Until I Die
by Ilionej
Summary: It all began for Hermione on the evening of Hallowe'en in 1993, with a very unusual encounter. And it should not be the last. Leading to her very own mission to reveal some truth that expands to be somewhat what she had hoped for, yet not what she had expected. And eventually, she will have to face that DNA cannot be changed, no matter how hard she tries...even up to 2029...
1. Info & Prologue - Light Blue Towels

_Until I Die_

 _by Ilionej  
_

You only see what your eyes want to see..How can life be what you want it to be..

 _Madonna, Frozen (Ray of Light, 1998)_

* * *

Beware...this story might quite likely..ensnare your senses..

 _I do not own anything in connection with this story, except for my own wicked imagination and ability to connect provided facts, as well as, I can gladly say, 98% of all its text. All other credit goes to sources named within the story, Joanne Kathleen Rowling(Look! Your characters are allowed to swear here! :D) and those who dared managed to adapt her books for the Big Screen. Yes, you read right. This story is based on the novels, but certain inspiration comes from the movies. You would do good to inhale all of those..not only to understand my story better..also to prevent massive spoilers.._

 _Warning: THIS STORY CONTAINS NUMEROUS ASPECTS OF LIFE AND DEATH! **NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF** **16**! HAVING GROWN UP WITH HARRY'S FEARS AND SCARS LIKE ME DOES NOT MAKE ME RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR TEARS, ALLERGIC REACTIONS OR WORSE! DO NOT, I REPEAT, **DO NOT** COMMIT SUICIDE BEFORE, THROUGHOUT OR AFTER THE READING AND ESPECIALLY DO NOT HARM ANYONE OR ANYTHING ELSE EITHER! IT'S NOT WORTH IT!_

(Unlike my first story, this one was not written in my native language German and then translated into English by myself, but the other way round. I, let me say, needed a little different challenge this time and to my own surprise had managed to write down the entire story within a single year, although correcting it took just as long. You'll hopefully remember having read that information when reaching the end..)

 _Thank you, Joanne, for unveiling our mirror_

 _And thank you, Mama, for your patience,_

 _as well as Papa, for indirectly encouraging me to indeed get my stuff published in some way_

 _This story is dedicated to you three and everyone with a fairly good taste – and stomach to survive that taste.._

Enjoy and **please review**. :)

P.S.: If you come to believe this to be a [insert genre] story at certain points, you are wrong. At least partly.  
P.P.S.: No matter what you expect to find one line down, _read on!_

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– Prologue –

 **Light Blue Towels**

Time was close to slip through her fingers. Her outlines, barely mirroring in the tiny hourglass of the small, round, golden object in her trembling hand. Two months and she could already see herself heading for Professor McGonagall's office, throwing that piece right at the old Lady's face. _You know that you are asking quite a lot from yourself? Are you sure you can deal with this? Awful things have happened to wizards who meddled with time._ And how she knew now. Yet she hadn't been seen by anyone or been anywhere in a faintly wrong moment – she sighed. It was exactly that. She was exhausted and tired of it all, even though all those subjects were still too interesting for giving up on them. She wanted it. She wanted to do this so badly. And all things McGonagall had loaded upon herself for making this possible – there was no choice. _She_ had no choice. She just couldn't be so selfish and break her own word. But the stress – all the stress – she was only fourteen years of age! How could she have been so naïve to entrust herself with such madness?

A shaking hand in front of her eyes, the golden thing whirling around like it was bound to a mad Snitch. Actually her whole body was trembling in the cold rain. With an annoyed grunt she slipped the Time-Turner back beneath her soaked clothes. If she had only brought an umbrella with her – or something as simple as a cloak – or at least cast the Impervius Spell – but no, she had just walked and walked and walked, not caring about the emerging rain or the wind slowly getting heavier. Only when the wind had stopped blowing, she had come to halt, just to get out that tiny piece of manifested trouble, ponder and hide it again. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her body, maybe in hope to get warmer. But not even robbing her arms made her situation better. Worse, the more she did to warm herself, the colder she felt.

Half worried, half angry with herself that she might actually get sick from something as unimportant as the weather, she let her look travel around. She must have left the path a long time ago. There was nothing but trees around her, though she was certain that it was not the forbidden part of the woods around the school grounds. There was still too much rain falling through the empty branches. Here and there some brown leaves hung down limply from those claw-like forms, desperately clinging to the edge of life. Somehow she felt sympathy for the branches. They suffered from the cold autumn weather as much as she did, and momentarily she was glad that she didn't need to share their fate every day. Examining her surrounding again, she noticed she could see her own breath in front of her. Not enough, the raindrops turned into snowflakes, sailing down peacefully. Almost leisure, she raised an eyebrow. Had winter really just arrived? After all, it was the day before Hallowe'en. Still she found it a bit early for snow.

She liked snow, somehow, if it fitted her mood, but at the moment it was the coronation to her tired sadness. Fortunately, as if a gigantic bell rang somewhere in her mind, also that mind realised that the cold had nothing to do with the weather. At least not fully. Slightly panicking, her head flew around once more. How far – how far had she _actually_ walked away from the path?

Not many more seconds than it had taken her to build up that thought again, they needed to encircle her. Covered in torn black cloak like materials, slowly floating closer towards her, the five of them locked her immediately, into a prison-like shrinking cupola that had no space for welfare or joy and it felt as though it was not five Dementors, but all her teachers and even her parents capturing her with words of disgust pouring down on her. Trembling worse than before, she shrunk amidst them, her life being the least valuable thing on earth. She could hardly breathe, couldn't think properly, had forgotten where she had put her wand that was no use anyhow and she was close to vomit something she couldn't remember to have eaten. Her parents grinned maliciously, splitting, into a hundred monsters surrounding her, ready to push her down with a desire beyond her imagination of pleasure. Fully incapable of breathing due to that heavy knot in her throat that yet kept her insides from spilling out on their own and on the other hand unable to swallow it down, she feared to suffocate in a sea of mere anxiety.

And it had been her own fault. She had failed at sticking to a simple rule: staying on the secure paths. Staying on the safe grounds. The creature in front of her sped up, directly flying towards her head, and her arms suddenly ceased all the trembling to only launch themselves over the soundless scream of terror on her face so as to not let the hooded get into it. Everything went dark. A black mass, veil-like, fell from the sky, the Dementor drifting into a distance behind her ability to see. Relieved that she didn't need to witness impersonated death seizing her soul, she accepted the end.

But it didn't come. Confused, she stared over her arms, slowly getting to realise that it was not a Dementor that stood in front of her. The beast had backed away some feet, just as if it was shocked by the sudden interruption. She tried to figure out what it actually was that had made the Dementor falter: a large figure covered in a clean, black, hooded cloak materialised from the fog that had dropped down like ink into water before she had decided any act of hers to be useless. With a long black wand in the right hand and the back turned to her, the figure forced Hermione to step against one of the thick, high trees. Eventually she understood that this meant there was no Dementor behind her either. However, two of them now sped at her and the hooded. She could hear her own scream in distance, with the knot gone at last, before she was swallowed by blinding light – the following darkness, she only saw when she felt her lids shut.

Hours must have passed. Feeling totally squelched, she found herself sitting on the cold moss, leant against the very same tree. Slowly the view in front of her eyes cleared and she met quite familiar dark eyes staring into her own, worried but relieved at the same time. She had never seen these eyes so close. No – she had – once – but they had been really angry then. There was no anger now. No hate, no disgust, she figured, when her senses returned, and could hear rain hitting the fallen leaves. No rain fell on her and her still hooded saviour though. When she looked further up, she saw something like a mirror made of thin glass above their heads, covering them from the rain and reflecting her stare faintly. Startling, she then felt a hand on her left shoulder and one on the right side of her head, touching her hair only.

"Are you all right?", his deep, quiet voice had never sounded that soft.

"I – ", she gargled, "I'm okay, Professor."

"Are you sure?", she was finally back at her senses; at least enough to wonder when he had managed to develop something like honest care.

"Yes.", she aspirated. "I'm fine, Sir."

"Wait."

He had taken his hands off her to pull a small sack from the left front pocket of his black trousers, which he enlarged with his wand, opened the strings and pushed his left arm weirdly deep into it. Hermione heard something like the drawer of a cupboard being opened and closed again. With a frown of curiosity she saw his hand reappear, holding a small package. He pulled the strings, shrunk the purple embroidered black pouch and let it disappear in his pocket again.

"That will make you feel better.", he held a piece of badly wrapped dark chocolate towards her.

"Chocolate? Now that is a common medicine, is it? Not just a simple momentary cure discovered by Professor Lupin?"

"I see, your brain is back. Eat and your body might be as well. It is the theobromine in it; that which plays a fair part in making some people addicted to chocolate. Yes, one can become seriously addicted to that stuff. Take Professor Dumbledore, for example. I still wonder how he could stay healthy in his high age while having been addicted to sweets for almost his entire life. I do not want to know the tricks he did to his teeth, however. Eat. It is getting dark already and I am not really sure whether I can ask much of you. Flying would be rather counterproductive in your current state and you have walked quite a distance."

"Flying? You think I'd fall off the broom?", Hermione whispered, taking a bite. "That – that's – ", surprised, she looked down on the chocolate. "Spearmint filling!"

"Of course I flew all the way on a broom. Didn't you see me making it disappear into thin air so it wouldn't hinder me saving that foolish girl's buttocks?", he raised an eyebrow with familiar sarcasm. "And the openly displayed roads of a mind as yours, are easy to wander for nearly everyone with little skill. So yes, spearmint.", somehow his words made her feel small again. "Now don't pull such a face. Get up. With the Dementors around, the grounds are even less welcoming at nighttimes than they usually are for most people."

Slightly assisted by him, she managed to stand up. It took a while until her legs did what she wanted. When she could lastly walk somewhat straight, something even more peculiar than the overall situation already was, made her stumble once again. He had removed the shield above their heads as it had stopped raining and thrown half of his wide cloak around her.

They hadn't spoken a word after they had left the place where Hermione had been attacked. Going all the way back she began to grasp how far she had in fact gotten off the path and away from the safe area of the school grounds and when they finally reached said path, it was already naturally dark. Not stark dark, but dark enough she had problems to see properly. She wondered how he could see where he was stepping, but then she remembered that he was used to watch the corridors at nights. His eyes were trained to see in the dark.

Thick clouds hung above them, causing the darkness to appear more frightening. She was actually grateful that they shared his cloak, now that it was getting colder due to the night rising from the hills in the east. Her clothes were still wet and while his arm laid around her left shoulder had confused her at first, she was now welcoming the bit of warmth.

The castle came in sight. Dark silhouettes against a deep grey sky. No windows could be seen, apart from those of the Great Hall, which was lightened brightly. Each and everyone was at dinner. Everyone except her and the teacher all people in the warm hall disliked most. At least that was what she knew. Maybe Dumbledore liked him a little more than the others, but what did she know about that man Dumbledore anyway? She startled another time.

"I know I might, as said, ask too much of you. After all you are fourteen years old and therefore haven't even only slightly experienced what it feels like to Apparate."

"I've travelled with Floo powder. I was told it feels very similar.", he stopped walking, forcing her to do the same if she wasn't to tear herself from his grip.

"All right. How many times have you done that?", they looked at each other.

"A couple of times?"

"Very well. Just be aware that the first time will be a bit more tense than Floo powder."

"But Sir – no one can Apparate within, into or out of the castle grounds – "

"Guess, I did read that book as well. I was not talking about Apparition, but flight.", he frowned. "You really _are_ young.", he added subdued, looking at the castle again.

"Oh.", she didn't seem to have heard the addition. "You can – "

"Well, it has been a while since I took someone with me when flying and that person was excellent at Apparating. Used to do it silently. Not many people can do it without even a little noise. But from all you are capable of already, I sense you are as gifted as this person had been at your age. From this I can gladly say, or rather hope, that you might be – as – brilliant in your future."

"Professor? What are you – ", she got curious.

"If you excuse me,"

"Sir?"

He turned to her, flinging his second arm around her back, making her hands grab his shoulders unintentionally. With a short shriek pressed from her lungs, she noticed her feet losing ground, her whole body feeling as if being liquefied.

Rushing in a fog-like greyish black mass of whirls, the trees moved past beneath them faster than Harry when playing Quidditch. There was the long roofed bridge, a short glimpse on one of the yards and they were already moving straight upwards. She didn't get to see the window of the third-year-girls' dormitory opening before she already found herself standing next to Lavender Brown's empty bed, still in his arms, panting heavily, shaking more than in the forest, eyes widely opened with both shock and surprise.

"If you sense the need to vomit, go for it.", he woke her from her bewilderedness. "Just – don't chose me as your target.", she swallowed heavily and looked him straight in the eyes, as properly as it was possible.

The room was even darker than the forest and completely disappeared into black when she gazed at his pale face, framed by the hood and tousled black hair. His dark eyes stared back, surrounded with black lashes and topped by thick but not messy male brows. Sure that she could stand on her own, he let go, pulling his cloak off her when moving away. Immediately the cold of the night took in the place of the fabric and she noticed that her lips started to tremble as well. She watched him walking directly towards her trunk.

"Undress.", he said curtly.

"What?", it was rather a squeak than a question.

"I said, undress.", he repeated emotionless. "If you stay in those wet clothes, you will get a terrible cold."

Snorting, she did as ordered, glad that he had turned away from her. She had already stripped down to her underwear when he turned around, two of her freshly washed towels on one arm. With a flick of his free hand, two empty chairs moved next to the round oven in the middle of the room, facing one another. Then he threw the smaller towel in Hermione's direction, which she could just catch it.

"For your hair.", he said monotonous and closed the window with another wave of his hand, watching her wrapping her hair with the towel and putting her arms around her upper body again. "And the rest?", he sighed.

"Rest?", she saw him rolling his eyes

"And I thought you were the most intelligent girl currently attending Hogwarts. If you don't get off your wet underwear as well, you will still get sick.", he snorted and walked back to her, leaving a little less than a yard between them. "You are _not_ the first girl I would see naked, as strange as this might appear to you.", he continued with a rather bored expression, his head slightly tilted to the left, but she just stared up at him, not sure what to think about the whole embarrassing situation. "Miss Granger,", he hissed quietly, pushing back his hood with his free hand at last, turning his hair into a total mess, "I am your teacher! Do you really think, I am _that_ perverted?"

Hermione swallowed once more and took off the last two pieces of clothing, noticing with relief that he looked away now as well. There was not even time for her to get angry. Once all of her clothes laid on the floor, he wrapped her in the big towel and gently pushed her down on one of the chairs. A last wave of his hand and cracking fire in the oven cast the dark room in a warm orange. He finally took off his cloak and hung it around the other chair, facing one of the windows. Now unveiled, she could examine the clothes he wore beneath. It was one of his usual black robes. Knee length, from the hip down opened in front and sewn pleated at the back, closed with many – clasps – on his chest. Most of his robes had buttons, but this one had two rows of wound silver clasps, one being decoration. As always, the sleeves reached his knuckles, leaving a short stripe of his white shirt to stick out. The same white rim could be seen on his neck, covered by the high, tight collar of the robe.

He picked up her clothes and hung them onto the bar around the oven for drying them. Then he sat down in front of her, crossing his arms and legs, looking at the fire behind the iron. His elegant black shoes and seams of his black trousers had gotten a bit dirty while walking back from the forest. Other than that; and the completely disarranged thick hair; his appearance was as neat, as sleek as ever.

The warmth of the fire in the iron oven comforted her more with every minute they sat there in silence. He didn't take his eyes off the oven – and she – attempted to do the same. But as much as she tried, she couldn't resist looking at him. She had never seen him in thoughts like that. Face blank to the last minuscule muscle he stared at what she believed to be the dancing flames behind the slits in the metal. Finding him so calm and without any spark of despise thrown at her, felt good. Though somehow he also looked like a doll, a display dummy, still, lifeless – dead. A sudden urge to break the silence overcame her.

"Sir – ", he didn't even startle, just as though he had been expecting her to raise her voice at the very moment.

"They won't be here within the next hour. By that time you will be dry and asleep.", she frowned. "Are you hungry?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked you whether – ", Snape finally directed his face at her.

"No, Sir.", his expression didn't change, but she saw a hint of doubt in his eyes. "Really.", he nodded barely visible and turned his head back to the oven.

"Professor – why – "

"What by all means were you thinking?", it was neither a lecture, nor concern. "Walking out into the woods with Dementors all around the grounds?"

"I – don't know.", she decided not to try building up a fast and convincing lie like back then after Harry and Ron had knocked down the troll in the lavatory or when they had been caught finding Mrs Norris' petrified body, or – "I didn't even notice I was – "

"Apparently not.", he took a deep breath through his nose.

"Sir?"

"Yes?", she hesitated for a moment, swallowing.

"Thank you."

He didn't move his head, but his eyes rushed towards her, drilling into hers. Then they flicked down to some non-existing point in height of her shoulder. With a sigh, they closed and he nodded lightly.

"Sometimes we load too much upon ourselves.", he opened his eyes again, looking at the fireplace once more. "Don't think you need to prove anything. Professor McGonagall won't slice you and have you for dinner if you hand it back."

"You – know?", she aspirated. "Oh. Of course. You must have heard about my full timetable and considered that – "

"What did she tell you? Stories about the Ministry? About tons of letters and owls and agreements?"

"Sir?", Snape chuckled, a sparse smile on his lips – that self-satisfied one he always pulled when giving students the lesson of their life for mistakes normal people would take as too small as to be necessary to bother.

"Convincing, isn't she?", his smile was gone as fast as it had come.

"I don't understand – "

"Do you believe, the Minister would tolerate what you are doing? They have destroyed Time-Turners in a big manner. Such are dangerous. One of the most dangerous and most tempting objects ever created by wizards. Even more dangerous than that little stone Nicolas Flamel had made so long ago. But I am certain, you are aware of the facts. You did a great job for the past two months. Though if I may remind you, you will need to continue as concentrated until June, at least. If you ever dare to allow yourself a mistake like today again, I fear you will not come to survive until Christmas.", he snarled. "I cannot be there all the time to save your neck. It was mere coincidence that I walked across that yard and saw two of the Dementors flying towards the woods behind the bridge."

"I know. Sorry, Professor.", again, his head and eyes were on her.

"Don't be silly now!", he hissed. "You shouldn't apologise to me, but rather to yourself!"

Hermione just bit her lower lip and looked away into the barely lit room. However, she couldn't resist staring back at him when he pulled out that little pouch again, rummaging. With a snort he pulled his wand from his left sleeve, pointed it inside the pouch and a small flask with a glass stopper soared out, staying floating in front of him. A clatter and he closed the pouch, slightly amused by her interested face. After putting the pouch back into his pocket, he picked the flask and leaned over to her, holding it in front of her nose, above which their eyes met, and their noses would have been dangerously close, if it hadn't been for the flask.

"Four drops in a cup of water. That will do for a dreamless night of eight hours.", she nodded, understanding and attempted to take it. "If you are about to run out of it, just come to my office after dinner and knock – four times."

"Okay.", she nodded again and took the flask, whereby their hands barely touched and she shuddered slightly, even though his fingers were surprisingly warm.

Eyes empty, he raised and threw on his cloak, leaving her sitting on the chair. But she wouldn't let him go just like that.

"What will I tell the others?", she asked just to get one more moment for thinking, yet in vain.

"The truth.", he sighed, his back on her and his hand on the door handle. "You weren't hungry.", she nodded another time. "Remember – speak to no one. Neither about your little suicide trip – nor about what happened this evening. Not even to me. Four knocks and your face in my door _after I opened_ shall be enough of the words dropped on the matter.", he pushed down the handle. "Good night, Miss Granger."

"Goodnight, Professor.", he stepped out, being about to close the door behind him. "Professor?", he stopped. "Thank you for – everything."

Without turning back, he shut the door and actually left her sitting next to the oven, covered only in her light blue towels, holding a flask of potion. Several long minutes passed, only spent with staring at the door. Then she stood up quietly, put the flask on her bedside table and started drying her hair magically.

Dressed for bed, regretting for a second that she hadn't asked for food, she transformed a piece of parchment into a ceramic cup, filled it with water and dripped in four drops of the potion he had given her, which she stowed away in her trunk afterwards.

Before sitting down on the bed, she took her dried clothes from the bar and threw them carelessly into the trunk. Then, after turning off the fire with a wave of her wand, she sat at last down on the mattress, eyeing the cup for another long while. Thinking of his words, she took a deep breath and drank it all in one go. It didn't taste bad even. Sighing, she laid down and as soon as she had managed to cover herself with her blankets, she fell asleep, drifting off into a black nowhere.

Outside, in the darkness between the door and the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, a big ginger cat purred along with the brushes of a pale hand that glided over its thick fur. Once the hand was gone, the cat laid down and curled in, guarding the door until the first of Hermione's colleagues would come to go to bed as well.

~~#~~

The following weekend would be all she had hoped for. No homework, no essays, no research to do. But being her, she couldn't confess publicly that she enjoyed the thought. And with Ron greeting her right after that wonderful dreamless sleep with a sneaky face, she wished to go back up to her new miracle tonic.

"Where were you yesterday?", he chuckled.

"I wasn't hungry."

"Sure. Having no work left to do must make you really depressed. Why don't you help Harry and me with our stuff?"

"Literally meaning, I shall do all your homework, yes? No, thanks, Ronald.", she snorted and sat down right when Harry entered the scene, looking as depressed as Ron would have expected Hermione to be. "Oh no – we'll be going to Hogsmeade today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good morning.", Harry mumbled, trying to sound normal.

"Don't look so sad. We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes.", said Hermione, being desperately sorry for him and catching her brain creating the taste of dark chocolate filled with spearmint cream in her mouth – by that moment she knew that it wouldn't be easy to forget the events of the previous evening.

Before leaving the hall with her friends, she; out of curiosity; tried to catch a glimpse of the staff table without being noticed. Though to her shock, her eyes met with Snape's and she turned at once, following the others outside. Had he been watching her? Or had it been – _mere coincidence_ again?

However, she wouldn't find out. Having guessed it then already, but for good reasons not really having hoped for it, the rest of the school year would keep her too busy and the only moments that could make her think properly about the evening in question, were those when she got to see him standing in the half opened door of his office, silent and callous, only handing another serving to her, taking back the empty flask before closing the door.

Just in those rare moments she would thoroughly think back and wonder which side of that mysterious man she had met with that night before Hallowe'en in nineteen ninety-three.

~~#~~

Clothes and hair soaking from sweat, panting like a wild ox and his heart throbbing in his throat, he spied around the corner, only five minutes after having left the house. No one to be seen. Everything was quiet, apart from the wind's exhausted sigh that attempted to sweep away the sweltering heat of the day. All workers were slogging behind the walls of the many buildings on the other side of the high wire mesh fence. Still as quick as a fly, he hurried across the sandy soil of the fringe around the factory area and stopped with the pale right hand against the netted iron, eyes like marbles wandering up to the top, where a helical barbed wire searched its way along the border, snakelike and ominous, electrified wires woven in, for keeping animals and nosy kids off. He could feel it prickle.

Yet not enough to stop him. Not this time. He had tried the gates too often. In the distance, he could see the guards and the least thing he wanted to do was persuade them again – or run all the way through the premises, his eyes hurting from the dust. No, this time he would be taking –

Biting down his doubt, he hooked his fingers and bare toes onto the wire and climbed. Taut enough to resist his little weight, the fence didn't give the faintest rattling as he mounted it, ignoring the tickling on his skin. At last he reached the spiral on top. Only fearing his wide clothes might get caught, he gave it another checking glance, then his thin fingers wrapped themselves around spike-free parts of the wound wire, which slightly gave in, however, to his advantage. He pulled himself up, through between the gap he had pressed open, and the wire downright catapulted him onto the other side, where he rolled himself off in the air already and landed gently on the ground.

Unfortunately, the wire clattered back in place and as soon as they perceived the noise, two dogs in the near hut answered with ear-splitting barking and the rusty iron door was thrust open, revealing the big Doberman Pinschers, pulling on thick rattling chains that were held on broad leather rims, each in the knobby hands of a no less grim, heavy weighted bold man with a flourishing brown moustache. His muscular arms were covered in tattooed skulls and other dark motives, up to the straps of his dirty wife beater and it was not clear whether it had been his own dogs that had torn his bagging jeans. Baring his yellow teeth alike, he looked at whom his dogs were longing for digging theirs in. But unimpressed, also by the man's angry growling, he sidestepped, sped towards a barrel and pulled himself up onto the corrugated iron roof of the hut, before the man could finish his thronging sentence.

" _Wha' the hell ya think ya're doin' in – Jesus Chris' – ge'cha_ _bums back down 'ere!_ "

"Only as lon' as ye keep yer cuties at bay.", snarled the boy, his own teeth well visible too. "Make 'em shu' up, or I will."

"Ya?", chuckled the man. "Firs' see how ya ge' back down 'ere. Then we le' the dogs decide."

"Look, I dun' wan' attention – "

"Neither do I.", growled the guard. "I'll tell yar Dad ya're sneakin' 'round in 'ere,"

"Well, I'd spare ye tha work an' tell 'im meself. I'm 'eadin' fer 'im,"

"Jus' a lil' lippy for a ten-year ol', are we? Yeah, with me, and ya both off the area in the fas'-lane.", he laughed maliciously.

"We'll see who laughs las'."

The boy's breath became steadier when his eyes focused on the still barking dog at his left. It took its owner several seconds to realise the dog had calmed down, eyes connected with the boy's. Then the dog rushed around and went for the other, knocking it and the man almost to the ground.

"Wha' the – ", gasped the bold, irate but confused by the twist, though only seconds and a commanding call of the boy later, the dogs stopped fighting and sat down calmly on the sandy ground as if nothing had ever happened between them, but they were bleeding where they had bitten one another.

"An' now, if ye dun' wan' me ter do tha' wit' ye,", the boy said calm, gaining the man's attention and eye contact again, "Ye grab yer dogs, lead 'em back in an' continue listenin' ter yer radio. If anyone asks, tha heat's made tha dogs freak ou', tha's all. An' I'm eigh'."

A purely malevolent but satisfied smirk wandered across the boy's lips as the man picked up the leather belts and led the dogs back in by their chains, calm and obeying. When the door fell shut, exhaustion won, making the boy collapse on the roof, his sweat covered pale face losing its blush behind the salty water glistening in the summer sun. Along with wiping off his sweat, he robbed a pulsating vein at his temple and his slightly aching head. Drained but happy with himself, he sat back up and gazed along the cable that connected the hut to a transformer. More electricity. He panted out his frustration. But he had wanted it that way, now he had to do it that way.

Some minutes passed in which he slightly cooled down, even though the wide jacket over the too big shirt refused to let in any cooling gust of a breeze. Composed enough, he stood up and cautiously climbed onto the swaying and bending cable, waiting for it to come to rest, with his toes hooked around and his hands on his hips. Ready for what laid ahead, he walked on as if he was balancing on a mere wooden board on solid ground. He had trained it several times before, on rather straight cables. Due to having to get up higher onto the transformer, he gained speed and the last yards he passed running and climbing at once, safely reaching the metal frame that stood in its own secured area on the premise.

His further way was easier: down another cable and over some high factory roofs, up and down, up the slopes and a jump down after each. Three buildings onwards, he finally reached the high brick chimney. The building around was locked, that much he knew, and too many people were working in there for entering uncaught. To his fortune, there was no smoke emerging from the chimney. So he jumped over and climbed the iron bars of the maintenance ladder, higher and higher, until he reached the square vent and peeked down inside. Very far below, he could see light. His chance. He swung himself over and fell, too small to touch the fuliginous bricks around him and his breath held for not inhaling too many of the particles.

At the bottom, he slowed down like he had before, landing almost gentle on the grid. Though the scarce light and soot made it almost impossible for him to see, someone must have noticed his arrival. To his left, an inner maintenance door was being opened and in peered a most familiar face, first confused and on the realisation, slightly angry.

"Ey, Dad!", beamed the boy, but his father's expression was far from amused.

"Screw i'! Wha'cha think you're doin', eh? I jus' wanne' ta fire u' tha engine again! Lucky bastar'!"

"Ye fergo' yer meal,", huffed the boy and retrieved two strangely intact looking packages of brown paper from the inner pockets of his jacket.

"As if I din' know. 'S tha' all?"

"An a letter came fer ye.", his son pulled out the envelope as well. "Though' ye wanted ter read it before ye're too drunk after shif'."

"You per'ly lil' smar'-aleck! See tha'cha ge' ou' o' 'ere! Before you ge' me sack', you freak!"

"Yes, Sir.", grumbled the boy, slipped out of the chimney past his upset father and left the narrow boiler room through another ventilation shaft. "An' it's `thank ye´. When I go' children, I'd thank 'em fer bringin' me me fergotten lunch. No matter 'ow shor' an' easy or far an' complicated 'eir way was."

While he marched through the dark corridors and up many stairs, the definite resolution from his childhood resounded in his head with his own, much younger voice and the hatred flooded his body, for his father and even himself, not much fading when he reached the doors before his destination.

A dead cold laid over the sombre room, not as dead as the grim hills around the grounds, yet cold enough to make even a warmly dressed person shiver. Thick drops dashed against the high old windows, but an enchantment quietened the noise to grant better recovery. Not perceivable from the room, occasionally rain turned into snow where they crossed the down-pouring water.

Long hooded cloaks, slimy hands, the rest far beyond imagination. Appearing much like them, a shadow entered silent through the door. No noise as the figure glided over the floor, towards a white bed. A skeleton white hand reached out from the wide dark sleeve, taking a piece of wood that laid on the bedside table. The fingers lightly wrapped the cracked stick, a thumb trailing over the fibres. Then it was put back into place and the hand moved on, wiping a bundle of dark hair from a scar. Right in that moment, a lightning bolt shot over the sky and lightened the scene. But the hair slid down without waking the boy.

Gliding like the water over the glass, a wide mass of fabric slipped off dark shoulders and was carefully hung over a chair. Leaving shoes beside the bed, the figure climbed under the blanket, still not making the boy stir. He was so vast asleep he didn't even notice his head being lifted and an arm being laid around him. A second. Only when a pair of lips softly met with his forehead next to the scar, he would give a sniff and a quiet moan when it was replaced by another forehead. The touch too gentle, he slept on, only drifting into a far more pleasant dream.

Unseen in the dark, a smile, so warm and happy, every Dementor would flee from it..

~~١~٨~٥~~


	2. Chapter 1 - Encounters

– Chapter 1 –

 **Encounters**

In golden shine, hundreds of painted heads whispered their usual chats, ignored by those who passed by. Only here and there a comment was given by a student, who would as mostly find themselves confronted with anger about `eavesdropping´.

One after another, the students vanished into different directions. The Fat Lady studied her fingernails, not interested in looking down over the banister. The feast was long over, and still she hung openly. Like every year, she had given up closing as long as students with red and golden ties would appear downstairs. She blew an annoyed snort when she saw the next three from the corner of her eye. Way too slow for her liking, they climbed up. Then, to increase her discomfort, Hermione Granger froze in the middle of the last staircase landing up to the Gryffindor common room, making Ron and Harry stop with bewildered looks at her.

"What's wrong?", Ron asked.

"I – ", she aspirated, ignoring Seamus and Lee who nearly fell upstairs, wondering in mid-walk why she had stopped, "Forgot – "

"What did you forget?"

"I need to go back to the Great Hall.", she gasped quickly.

"What did you – "

"My brush.", she blushed.

"Why did you have your brush down there with you?", Harry frowned. "And how could you have forgotten it? I haven't seen you taking it out. Are you sure it's not in your bag?", to please him, she peered inside.

"No. I – goodnight, you two."

"Er – yes.", Ron chuckled, staring after her as she ran back down. "Girls.", he shook his head and they took the last stairs to the portrait which finally closed, but not without an exaggeratingly relieved sigh.

Getting out of sight in the corridor to a shortcut, she waited some seconds, listening attentively. They were still talking. She took a glance up the stairs whether Harry and Ron were gone and stepped out. A corridor down, the voices were getting louder. Hadn't he just brought his students to the ship? And what was he –

"What do you want from me, Igor.", his voice was definite, but obviously annoyed.

"We are friends!"

"Friends.", a chuckle. "So that is what you think."

Hermione bent over the banister and saw them entering the moving stairs. In almost the same moment, from above, a group of Beauxbatons girls came out of another corridor, desperately looking around.

"Severus – don't ignore me – "

"If I ignored you, would I then reply to your muttering?", Snape grunted when they went further up. "You should have thought about that before you gave a damn about our relation in that courtroom. You should have thought about it years ago. _Years_ , Igor. Eleven years and nine moths, to be precise. And now you come to me, telling me how terribly sorry you are. Almost. Twelve. Years."

"But you must understand – they – they – "

" _What!_ ", he rushed around, his hair and cloak fluttering; Hermione could tell even from above that his expression was as menacing as it had never been before. "Don't tell me what they would have done, Igor! _Because, I, know!_ ", he hissed.

"Then you understand, do you?"

"No, I don't! I would have rather sacrificed myself!", somehow that sounded familiar to her.

"Talk is cheap. You weren't in there."

"I _was_ in there! And I would have _died_ before I'd betrayed you! I'd rather let the Dementors destroy me! If it interests you, I defended you in my trial until I left the room as a free man. You would have more probably seen _me_ dead instead of _yourself_. Don't tell me _now_ , that you started caring for me again. Now, that an international event _forced_ you to come here.", he turned and stomped on.

"You didn't come either. You knew where I was."

"Did you even listen to a single word I just said?"

In the meantime, the girls upstairs had also developed a fierce tone in their French negotiation, pointing and waving and their brandishing resembled much the try to shoo away a swarm of insects. Snape stopped once more when Karkaroff pleaded in a language Hermione didn't understand, but she believed it must be something like Bulgarian. It sounded a little different to how he had spoken to Krum though. Maybe a different dialect. To her surprise, Snape answered in the same language, apparently fluent. Though he kept walking, Karkaroff on his heels. Discussing in that language, they approached the spot where Hermione stood. Hastily she jumped back into the corridor to the Ravenclaw tower and behind a stone statue. Relieved, she heard them walk past, while footsteps came from above as well. Then Snape changed his language again, astonishing her even more.

"Bonsoir, Mesdames. Puis-je vous aider?", she would have never thought that he knew more than English and probably some Latin terms that were necessary for Potion Making, but that there were actually two foreign tongues he spoke fluently, his pronunciation so well he could be taken for a native speaker –

"Ah – vous parlez Français, Monsieur?"

"Bel et bien."

"Épatant! Alors, – "

What the girl said then, was too fast and too complicated for Hermione's little knowledge of French, but it sounded like she asked for the way to the Ravenclaw tower, only a bit too elaborate. She heard him giving them the information and adding some more sentences she didn't understand. Then the girls already thanked him, wished the two Professors a good night and came walking past Hermione's hiding place without noticing her either. There was a long silence out on the stairs. No footsteps, no words. The girls were out of earshot.

Hesitantly, Hermione tiptoed from behind the statue and peeked into the gigantic tower, up the torch-lit stairs. Karkaroff, in their position as tall as Snape, stood one step below – holding the other man. Snape had his arms wrapped around Karkaroff's back likewise. His brows were narrowed with visible sadness, but his eyes were shut. Some bundles of his greasy hair slid over Karkaroff's left shoulder when he buried his face in it, leaving only his pale forehead to be seen. Hermione heard a muffled sound she hadn't expected at all: sobbing.

Completely stunned, she quietly paced back to the statue and leaned against the wall of the alcove behind, listening to Snape crying into his friend's shoulder. No, she had not the slightest clue who that man who once saved her life really was and meeting with such a scene was the last she would have been prepared for. She knew now, that she wasn't to believe anything he showed or said in public.

After what seemed like hours of standing in the dark alcove, blank eyes fixating the back of the statue with rotating thoughts, she heard them move. There was some sniffing and Karkaroff speaking with his apparently unavoidable accent, which was much more elongated than that of most of his students, she had come to notice in that little time, yet still closer to proper English than theirs. Though if she was honest, it was just an accent everyone would expect an exaggeratingly speaking man from Russia or somewhere else in the Eastern Bloc to sound like.

"I will not ask you to forgive me, Severus. I know my mistakes and cannot forgive myself either."

"Don't be silly.", Snape aspirated softly, but his voice was shaking in the depth. "I forgave you ages ago."

"B-but – "

"Go back to your ship.", he was calm again, alarmingly calm.

"Severus – "

"Go, before I forget that there used to be something that could compensate any of your selfish errors. Go, before I forget that I had principles on whom to kill and whom to spare.", Hermione's heart leapt with shock.

"Severus – "

"Should you wish that I actually forgive you, then _never_ talk to me about it again."

"But – "

"If you want me to draw a line under it, you should as well. I don't care whether you regret it or not. I can forgive you, though just as long as you don't come whining at me about how bitterly sorry you are. That is no use for either of us. So go, before I lose my dignity."

Hasty, slightly panicking footsteps. Karkaroff was gone.

~~#~~

"They are all actually quite handsome.", Parvati giggled, like she did many times these days. "Don't you think?"

"Maybe.", Hermione sighed.

"Oh drop it, Parvati.", Ginny murmured as they stopped at the end of the corridor before it would cross the arches around the Transfiguration Courtyard. "So Burbage actually bought two of those badges?"

"Yes.", Hermione now beamed.

"Two. What's she gonna do with the second?"

"I have no idea, but it means she really supports the cause."

"If you say so,"

It was a Saturday morning in November, after their breakfast and the castle was so empty it could have been somewhen in the holidays already. Everyone was still at the hall, eating – and trying to get to know the foreigners better. A place Hermione actually craved for Parvati having stayed there. But the three girls had finished earlier and had therefore decided to take a little walk around. Yet all Parvati could speak of through her woollen Gryffindor scarf, was the Durmstrang boys.

"But you can't deny, that Krum's the best looking."

"Just being curious – are you really losing your faculties so much that you don't recall I said – ", Ginny hissed but broke off. "You hear that?"

"What?"

"That's – "

They peered around the corner. A few yards down the left, two men were facing one another, clearly arguing. Hermione had believed they had settled it with that embrace, but it seemed, there was much more between them to be solved.

"I see no sense in doing this.", Snape snarled. "How can you let yourself be so owned by a dream? I also have a dream that constantly keeps coming back, but that doesn't mean I expect that girl standing in front of me any moment."

"I am not owned, Severus. Just – warned. Don't you see it? You must have noticed – "

" _Of_ _course_ I have notice. I'd be totally dumb, wouldn't I?", Snape said stiffly. "Or a pig.", he added grumbling.

"Then – "

"Then what."

"Tell him!"

"I won't tell anyone a _thing_ about this."

"Why not?", Karkaroff moaned. " _He_ must get to know it, don't you think?"

"No, I don't."

"But – "

"Igor. Whatever this is, it is not as easy as you might think. Obviously, the years have made you naïve. Had ourselves some way too cold winters, had we?"

"I am not naïve, Severus. I am realistic!", Karkaroff hissed. "We cannot just let this – _person_ – run around here!"

"Oh, we can.", he snapped. "There is something bigger to it than what you apparently think. And unless we know what exactly it is, we are not to intervene."

"You are aware though, that horrible things could happen until you consider the moment to be right?"

"Rather like you, I have some control over certain situations."

"Meaning?", spat Karkaroff.

"I learned to watch from the shadows. It is a lot more useful than stomping into a party, roaring like a Giant.", they just stared at each other. "Assumed, of course, it is not another Giant's party."

Silence. Then, Karkaroff lowered his head and chuckled. Snape just dropped his shoulders and eyeballed him with prodigious boredom.

"Look.", he said, placing his hand on the other man's cheek. "I can understand your concern, but whoever we are dealing here with, I assure you I can take care of the case. You know yourself that you're not at your best anymore.", Karkaroff meant to protest. " _Don't_ deny. I know it. I can see it in your eyes and it hurts me to recognise how much you have lost of your former resilience. But I cannot change it. I do not want to change it. That is life, I suppose. I will not tell you to go on. I will not force you to stick with me to the end. Yes, it has been your choice, but I won't blame you if you give up on your own plan. I can walk this path on. It is on me whether I load it upon myself, as much as it is on you to do. Just mind that I don't wish you to die trying to suppress exhaustion."

He wiped back some of Karkaroff's hair that had visibly grown longer over the last weeks and laid this hand on the other cheek as well, looking deeply into his friend's eyes. Then he placed a single kiss on his forehead, not having to raise to his toes due to Karkaroff's slightly collapsed figure. After a mutual moment in pondering silence, Snape pressed his right indexfinger onto the tip of the other's sharp nose, then let it slide off, whereupon he playfully plucked his lower lip. While his expression became some sort of dazing emptiness, yet with a flicker of expectation, Karkaroff was merely confused.

"Why – what – was that supposed to achieve?"

"You don't know?", he breathed back, receiving only raised eyebrows. "You – really – ", again he took a pause to think, this time clearly whether he should go further into it – and he did, very quiet and hard for the girls to catch. "There used to be days when you woke me early with your snoring. I figured that was one way to stop it. In addition, it made you wake up too. With such an extremely beautiful, drowsy smile, it felt like – in those moments – it felt like all the bad in the world was gone. It made me forget everything, made my little world whole. Such small moments, and yet they had so much power to them, I believed, if not you could drive evil away with that, what could."

"I guess – ", although Karkaroff's lips curled, a flattered smile drifted onto them. "Well, maybe you should have told me that earlier. Then we could have smacked something like this into Bellatrix's face. Just for the sake of making her go insane.", his left hand still where it was before, he let his head sink onto the fur collar on the other side with a depleted huff. "I mean, if more insanity is even possible."

"Don't get me wrong, but it was you who made me realise how little I knew about the possible faces of insanity.", Snape mumbled into the fur a little louder, the other's fingers hooking onto his waistband at his sides, through his robe.

"And that from someone who goes cliff diving when you cannot even see the sea through the fog."

"I knew where it was, and I knew the times of the tides. And besides, do I have to remind you, that it was you who had the brilliant idea to plant us – "

"Да, да, да. And there we are, back again where we were. Where one idiot does not want the other to stop him from doing nothing."

"I just don't want you to jump onto what you don't know could be a Flobberworm or a Manticore, simply because you are afraid a Lethifold would get you otherwise, while nobody knows in which part of the swamp that thing actually creeps."

"You know, I hate it when you speak around matters in associations."

"And you know I only do it when you won't get it otherwise. I care too much for you, Gorij.", he said softly, raising, with the right palm back on the other's cheek as well. "Too much as to be able to let you ruin your life with fear. You can go anywhere you like to, any time. Just tell me and I will arrange things for you. No one will go looking.", his hands glided down to Karkaroff's shoulders and both sighed.

"You – you haven't called me like that for a long time – ", Karkaroff gargled and retrieved his fingers along with a desperate attempt to flatten the black fabric he had crinkled, which only resulted in a clumsy and awkward way of stroking blindly.

"Guess,", Snape replied quietly once again, almost indifferent, "It's been some time since you managed to get yourself busted up."

"Don't remind – "

"Sorry. Seems, your dangerously sweet resentfulness casts some light on me."

"What?", the other gasped. "Uh – good or bad?"

"I – don't know?", Hermione somehow hoped that the sudden saucy tone with which he said that and the single brushing he gave Karkaroff's silver hair was solely played, but it was enough to make the other girls' eyes pop out – more than they had on previous moves – and hers too, she realised.

"That is not – what are you – ", Karkaroff muttered as his face was pulled closer by a bundle of hair that was firmly wrapped around Snape's left index finger now.

"Come.", he said soft and calm again.

"Huh?"

"I think, I know something that might bring you on different thoughts."

"Which would be?"

"You will see.", he let go of the hair, turned on his right foot to go and froze for a moment. "Come.", a hesitant smile at his friend slipped over his lips when he moved his left arm around Karkaroff's back and pulled him with him.

Completely beside themselves, the three girls gazed after them, heavily flushed. Ginny and Parvati were confused. Hermione however felt guilty. She should have walked straight out with her friends and to the right, instead of spying on the men from the corner. It would have been much better, she understood. But she hadn't and that made her angry with herself.

"What was _that?_ ", Parvati aspirated when the two were out of sight.

"Something we obviously weren't meant to see – ", moaned Ginny.

"Definitely. But – he didn't – he didn't shout at us, did he? Doesn't he normally – "

"Maybe he really cares for him, as he said. Then it would only be logical that he didn't want him to know they've been overheard.", Hermione considered. "Come on. Let's go.", she walked into the direction she had just blamed herself for not having taken. "Just one thing,", she added, the two following her. "We should forget what we've seen and heard."

"Okay.", Ginny said, though Parvati just gazed at them, some image of a hungry beast flicking up behind her eyes.

"This wasn't supposed to have happened, so, we aren't supposed to act like it has."

"Oh.", Parvati accepted woefully. "Alright."

~~#~~

Deserted, the corridor laid there. Empty darkness, only lit by faint moonlight shining through the windows. Snowflakes drifted in through between the arches, carried by a cold breeze. Gazing into the snowy yard, Igor Karkaroff pulled his winter cloak of white fur close. Shortly before him to his left, Severus Snape leaned against a pillar, eyeing the other man in thoughts.

"It was mere luck, the boy survived.", Karkaroff said. "I will not say he has no talent at flying, because he undoubtedly has, but it was luck the Dragon didn't kill him."

"You are such a turn off.", Snape whispered, reached out and ran his fingers up under Karkaroff's wide sleeves on his left forearm.

"Huh?"

"It is such a beautiful night.", he grabbed the arm a little firm and pulled Karkaroff closer. "Do you really want to spoil it by talking about Harry Potter?"

"Oh. I am sorry. I forgot – "

"There are so many better things we can do."

"For example?", Karkaroff threw a lusty smirk.

"I see, you understood."

Snape's left hand wandered up Karkaroff's fur-covered chest, opening the golden clasps on its way and drifting beneath it when arriving at his collar. A stroke down and one back up, gliding further to his neck and cheek. There he brushed some of the silvery waves behind his ear, resting the thumb on the cheek and the other fingers in his hair. Karkaroff leaned forward against him and moved his right hand up Snape's back, closing the little space between them as their lips met. With every move of them and their tongues, their passionate kissing intensified. Karkaroff's left hand, the arm still held tight, was placed on Snape's hip, under his robe, from where it slid down, turning as it approached a specific area. Some buttons were opened and the hand searched its way inside.

"Certainly, your teenage fantasies are very captivating to you, Miss Granger.", his bored low voice close to her made her head zoom from the underwater window and at him with a shriek. "But they do not excuse neglect of your antidote, which has, if you allow me to note, meanwhile become useless."

She shortly glanced into her bubbling cauldron, the liquid as red as her face, and shrunk behind it. Biting her lower lip, she gazed back up to him, her eyes narrowed with embarrassment.

"Five points from Gryffindor for daydreaming in my class.", he gave the cauldron an emptying flick of his wand. "Five more for wasting ingredients and another five for the look you had on your face while you successfully combined both.", he hissed. "An extraordinary achievement, Miss Granger. For once you have managed to get as low marks for something as Potter is used to, even considered that _his_ antidote is already as poisonous as what it should stop.", another flick, accompanied by Harry's murmuring. "Five additional points off for inability to accept failure, Potter. Though I don't see any reason for you to protest. After all, you have too many things to worry about now than winning the House Cup?", he sneered. "But don't think there is any more time to dwell in your woe. None of you.", he pushed himself off from the table he had leaned onto and addressed the whole class now, right when the bell rang in the distance. "Christmas starts when I say it does.", Ron gave a snort.

"Ow!", he had received a nice little smack on the head with his own Potions book.

"Five more off, Weasley. Granger, be glad that I prefer to ignore the content of your – inner madness.", Snape huffed and dropped the script. "And Slytherins, I expect each and every one of you to gather in your common room at nine o'clock. You got that bit of information, or do I need to _burn it into your foreheads_?"

"That was totally unfair!", Ron moaned, robbing his head while they headed off to an abandoned classroom McGonagall had asked them to meet at, the day before.

"Since when has he ever been fair.", grumbled Harry. "And what the heck were you thinking of?", he said to Hermione.

"You don't want to know.", she gargled, her eyes straight forward into the hall they had reached.

"What's that here?", Ron chuckled.

The room was already crammed with Gryffindors, all from the fourth year up. They sat or stood at the walls, boys on the one, girls on the other side. The strange separation confused the trio. Right to the door was a crooked table, carrying a gramophone with a horn so gigantic it was a miracle the instrument didn't break the table. But that was the greatness of magic. It didn't bother the laws of physics at all. Mostly. Next to the table stood Filch, Mrs Norris to his feet. Understanding that they had to separate as well, they and the fourth-years who had caught up, joined their housemates. Shortly after, McGonagall entered, closed the big door and asked them for silence so she could shock half of the students with the news.

* * *

"I'll kill her.", Ron huffed angrily, two hours later. "I'll so kill her."

"Oh come on. You can't deny, you enjoyed it.", Fred grinned.

"Yeah. It was like magic!", George sang. "You and McGonagall would make a truly lovely couple!"

"Shut up, you morons. She can't. She just can't force us to dance, can she?"

"Oh I think, she can.", Hermione smirked. "And dancing is not that bad, actually."

" _Not that bad?_ I'd rather be back in Potions, and if he buries me under a hundred books pile! I'd even encourage that! It'd mean I wouldn't have to go dancing!", he moaned. "Blimey. D'you reckon, Snape does that too?"

"Does what?", Harry frowned.

"Teaching the Slytherins how to dance?"

They all burst into laughter, only Hermione couldn't fully join in. Had he actually seen what she had been imagining? If yes, she was definitely lucky that she escaped with a bad mark and loss of points.

"I mean, remember what he said at the end of the lesson?"

"What did he say?", George asked.

"Ordered them to the common room. Told them to be there in the evening."

"Really?", Fred asked. "Gotta give it a try then, Harry, don't you?"

"Honestly,", Harry smirked, "As tempting as it may sound, I really don't want to watch that. Even if Ron should be right about why he summoned them. Not even for the satisfaction of seeing Malfoy making a complete fool of himself."

"You think there's a possible enhancement of his usual behaviour?"

~~#~~

She took a checking glance over the banister. No one looked up to her. Hoping the room would be empty, she snuck up to the fourth-year-boys' dormitory, finding it dark. Her wand given a flick, the bluish light shone over the four-posters and – a lot of mess. Snorting, her eyes drifted across the beds and eventually found Harry's trunk next to one of those messes. Carefully, she walked towards it, opened it and – there it was. A little more hesitant, she took it and closed the trunk again. Then she put out the magic light and threw the Invisibility Cloak over. Concealed completely, she tiptoed out and down the stairs into the crowded common room.

To her fortune, it wasn't that filled with people she couldn't get past, and they all were busy enough to not see her climbing out through the portrait hole. For avoiding loud noises, she took off her shoes and put them into her big shoulder bag which she had emptied before. Even though she wore wool socks, she had to admit that the marble stairs were a bit cold. But she had a mission. Cold stones were the last matter to worry about.

Fifteen minutes later she arrived at a certain wall in the Dungeons. Due to having had to take a little detour because Peeves had blocked a corridor with old cupboards, leaving Filch and Moody with the task to remove them, five minutes too late. It was five past nine and the corridors were deserted. Stomping angrily on the floor, she gritted her teeth. Why did those Slytherins have to be punctual? But there was always the hope that someone would get late. Almost an hour later, she was close to give up that ridiculous hope.

Though suddenly, as if someone had finally received her wish, she wasn't alone anymore. Rushing about, she saw two men walking around the corner, speaking in a language she didn't understand, but had heard before. It was – Russian? Supposedly. She had caught Krum muttering to himself once and that had been completely different from how he spoke now. Krum's moans had nothing too pleased to it either and Karkaroff was visibly upset.

They scudded down the corridor, stopping at the wall. Hermione had stepped aside already so they wouldn't run into her. However, Karkaroff just stared at the wall and Krum at him. The student asked something, but Karkaroff's only answer was a grunt. Hermione's eyes gaped. They were in the same situation as she was. Neither knew the password. Or did –

"Cantankerus Nott?", Karkaroff asked the wall and sighed with relief when the bricks moved to form an archway.

All three gazed into the underground hall. Pansy Parkinson shrieked with surprise, being stopped in mid-rotation when he saw them, but the boogie coming from a gramophone in the corner continued playing. Hermione had to quietly clap a hand on her mouth under the cloak. He had apparently just demonstrated something, like McGonagall had had every now and then during the lesson. Though Pansy seemed to know a lot more about dancing than Ron did. And the way – Hermione didn't really dare to – spin – the thought on. It had just – it –

"Can I help you?", he asked, dropping his hands and Pansy's with them, letting go.

"I – wondered – uh – ", Karkaroff stammered, high pitched, causing many of the Slytherins to break into subdued fits of giggling.

"Yes?", Snape urged, but sounded in fact uninterested. "Do you want to take part in the dancing lesson?"

"Um – I – only – I – "

"Cor blimey!", he murmured. "Find words or get lost!", Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, how old _are_ you?"

"You know perfectly well how old I am!", Karkaroff groaned, his normal voice back.

"Then stop acting like a Chinese school girl.", snorted Snape.

"Hey!", a sixth-year girl with clear Asian features hissed.

"Shut it. I know your parents are from Korea.", he huffed just loud enough Hermione could catch it.

"I – ", Karkaroff looked around, and continued in foreign tongue.

"And why should that bother me?", the students gaped at him with serious confusion. "I believe we agreed, that this topic was off the table? So, unless you, as I asked, wish to stay and watch these clumsy ferrets fail at their first attempts to grow up, you may go back to your ship."

"It is not as easy as this!", Karkaroff protested.

"Strange. I don't see any difficulty,", he sharply waved his hand at the gramophone and the needle snapped up, silencing the music.

"But you have to see that this is happening!"

"I can see it, thank you. After all I was blessed with a pair of quite well functioning eyes. So, if you would, my students are far from being able to survive even two minutes in a dance.", Karkaroff pouted, turned on his clacking heels and left Krum standing in the archway. "And what are you still doing here?", Hermione got the peculiar impression that he was not looking at Krum, but directly at her.

"I – vould not mind a lesson, if I think about it, Sir."

"Then come in.", Snape sighed.

The bricks closed. Hermione hesitated for some moments, then she ran after Karkaroff, her feet muffled by the socks. He was faster than she had expected. It took her all the way up to the Entrance Hall to catch up with him, not only because the cloak was dangerously bulging up between her legs several times and she had to slow down for not falling over. She found him at the opened front gate, staring into the clear night. The moon wasn't as full as it had been last night, but the light worked enchanting on the snow-covered yard. Despite having run, Hermione started to shiver from the cold.

Trying not to pant too heavily, she stepped behind a decorated suit of armour that luckily appeared ignorant to her clumsiness almost having knocked it over, pulled off the cloak and stuffed it into her bag. She then paced towards Karkaroff from behind. The man must have heard her breathing at least, as he turned around.

"What are you doing here, girl? Wait – aren't you – that friend of Harry Potter?"

"I am.", Hermione said, coming to halt in a respectful distance.

"What was your name again?"

"Hermione Granger, Sir.", he nodded limply and turned his head back into the night. "I don't want to be impolite, but – may I ask, how did you meet?"

"How did I meet what?", Karkaroff looked at her again, a bit uncertain as she rummaged for her shoes and slipped them on.

"How you met – Professor Snape."

"This is none of your business.", he grunted.

"It is. So, would you tell me?"

"No, and no. If this is all you want from me now, I cannot help you."

"You can, Sir. And I can keep secrets. I can take them to my grave, if I must.", more than her shoes had, her confident expression drew his interest, or maybe it was only because she had taken a few more steps so she stood in front of him, parallel to the threshold.

"And why would you want to know?"

"Because he saved my life. He's saved me from a number of Dementors last year. You're his friend. Please help me to understand him."

He curled his lips nearly as much as his goatee was, pondering for a while. Slightly fascinated, Hermione studied the moonlight reflecting in his blue eyes, making them appear like crystal gems. Along with his; not as massive as described in stories; silver hair and the white fur coat, his fair skin in the bluish white shine gave her the impression she was standing in front of Father Frost himself. There was no hint of his usual smile between his sharp cheekbones, let alone the lively grin – only the cold that had ever remained in those glistening eyes, now having conquered his whole face. As the pure light shone on it, she saw that his cheeks and nose carried a nice amount of pallid freckles she hadn't gotten to notice before. She wondered how old he was indeed, as from her close distance, he looked a little too young for his hair to have lost its colour already.

"It was in summer nineteen seventy-eight.", he said, yanking her from her considerations. "I had decided to leave behind everything and follow a mere hint on the chance I could meet my family – I moved to the north of Germany, to a place my parents had been said to live – a place full of narrow-minded Muggles. You see, I never knew my parents. I grew up in an orphanage and moved to the countryside once I was old enough to look after myself."

"You lived all alone in the middle of nowhere? That must have been – "

"What. What must it have been.", Karkaroff murmured.

"Nothing. So? Germany?"

"Well, unfortunately, I only found their graves – and a stray dog biting me as I was about to leave the graveyard.", he huffed at the memory of it. "I didn't speak a word of German and none of the people there knew Russian or English or Swedish or any other language I could possibly get more than disgusted looks from them with. I could not even ask for – a – doctor – or the shortest way to the next hospital. On top, they all preferred to walk away than at least trying to help a wounded man in a once-in-a-century-rain. Everyone but him. He brought me to a back alley and made me sit down on some wooden boxes. As he examined the bite, he spotted the wand in my pocket sticking out a bit. Of course I noticed and wanted to hide it. But then he drew his."

"So he – "

"Probably saved my life, yes. He had said that the wound had become infected already."

There was another long pause, and slowly, understanding began to form an invisible bridge, connecting their eyes in the half shadow. Karkaroff carried on.

"Although he recognised me and knew of my – uh – rather unpleasant reputation, he was kind to me. Arranged things so I could live in that hostel with him and his mother, who had fled from England as the situation got tense. You perhaps know – "

"It was war.", Hermione nodded.

"Yes. He as well had been living there for only two weeks yet, working at a florist's."

"He – worked at a – ", her eyes widened.

"The only place he found work at in the Muggle world. He told me, that with the little Muggle money they had, he had bought his mother some of her favourite flowers to cheer her up. The shop owner spoke broken English, but they communicated via the Latin names of the flowers. That impressed her so much she decided to hire him. Together they managed to appoint me as an assistant of the village's butcher. We had a wonderful time, despite the low standard. We had all we needed to be happy. Or so it was, until the end of the year though."

"What happened?"

"The heaviest winter I have ever seen, and this means a lot. I have spent most of my young years up in northern Russia and Scandinavia. I used to be a student of the noble school that is now in my hands, you see. Severus' mother went out into a snowstorm through a neighbour's window when Ursula didn't come. Ursula was the florist, you must know. We had asked her to come to our place, where she would be safe if the storm got stronger. But she did not turn up. So his mother went to look for her, but the snow was already high enough to cover the street up to the first floor. She must have used a tracking spell then, because that is the last her wand showed when we found it. She lost it when the roof of a glasshouse had given in, one of those heated ones that were supplied by a diesel generator, but that thing must have run out of fuel. She fell about nine feet, on the edge of a tray that held some flowers. It broke her backbone around her waist and she was buried under glass and snow."

"Oh my god – ", Hermione gasped, "Did – did she – "

"Severus must have known that something was not alright. We went looking for her as well, in the same manner, and found her there, barely alive, and as cold as the ice around. Severus wanted to free her, but she – she pleaded him to abandon her and save himself. She – died in his arms."

Hermione had had no idea that silence could actually hurt. But that following his words stabbed into her ears like the wild spears of a merciless army. She felt tears flooding her eyes. At the same moment, she saw Karkaroff's becoming glassy.

"He tried to reanimate her, but she had left. The only reason he didn't die as well, was because I covered us three with my cloak. The very same cloak I wear now. But it was little alleviation, as you might see. I sent a tracker for Ursula – it came back immediately – flashed – but did not change its colour. She must have been exactly beneath, and having had no chance. We didn't stay long enough to get her body out as well. If you excuse me now, I am tired.", Hermione only nodded. "I hope that helped you to understand him. Do not ever think bad of him, if he gets rough. His life wasn't too pretty so far. Things that grow dear to him, tend to be ripped from his arms.", he took a deep breath. "Good night, Miss – Granger."

She could do nothing but watch him leave through the yard and over to the stairs leading to the docks, trenching the untouched new snow. The guilt rising in her was slowly eating her from inside. That her brain had created the image of those two men being – she was disgusted of herself.

Karkaroff was long gone, when she heard shuffling footsteps from behind. Though she couldn't care less. Should they. Should they give her detention and take a million points from Gryffindor. Points mattered not a thing. The whole House-Cup-business was just a stupid game. A game to make children follow rules more voluntarily. A game away from the actual reality of life. The noise got louder, but she didn't turn. If they wanted to do her down, they would anyway. But the voice that spoke, was nothing like she had expected.

"Vot are you doing here in the middle of the night, so alone?", her eyes gaped and she spun around. "Are – are you not cold?"

"I – er – no – ", she considered, blushing. "Not really."

"Vould you like my cloak?", he took it off and attempted to offer it to her. "It is really very cold here for someone like you."

"Oh no.", she waved him off. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Then not.", he sighed and hung it back on his shoulders. "Haff – haff you seen Karkaroff, by the vay?"

"Yes he – went to the docks."

"Thank you. Uh – please do not think I vos – vot is this vrase? Sneaking around?"

"I don't.", Hermione smiled. "I'm sure you must have your reasons. I also enjoy the castle at night.", she lied, but momentarily wasn't sure whether it wasn't the truth.

"You do?"

"Yes. It's – all calm – and silent. Just – beautiful.", she sighed, her artificial smile vanishing.

"It is. Like you.", Hermione blushed more.

"Don't say that."

"It is the truth."

"I – am charmed.", she frowned with a smirk, relieved that he obviously didn't see in that light that she had been crying.

"I am glad you are.", he studied her for a couple of seconds and she suddenly noticed that there was some big ginger fluff by his legs.

"Crookshanks!", she gasped. "What're you doing here?"

"Is – is that your cat?", Viktor's look travelled between them.

"Yes!"

"He found me. Suddenly he vos there – and followed me.

"Seems he likes you then,", Hermione chuckled, but was confused by Viktor puckering his lips.

"Feels more like he tries to find out if I am up to something,"

"Oh no, he does that with everyone he starts to like,", she meant to convince him – or rather herself.

"You like reading?"

"Yes. I do.", Hermione chuckled on the change of topic.

"You see, I often vatched you go to the library or sit around, reading."

"I noticed."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Oh. But I – I vos not spying on you, you know?"

"I believe you."

"Thank you. Uh – you know, this ball thing – everyone is talking about – do you go there?"

"I wish I could."

"Vhy? Are you not in the vourth year? I thought you – "

"I am. It's just – ", he stepped a little closer, confusing her a bit.

"No one asked you?"

"Yeah.", she stared at him.

"I vos actually hoping you say that."

"Why?"

"Because – I vanted to – ask you – already in the moment I – heard about the ball. I only could – think of no vay to ask you. I – vos afraid you say – "

"Yes.", Hermione aspirated.

"You – ", he blinked heavily, which made his thick brows flick.

"Yes.", she beamed, not knowing what drove her. "Yes, I would absolutely like to!"

"That is – that is great!"

"Yeah."

"Deffinitely.", he sighed with relief.

"Definitely.", her excited grin transformed to a warm smile.

"I am looking forward to it, Hermy-own.", he hesitantly took her right hand.

"So am I.", Hermione grinned when he placed a kiss on it.

"Good night, then.", he smiled.

"Goodnight.", she giggled and looked after him as he followed the path Karkaroff had dug into the snow.

A broad grin on her face, she took off her shoes and threw Harry's cloak over again. Yes, that was life. The very present life where good and bad things followed one another at a constant pace. As constant as her running steps up through the fastest shortcuts. Waking an annoyed Fat Lady from her sleep, who fortunately didn't look up whether there was actually someone standing in front of her portrait, Hermione hopped into the common room, still grinning, though a bit out of breath now. But her grin got stuck in mid-room when she felt the cloak being pulled off her from behind. Too shocked for a scream, she swirled around to see Ginny in the scarce bluish light, holding the shimmering cloak with an eyebrow raised.

"What the hell are you doing!", she hissed.

"What are _you_ doing here!", Hermione hissed back.

"I saw you sneaking up the boys' dormitory. What was so important, that you had to steal Harry's cloak and wander around the castle at night?"

"I – had to check something."

"Check."

"Yes."

"And? Does he give dancing lessons?", Hermione's mouth fell open. "Well, Fred and George kept urging Harry to sneak down all after you were gone. They thought he might agree once you were away and unable to tell him off, but he kindly refused. And I'm not stupid. I know that you're after information about Snape, not just since we caught him and Karkaroff talking. So, _does he give dancing lessons_?"

"He – ", Hermione aspirated perplexed, "Is a – marvellous – dancer – "

"Whow. Really?"

"Yes."

"Have you been watching all the time?"

"Um – yes.", she lied. "But – want to know what?"

"What?"

"Please don't tell anyone.", she grinned and stepped closer so she could speak even more quiet.

"I won't."

"I – caught Viktor Krum wandering around in the castle too."

" _What?_ ", Ginny hissed doubtfully.

"But not what you might think. He really wasn't up to anything. Though he – ", Hermione bit her lips.

"Yes?"

"He asked me to the ball.", she whispered into the other girl's ear.

"And?"

"Well, I said yes, of course!", Hermione sniggered.

~~#~~


	3. Chapter 2 - Friends from the North

– Chapter 2 –

 **Friends from the North**

He was already so dizzy from dancing that the cold air in the yard felt like diving into a different world. The snow between the rose bushes was trampled and somehow the bushes didn't look as neat anymore as they had when he had seen them before entering the castle. Though the fairies still flew around, casting multicoloured glows on the leaves and flower petals as well as the ground and himself. Wondering what could have messed the roses so much, he searched his way back to the stairs in the corner of the archway, his slouching accompanied by the sound of the built up fountain in the middle of the yard and the music from inside.

Finally through the labyrinth, he looked out between the arches and over the gloomy lake. Lights were burning in the ship already, their shine glistening eerily on the surface. It was destiny, he thought. That they had met in the Entrance Hall. Had she already returned to her dormitory or was she still hanging around with her friends? However, the longer he thought of her, the more he felt like he wasn't alone. He rushed around and startled.

Dark eyes stared from a white face, carrying a nondescript expression. The hands were as pale as the face and seemed in an odd position. It took his eyes some seconds to get used to the contrast due to the light from behind the thick corner pillar. He then noticed that the man; covered entirely in black; leaned against the pillar, his arms and legs crossed. After the first shock was gone, Viktor could put up a smile. It was returned, though hesitantly and not very convincing.

"Going to bed already?", the deep, soft voice spoke.

"Oh yes. I think, I haff enough. Thank you, Sir, by the vay. For letting me join the lesson."

"Any time. So, you enjoyed it?"

"Oh yes! It vos great! A vonderful ball!"

"And – Miss Granger? Did she enjoy it as well?"

"Uh – I think so? Ve danced to almost every song, Sir, and she grinned all the time – I vos vorried her smile got stuck or something, but I think it vos honest.", blowing a chuckle through his nose, Snape lowered his head, the smile growing for just a moment, until it almost faded again. "Sir?", he raised his head on the worried call. "Is – is everything alright?"

"Yes.", he sighed. "Yes, I am fine."

"Oh good. For a moment you looked like something – bothers you, Sir. Uh – is there something bothering you? I saw you and Professor Dumbledore talk in a corner. You looked – vot vos that vord? Unnervered?"

Viktor eyed him with even bigger concern about the sad and exhausted look that faced him. Then someone else was coming, eradicating the chance for drilling into unpleasant details. Heavy, hasty footsteps. Moments later, a white rush of fur stormed around a hedge and the sound of his shoes, having been muffled by the snow before, clattered on the stone floor now. Spotting his student, he stopped. Only a second after that, his head rushed to the pillar.

"Still here, Igor?", Snape sighed bored, not taking his eyes off the Durmstrang champion.

Karkaroff just curled his lips for a while before he stomped past them and downstairs, out of sight. Viktor gazed after his Headmaster with confusion. When he was gone, he looked back at Snape.

"Don't mind him. He is unsure about how much what he wants differs from what he is capable of, and in addition, not even sure anymore what he actually wants. But one would expect me to be used to it by now. However, I cannot bear to which extent his poise has crumpled towards the level of a hormone-struck teenager."

"Uh – ?"

"In other words, it is complicated to have him as a friend.", he gritted his teeth, contorted his then closed lips with them and frowned limply when he huffed through his nostrils. "You like Miss Granger, don't you?", his expression was back to empty.

"I – I do, very much."

"Be careful."

"Uh – does she bite?", Viktor raised his thick eyebrows with a chuckle.

"Be careful with her.", screams of fury echoed down to them from an open window of the Gryffindor common room in the distance. "A little more careful than Ronald Weasley.", he lightly pushed himself off the pillar and loosened his arms. "Good night."

"Good night, Sir – ", Viktor gazed again, now after his billowing cloak and hair until he mingled with the shadows of the archway.

~~#~~

Tears of rage stood in her eyes as she kicked off her shoes into the empty dark dormitory after she had closed the door behind. Knowing she had been the last to leave the room, her anger grew when she realised how cold it was and saw that she had forgotten to close one of the windows. Crying, she pushed up her dress, pulled her wand from a strap she had attached to her right leg and gave the window an upset wave. It fell shut noisily. Then she flicked the wand at the oven. She sighed when another bundle of her hair slid out of the knot. Warm orange light cast upon the room now, she looked around. The stuff of the other girls was as it had been when she had gone downstairs. So was, at the foot of the bed, her own m-

Only muffled by a quick-reaction slap of her hand on her mouth, a shocked shriek escaped her. A black cloak hung over her closed trunk. There. On her bed. Sitting against the head of it. Arms and legs crossed. With his shoes on!

"I have cleaned them.", he said calm and slow, interpreting the change in her expression right.

"What – ", she breathed, "What are you doing here, Professor?"

"Sitting on your bed.", Hermione dropped her shoulders with annoyance, tears still trickling from her eyes.

"What an extremely funny joke, Sir.", her voice shook though of her bored tone.

"I know.", the emptiness of his look remained unchanged. "Don't you hear the whole castle laughing?"

"Why are you here."

"If you do not favour my company, just say. I will leave immediately.", Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to reply. "He's jealous."

"Who?"

"Jealous, because he couldn't gain enough confidence to ask you and – trying to protect you now, as he failed at first instance. What he couldn't achieve due to his lack, he wants to temper with driving a wedge between you and Mr Krum. However, that shall not bother you. Do what feels right."

"Are you – are you giving me advices, Sir?", she murmured. "About – my private life?"

"If you name it so,"

"I – ", she broke off when he raised from the bed and walked towards her.

"You should loosen your hair, before the effect of whatever you took to make it look like this, wears off. I believe, you won't be able to untie it otherwise and trust me, most people are appalled when they see a bald girl, especially when they know her hair to have vanished overnight."

Hermione was literally frozen when he reached out and started to pull the pins and needles from her still sleek hair. Bundle after bundle, it fell down on her shoulders and back, twice as long as naturally. She slightly shivered when he placed the small objects in her hand, closing her fingers around them, although his were warm. Her look trailed down the ornamental silver clasps on his black robe with delicate purple embroidery. She had never seen that robe on him before. Also his hair wasn't _as_ greasy as usual. The slight waves shimmered silky in the orange light and were a little bit messed which made her understand that he had taken benefit from the already open window. Due to this rather uncommon appearance for him, it felt to her as if he could have been just one of those foreign strangers downstairs.

"How many languages do you speak?", she asked quietly, straight into his dark eyes, feeling his warm fingers wrapping hers gently.

"I speak Scottish Gaelic, Russian and French fluently, as well as Latin and bits of German."

"French – I've heard that too. You showed some of those Beauxbatons the way to the Ravenclaw Tower the night they arrived. Why did they want to go there? Um – sorry.", but he seemed to have known already that she had been there. "Where have you learnt French?"

"It had happened to have appeared being useful.", he plainly said, forcing her to accept that she was not to ask further.

"I didn't see you dancing tonight, Sir.", Hermione whispered, listening to a distant, muffled song.

"I preferred making sure that no one took the opportunity of the night and went somewhere they shouldn't.", Snape whispered back, causing Hermione to shiver again.

"Would _you_ – like to take – an opportunity, Sir?"

"Pardon?", the teacher frowned.

"The band's still playing – and you didn't have a dance yet – "

"What makes you think, I'd want to dance?"

"I don't know – I only thought, you might. So?"

"Are you asking me for a dance, Miss Granger?", he murmured.

"Then not.", she dropped her shoulders with a sigh.

The embarrassing silence this brought, was hardly bearable for her. She could hear the song end, but it was too far away for any applause from the people who were still in the hall to reach them. Myron Wagtail announced the absolutely final encore. One last chance, she thought – and could hardly hold back a grin when he told everyone that it was actually the song's title. It was a slow waltz. Hermione swallowed, staring up into those dark tunnels.

Too surprised to even startle, she found her left fist; still holding the tiny objects; lifted warily to his collarbone and the hand he had done it with, on her back then. The fingers of his left hand wrapped her right, closing the grip around her wand like a complete shell, the thumb softly on the first knuckle of her index finger. Those hands raised as well, he did the first step so secure that she couldn't have even avoided moving along in the right way if she had meant to resist.

Swaying in the rhythm, Hermione let herself be moved over the floor. Their dance didn't take in much space, but the slow, steady turns made her sleepy – though in a positive way. Not daring to take her eyes off his so she wouldn't sink against him, she studied every feature of his pale face in the constant change of light on it as they turned.

Then it happened. Unable to control herself any longer, she leaned closer, her right ear against his chest. Not willing to hear the voices in her head, she locked out her sanity, wanting to remind her that she was just snuggling up to one of her teachers, and especially, the one who was most taboo of all, being the one everyone hated because he hated everyone. Though she knew it wasn't just as simple as this and therefore concentrated on something that was indeed very simple:

Drumming placidly almost in time to the music, the beating of his heart filled her ear and made her eyes close. Accompanied by it, his chest rose and sank a little with every breath, creating a very own rhythm she had never felt before. Yes, she had cuddled to both her parents' chests, but that was many years ago and the current situation could just not be compared to that. It made her forget everything, every word of rudeness he had thrown at her or her colleagues – every vitriolic look he had given them, all the detestation he had received in return. For now, he was just human. In fact he _was_ only human. A very flawed human being, but in those current moments, the beast was asleep and not so scary anymore. In fact, very misunderstood, if she thought about it. He was solely a man with a heart that was beating like everyone else's; breathing like all others.

She could lightly feel his chin resting on her head and wondered whether his eyes were closed as well. Finally catching herself that she thought too much, she shortly curled her lips and then tried to shut any thoughts out again, ignoring the fact that her bare feet became cold even though they still danced around the spot. As slow as the song, his head slid down onto her left shoulder and she knew that he was nothing but human when she noticed that he buried his face in there, his breath remaining calm.

Not knowing why or how she managed to do so, Hermione's fist searched its way around his neck and pulled him close. He however didn't make any further move but continuing the steady dance until the end of the song, at which he slowed down even more, coming to halt at last. His hand glided around hers with the wand and carefully pressed it to his free collarbone. Standing in that sort of embrace, time flew past them, unregarded. Only after what felt like days to Hermione, she raised her voice.

"I'm sorry.", her teacher took a deep breath on the quiet words, lifted his head like she did then and blinked at her in a way she knew that he had indeed had his eyes closed.

"What for?", he breathed.

"For your mother."

His lips lightly parted. The next thing she knew was that all the warmth around her was gone, like him, after he had flicked the window open before flying out. All air seemed to be drained from her lungs as the cold flowed inside again. Her still swollen eyes drifted past the oven. Apparently, there had yet been one single breath. It left her when she spotted the cloak. Squinting her eyes, both her arms and shoulders sank as much as her head and she started crying once more.

"What – the hell – where you – thinking!", she muttered to herself.

Sobbing heavily, she walked over to her bed, dropped the tiny things from her hand as well as her wand on her bedside table and went to the other side where the trunk rested on a broad commode. Just slowly, she pulled up the soft, massive black fabric with purple embroidered seams, her fingers beginning to clutch it while her eyes didn't really see what was in front of them. Not knowing what she actually did, she lifted her hands, buried her nose in the thick cotton and inhaled. It somehow smelled like the air outside, obviously from flying. Though there was something else. It was – what she had smelled for the past minutes. _His_ smell. And it was so pleasant she hated herself for liking it. Trying to not make her tears trickling into it, she stared blank at the wall and –

The door was opened carefully behind her. Hermione blushed, her eyes gaping with shock. As if a gust of hot wind had hit her face, her tears dried instantly. Listening and blinking, she slightly lowered her hands.

"Hermione?", it was Parvati Patil's worried voice. "Are you okay? I – when I came back, I found Ron sitting alone in front of the fire, muttering to it. He's like he he's gone mad. Things sounding like he's trying to convince himself that he's right about something.", Hermione snorted. "Was – was that you? That girl who screamed? I could hear it in the Entrance Hall, you know? Have you been fighting?", she decided not to answer. "Hermione?", she heard her walking closer. "What are you holding there? Is that – a cloak?", angry again, she could see the other girl from the corner of her eye, peeking across her bed, seemingly trying to stay in a safety distance just in case. "A bit big, isn't it?"

"It's not mine.", Hermione spoke out loud what should have been obvious.

"Whose is it?"

"Viktor's."

"Viktor Krum's?", Parvati's eyes and mouth widened. "He gave you – his cloak?"

"Yes. We went for a walk, so he lent it to me. I will return it tomorrow."

"Return – honestly?", Parvati chuckled. "If I was you, I'd defend it like it's a huge treasure chest filled with gold and diamonds!"

Neither could help laughing. Yes, the thought was indeed surprisingly tempting. But she couldn't just keep a teacher's cloak, could she?

~~#~~

Surprised shrieks echoing from between the tattered hedges as the freshly fallen snow was blown from them and onto the girls, who complained even louder about their hairdos being ruined. But why to care? The night was over. No one was there to marvel at anyone's hair, as French and foreign as it was. He, didn't bother. And if he had messed up their Headmistress' mane. Storming between the upset harpies, he marched straight forward back into the castle. Unfortunately the front gate still stood wide open, so he had no excuse to blow it in. He begged for anything to be standing in his way, just to make it explode before he would.

Had he really allowed himself something like _that_ , only to be confronted with his mother? By a nosy teenager brat who knew nothing at all about her? Was this how he was going to be repaid? For everything? Lame, meaningless condolences? And what was that laughter in the hall about? How could anyone possibly laugh when – was that – ?

The laugh had come so unexpected he couldn't believe his feet had actually stopped upon it to grant his eyes a stare. What did he stare at anyway? At the end of the hall the band was packing and a group of students slowed them down by brazenly talking to them. Didn't they care about privacy at all? Those students?

But that wasn't what his eyes had fallen at. It was a yellow dress. Flowing, shining in the sparkling light around, a black ribbon of silk binding it under her chest, thinning at the back and gliding smoothly into the lacing down to her waist. She was standing on the stage, joking with the drummer and the students laughed with them. The drummer's laugh was rather awkward, but hers – he hadn't noticed how bright and healing it was, not in all those years he had known her.

As soon as he realised, he felt stupid. How could he not have seen that? When had the pencils gone? Although her haircut was still radically anarchistic, somehow, in that cocoon of patterned cotton dresses, self-knitted stockings and vests, the pigtailed caterpillar had grown to become a golden butterfly – and he had missed it. She had become a woman, but not overnight, had she? Where had he been all that time, not having seen it? The clumsy girl was now a being of a kind of gentleness he hadn't gotten to find his eyes on in many years. Of all, of everyone he had seen growing up past his nose, he had missed her metamorphosis?

But there was one thing that managed to calm him, as much as it struck him when it hit him: her smile was still the same. When she turned it down to the students, he could still see her as one of them. In spite of standing above them, not only on the stage, but due to being their teacher, she hadn't drawn a border, hadn't built up a wall. She was their friend, when no one was. The awareness that it had originally been him to have shown her the possibility of such oddness, was too much for him. He needed to get away. Down in his rooms he would be fine. Away from the world that apparently had pleasure in crushing him anew, every year around Christmas.

"Hey!"

And again he was not in control of his feet. He wanted them so badly to move on, to ignore the call, but he must have stepped into some sort of glue that had hardened while he had stood before the gilded doors. Not enough, his eyes were back on her, and all others on him. The only good thing about the attention was that he could distract himself from it by looking directly at her and nothing else.

"Not tonight, okay?", she called across the hall. "It's Christmas!"

"I know the calendar perfectly well, thank you.", he couldn't help huffing back.

"You know what I mean, do you?"

"No.", that was the truth.

"You're not going to give anyone detention tonight, just because they're not in bed yet, you hear me?"

"I have no intention of wasting my rare free days with having to take care of ruthless kids in long, frustrating hours in which they won't learn a thing about life. Especially not since I prefer to spend those days alone, all by myself, without having to listen to annoying – "

"That is too bad, you know?", she interrupted him, leisurely putting her hands on her hips in the teenager-like way she still used to.

"What?"

"Because I have no intentions at all either, to let you rot in your tiny chambers, alone, all by yourself,"

"And how do you think you can – "

"Oh, maybe, if that can charm a little smile onto your grumpy face, I could throw out those _ruthless kids_ here and you come over for a dance?"

"No.", it surprised him how quick that refusal had left him.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you,", she held her hand to her ear in such a childish way that, combined with her pose, it was indeed hard not to drop a chuckle.

"I said,", he replied clearly speaking, "That is not necessary, as I will go to bed now. _Good, night._ "

"Oh, no, no, no, no.", she bossily brandished a finger. "No. _You_ , aren't going anywhere. _They_ here, will go to bed now.", expectedly, she earned protest; loudest, from Ginny Weasley, who still stood by Neville Longbottom. "Oh yes, and how. It's way past your bedtime and I'm sure you all want to be able to identify your Christmas presents as even parcels. And you can't keep the Sisters nailed to the stage all night. They're only waiting to be paid and then they're off anyway. So, goodnight now, you lot. And you, over there, yes, I'm talking to you, grump; I need you right here by my feet for a serious word. Right here, right yesterday already."

He could have walked off before the murmuring students would have reached him, but he knew it wasn't worth the following trouble at all. No matter how much he hated his life, he could never hate it _as_ much as to not bother making it worse. So he slouched into the hall, meeting with the upset teenagers, ignoring their loathing stares. They walked by, and were out of his sight. Tomorrow they would remember only what they always remembered: that grouchy old Snape ruined the party by his mere existence. That's what he could live with. That's what he was used to.

However, he could not live with the fact that her arms slid down, hanging so gentle again. Up there on the stage, shining in the light, the packing band in the background vanishing into nowhere while the light was only for her, the long side of her hair falling smoothly over her bare shoulder and onto the strapless dress, that calm smile under her rosy cheeks – she looked like an innocent angel and such a powerful goddess at once, yet fragile, probably breaking in the first gust to hit her.

Only a few yards were left between them, but he had to stop walking. She had elegantly withdrawn her wand from a strap that was bound to her right leg and swung it at the gilded doors to shut them behind the flustered students. Now it was only them, the Weird Sisters and the partly messed crystal decoration.

"Now don't look at me like that,", she laughed "I won't jinx you."

"I think you already did,", meant the bassist.

"Shut up!", the chuckle lost none of its cheerful charm when she pointed her wand at him. "Mind what you're saying or _you_ will end up being jinxed, and trust me, that won't look pretty, because it won't be me to do that."

"Too bad, I wouldn't have minded being jinxed by you,"

"Would you please help me down and away from those morons?", she moaned, still with a smirk.

"Any time.", she was already offered a hand before she had time to take a step forward.

"No, that won't work, I'm afraid."

"What. Do you want me to catch you, or what?", Severus chuckled.

"Maybe? Or have you forgotten how to do that?"

"No. It's been a while, but no."

"Great. On three – "

But she didn't count, she simply jumped and he was fast enough to hold out his arms for her hips to land on them. Her speed however made him spin and he could just catch himself in last second to not fall over with her. Although he let her down immediately, she didn't let go of his shoulders, laughing again.

"Thanks for saving the princess from the trolls.", she grinned quietly and placed a swift kiss on his cheek. "You're not blushing now, are you?"

"How could I dare to?", he whispered.

"Shall I ask the trolls to not pack away everything already?"

"You still insist on that dance, don't you?"

"Of course,"

Not understanding what drove him, he already wanted to ask the band whether they could play a single song for the sake of making her happy, but Wagtail picked up his Chuitar, sat down on the edge of the stage and started to play. Surprisingly, he knew the melody. Or rather, surprisingly to him, Wagtail knew it.

"She told us she's Muggle-Born and that this was the first gig of a wizarding band she's been to. I hope you don't mind, Sir."

"Don't worry, he doesn't mind those insects at all,"

"Although that's not her name,", he meant to correct when Wagtail started singing, but she took his hands, her wand now stuck behind her left ear, entangled in the waves.

"D'you really think I give a damn?", she whispered.

"Clearly not.", the smile left him before he felt it coming when she pulled him into her swaying.

"Oh wow,"

"What."

"It's really been a while since you cracked only a little smile when someone else was around,"

"They don't need to know that fact, do they?", Severus whispered back.

"No. But I do wonder, you know? I mean,", he spun her, "How can you be so depressed?"

"How can I not?"

"Okay, with the Tournament and all, sure, I understand, but it's got a positive aspect, doesn't it?"

"If you're trying to lure me into being happy about seeing Igor again, he's a pest."

"Didn't keep you from letting him live with you, if I have to remind you."

"Different times, Charity.", he sighed.

"I wouldn't say; sure, a lot's happened since, he's still the same pest. He hasn't changed at all, as far as I could see it."

"And that's exactly it."

"Oh wait – it bothers you that nothing might have changed for him? Trust me, the world has changed for him. He's got more of a current reason to be depressed too. Don't tell me that scares you."

"To be honest, it does. I'm not exactly sure whether I'm ready yet for wishing those times back concerning him,"

"I think you are.", she giggled.

"What?"

"No reason to stop in place, Severus.", the force she pulled him back into the dance with was incredible. "I can see how you're looking at him. You need more than one friend. That doesn't mean I'm sick of our man-to-man-talks, but wouldn't they be better off with a guy?"

"And you don't tell me you're thinking of him to be the right one for such.", Severus huffed. "You can't be serious."

"Okay, he's probably not the right one for _that_ , but don't you think you should tell him that he's got no need to feel ashamed? I mean, as far as I got that, according to you, he did nothing wrong. Why don't you tell him that he doesn't need to wait for you to forgive him?"

"That is a bad idea."

"Honestly?", she chuckled disbelievingly.

"Yes. Because I already told him that I've forgiven him."

"What? Why!"

"Because he wouldn't understand the truth."

"And you think that because?"

"Because I know him. Much better than you do."

"Sure, you can see how he's pleading to spend some time with you?"

"He's pleading for something else. He wants me to tell him that he's not scared for nothing."

"No, I think, your marks are only his excuse to get your attention because he's too shy to tell you he needs a friend. So he comes with business, in hope you get his intention."

"Do we really have to talk about him now?", Severus moaned, still quiet.

"What else should we talk about? My aching feet because these shoes are fucking horror? Or about how I can possibly get out of that dress, now that Bathsy's decided to get drunk in the teachers' cabinet with Pommy and Rols and that I have no idea who else to ask as I don't really want to try ripping and repairing it or how I could get my crazy shower to work properly again – "

"I could try tricking Peeves into a deal in return for removing whatever's blocking your shower, while you use mine? And it wouldn't be my first time to help you out of a dress."

"Oh yes, but you know, it didn't help me much that you tried to convince them you figured the code yourself or that you had long hair."

"I still have long hair and that particular excuse was yours. And we're both teachers now, with their own rooms and no need to apologise to upset Hufflepuff girls, no matter what colour that uncomfortably stunning dress of yours is. Would you accept my help if I top it with the offer to burn those shoes of _fucking horror_ , as you call them?"

"That would be a grand idea.", Charity shortly laughed and let her head sink to his chest. "You help me out of the dress in candlelight, watched by the Giant Squid and its naughty imagination, then I abuse your shower while you burn my shoes and bribe Peeves and then you come back to lend me one of those oversized grey sacks of yours, because I'll probably be too tired to even let myself be flown back up to my own bed by you."

"Agreed.", Severus smiled and held her slightly closer. "As long as you don't invite the Squid while I'm away for Peeves,"

"I need neither pervert.", she chuckled flatly. "You're sure however, that you want me in your bed?"

"Wouldn't be a first,"

"I know, I know. But what if I'm snoring again?"

"I survived every single time."

"Are you really so lonely that you tolerate a snoring badger?"

"I won't comment – "

"Ah! I was certain you wouldn't leave without payment!"

Charity startled up terribly at the beaming voice, nearly crashing her head into his chin and Wagtail broke off before he could play the last notes of the third song. They hadn't heard him opening one of the door's wings, nor seen the movement.

"But whom are you still so eager to play for?", Charity took her annoyed look off him and moved her eyes up to Severus', which did nothing but mirror her instant mood. "Tell me my eyes are fooling me! Can this be real?"

"Can this get any worse?", mumbled Charity.

"Shall I try to keep his damage as low a possible?", Severus asked.

"Try your luck,"

"Well,", he said to Wagtail, "I guess, you just got a little closer to your well deserved sleep. Thank you, and have a good night, all of you."

"No problem. Glad I could help out. Merry Christmas.", he briefly and lazily saluted and got up to securely store his instrument at last.

"Merry Christmas.", said Charity as well and waved back to them when she and Severus mutually laid their arms around each other's shoulders and turned to leave.

"Did I miss something?"

"Oh yes, you missed a lot, Albus.", Minerva behind him said. "Like for example that you shouldn't comment anything Severus does, with cheerful disbelief."

"As much as I appreciate your sympathy for him, Minny, I'd prefer if you wouldn't give him such advices while either I or even Severus can hear you. And yes, you missed the ultimate climax of the party by such a narrow inch that you just scraped it enough to make it collapse entirely."

"I – "

"Save your breath, old man.", Charity continued conceited when they passed the two who squeezed themselves to the door although the gap was big enough for five more people to be standing there. "And keep your graspers to yourself tonight. It's Christmas. That is a holy feast. Be respectful while Severus and I are going to shag the hell out of this castle."

He was exceptionally glad that they both could hold back their laughing until they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase. Still arm in arm, Severus finally returned a kiss on her cheek, but much firmer than hers had been.

"Thank you.", he grinned. "Thank you so, so much."

"I just hope – ", Charity had a hard time finding breath, "It was – bizarre enough – he doesn't actually believe – "

"His look _was_ bizarre enough though."

"I couldn't – see you turning your head?"

"He mirrored in one of those fake icicles in the Entrance Hall. I only needed a glimpse. Wouldn't have been able to bear more"

"Oh goodness. I'm so glad no one else was around. Imagine the rumours that could grow on that silly nonsense."

"What?", Severus stopped and gazed at her. "You didn't mean that?"

"Er – ", it hurt to see her grin freeze with her step, but he just had felt the need. "I – Severus!", even the little slap she gave his head was worth it.

"Sorry.", he squinted and grinned to the floor.

"No.", he looked back up to find one of those gentle smiles on her face again. "It actually means the world to me to see you capable of joking. It does you really good and I love how even a faint smile suits you much better than a bucket full of bittersweet sadness."

~~#~~


	4. Chapter 3 - A glimpse onto the veil

– Chapter 3 –

 **A glimpse onto the veil**

Dawn hung bluish grey over Hogwarts as well as the snowy lands and ice covered waters around the castle. Some snowflakes were oddly falling from the few stuffed grey veils of clouds spread over the sky. Horrible. Nothing like the stereotype of a girl. But what were stereotypes anyway? Lavender's snoring had woken her. Lying flat on her back, Hermione stared at the dark red velvet above. Actually, the snoring was to her advantage. Yawning almost silently, she stretched and slid out of her blankets, right into the plush slippers next to her bed. Standing off like a lion's mane, her hair was back to normal. She gave a quiet sigh when she saw it in the mirror. Careful not to make too much noise, she dressed, took a chewing gum for her bad morning breath, picked up the black folded pile which was his cloak, put her wand into her pocket and slipped out of the dormitory.

As expected, no one else was up. The Fat Lady and her friend Violet, still sitting in the same portrait, let out a grunt when she pushed the canvas open. All other portraits were asleep too. Only some hippopotami grazed on the painting of a savannah, oblivious to the ado in the Grand Tower as always. Taking the usual shortcuts, she walked down to the Entrance Hall. The front gate had been closed after everyone had gone to bed, only the doors of the empty Great Hall stood open. It was an unusual sight. Exceptionally beautiful, she considered.

Voices echoed distantly through the foggy air. He couldn't hear what they were saying or to whom. Grey hazes dulled his view, mixed with a blood red gleam and his insides felt like pulp, but somehow, the feeling seemed positive. Was he nervous? Maybe. He couldn't fully tell. It had been too long ago for him that he had been nervous. The years had extinguished the memory of it. Dark eyes pierced into his. Eyes of a young girl, that much he knew, even though the rest of her face was hidden behind a silver mirror in the shape of a peacock. Around the whole, a bush of dark brown curls. Was she smiling? He wasn't sure. Curious, but unable to move, only his eyes followed her left fist that rose. Dangling from it, on a thin silver chain, a small silver locket with ornamental engraving.

Sunlight fell into the scenery, making the billows shimmer, the mirror and locket glisten. Tiny sparkles blinded his eyes. Just slow, her hand opened. The chain slid from her fingers, pulled to the ground by the weight of the locket. With a loud clank, far too loud for its size, it landed on the ground, out of sight.

Then the dark eyes were gone. Instead, there were green ones. Huge green ones, on a shadowy silhouette against bright light.

Struck by the view, she remained standing in front of the doors for a while. Then something shot back to her mind.

She composed herself and walked further to the spiral staircase that led to the torch lit Dungeons. A blue shine guiding her way, she paced down the corridor leading to his office. Four firm knocks. Nothing but silence. Even the torches guttered without the faintest sound. How could she be so naïve to think he might be up already? She looked down on her shoes and closed her eyes. Should she knock again? She had never needed to knock more than those four times. But what if – a clicking sound, making her eyes open.

Suddenly there were toes in the bluish light. Grey cotton reaching the ankles. Hermione shortly blinked at the silver ring on one of the toes, her eyes; pulling her head with them; then wandering up the long grey nightshirt that was framed by a purple dressing gown, looking like everything had been thrown over hastily. A pair of hands hanging limply to his sides. She met with a very tired face. Hollow dark eyes, his hair a total mess, he gazed down on her. Unsure whether he was not still dreaming, his brows narrowed. Then he rubbed his eyes and blinked, frowning.

"Um – ", Hermione curled her lips and held the black pile towards him. "Merry Christmas?"

"Merry – ", he murmured, " _What_?"

His lips ajar, his stare fell on the fabric on her hands. A sigh escaped him and he scratched his neck in a manner that made something jump inside Hermione's brain, but she had no idea what it was.

"I knew, there was something – ", he aspirated numb and took the pile, holding it to his body with both arms wrapped around.

"I – I'm sorry."

"What is it this time?", he moaned.

"This time?", Hermione asked, frowning like he had before.

"Maybe it has escaped your notice, but you tend to constantly apologise."

"I don't!", she protested. "Sir." – just to make sure.

"Well?"

"Well, _what_?"

"What you feel sorry for.", he groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Oh. Um – I – shouldn't have mentioned it."

"Mentioned what."

"You know what I mean, Professor."

"Then why don't you say it aloud? Is it so hard to say, all of a sudden, when you could yesterday? Is it so difficult to say that you feel ashamed for having confessed that you know how my mother died? Yes, Miss Granger, you might still be in the process, but I have finished growing up many years ago. So, unless there are any more things you would like to whine about, I suggest you get back to your dormitory, before Miss Patil falls off the stairs."

" _What?_ "

Hermione's head rushed to the left. Completely shocked, Parvati stood at the end of the corridor, where she had eavesdropped.

"What the heck are you doing down here?", Hermione moaned upset.

"I could ask you just that!", Parvati replied, though a little embarrassed. "And a bit more, actually!"

"And how come, _you_ know, Sir?", she looked back at Snape who was still a bit too far inside his office that he could have possibly seen her, though he just took a step to the right, turning slightly.

"Hello, Miss.", a familiar voice squeaked.

"Dobby?", she gaped down at the big, round, shiny green eyes and the sheepish smile.

"Miss mustn't be angry with Dobby."

"I'm not."

"Thank you, Miss. Dobby saw Miss leaving the Gryffindor Tower when Dobby cleaned the stairs. Then Dobby saw the other Miss sneak after her and Dobby got curious, Miss."

"So you followed us?"

"Yes, Miss. And when Dobby understood that Miss was going to the Dungeons, he knew Miss was heading to Professor Snape."

"How – "

"You must know, Dobby has noticed that Miss has acted strange lately."

"You've been – spying on me?", but it was Snape's expression that bothered her. " _You_ put him on me?", she hissed, surprised that he couldn't even hide it, while he usually could always hide anything he wanted. "Why!"

"I didn't.", he said coldly. "The Elves are supposed to warn teachers when they spot students approaching their office at odd day- and nighttimes."

"What a nice lie, Sir.", she huffed.

"Are you accusing me – ", he became visibly angry, but she broke him off nevertheless.

"May it be the truth or not – "

"It is the truth, Miss.", Dobby whimpered.

"And what was that look then?"

"Look?", Snape raised an eyebrow, all back to normal.

"Oh, I see – I presented you with a great idea, didn't I, Professor? Not enough that my self-proclaimed friends are spying on me – ", she ferociously pointed at Parvati.

"I didn't!", the girl shouted.

"Shut up, okay? Not enough that my colleagues spy on me, now my teachers do as well?"

"May I remind you that it has been you, who quite cunningly made someone as withdrawn as Igor Karkaroff – "

"That is different!", Hermione raged.

"Keep your voice down, Miss Granger, or you will notice by breakfast that the glass of Gryffindor House lost a hundred points."

" _That is different_.", she hissed through her teeth. "And I don't give a damn about points right now.", she added under her breath.

"It might be, if I was actually spying on you, Miss Granger. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go back to bed. Dobby, thank you for warning me. You may leave."

"Any time, Sir.", the Elf bowed. "Goodbye, Sir, Miss,", with a _crack_ , he was gone.

Hermione curled her lips again. Some seconds passed in silence. Then, something strange happened. She couldn't explain why, but there was a kind of tension rising in her whole body when he stepped closer. Just inches away from her, she felt his hand gliding into the left pocket of her coat. Her eyes followed his lifting arm and glided along her wand, finding it pointed directly at Parvati. Totally dumbfounded, she watched the girl turn around. A soft, barely visible, green stream of light hit Parvati and she climbed the stairs, out of sight. Not until her wand was back in her pocket, Hermione would dare to look at him once again. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came from it. All she could do was watch his empty face move backwards and the door being closed between them.

~~#~~

It was already shortly to ten o'clock when the trio managed to persuade themselves to walk down to the Great Hall. The remains of the previous evening had successfully been removed throughout the early morning hours and Hermione felt sorry for the Houseelves who had done all that work, knowing how the hall had looked like when she had left it. Now the glistening trees were still flanking the walls neatly again, the biggest one almost reaching the top of the front window and a reduced number of permanent ice crystals were shimmering in the dim, wintry morning sun and lit fires.

From the number of people in the hall, Hermione could tell that none had felt the need for a usual breakfast time. Some were showing off the Christmas presents they had gotten, others were just unwrapping them. As cheerful as ever, Dumbledore sat in the middle of the staff table, on his silver hair, an insanely high, sharp hat that seemed to sparkle on its own and was changing bright colours. McGonagall discernibly shielded her eyes from it by leaning against her hand while she ate some sort of cream. His grim eyes travelling across the tables, Karkaroff sat extremely straight to Dumbledore's left, trying hard to avoid automatic looks at the magical madness. Even from the distance, Hermione could tell that he was eating some peculiar goulash with beans that she would have rather had at lunch, as one other part of the mix, she could identify at a closer look as roasted liver. Two chairs to his own left, were empty.

Too fixated on that lonely space, she nearly fell onto the table when she got caught with her foot at a blind attempt to climb over the bench. Shocked, she braced her hands against the tabletop and looked at her empty plate that was dangerously close to her nose.

"Are you alright?", a low voice said from behind and she slipped against a startled Harry with a shriek, glad that he had caught her.

"I – I'm fine, than-thanks!", she stammered high pitched, staring up at Viktor, her legs in a very awkward position. "Just my feet – a little – tired, still – from – from dancing – "

A strange giggle escaped her and she knew that she gave the silliest impression, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. Though Viktor didn't seem to bother. With an additional push of Harry's into her back, he helped her over the bench so she could sit down properly. What Ron had so far kept for himself that morning, returned to his expression as he reached over the table to get himself some bacon and toast. Hermione ignored it.

"Thank you, Viktor.", Ron commented it with a snort. "Did you sleep well?"

"You are velcome. And very vell, yes. You?"

"Like a baby.", she grinned and he laughed a little.

"May I sit here?", Viktor pointed between her and Ron, but Hermione panicked.

"Rather not.", she moaned which made him frown. "Ron's – not in an all too good constitution today."

"Uh – I don't think he vill bite me, vill he?"

"I'd not be so sure.", grumbled Ron, straight at his toast and Ginny, already sitting next to Neville opposite to him, raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, I can survive this, I think.", smiled Viktor and swung his legs over the bench

Ron notably slid to the right, which resulted in Seamus sliding away too and closer to Dean, who nearly pushed Fay onto Lavender, who's shoulder was now pressed against the head of a very disgusted smirking first-year boy. Ginny, as well as the twins to her right simultaneously snorted with broad smiles, which earned them a killing glance from their brother.

Harry in the meanwhile had spotted a plate with a sort of white, flat, round biscuits he hadn't seen in ages. If he was honest, he had just seen them once in his life. They contained chocolate chips and had a dot of red jam in the middle, on which a single almond slice throned. The memory of his first and last time he had eaten such was as clear as a crystal mountain lake.

It had been the day before his ninth Christmas at the Dursleys' when the Monday-postman had knocked, rather than ringing the bell. Of course, hanging around bored in his cupboard and the others in the living room by the TV with the door closed, he alone had heard the knocking. White snowflakes on the hat and jacket of his uniform and some caught in his beard, _Blackbeard_ had stood on the doormat. Harry had called him like that for himself as his beard had been more black than anyone else's he had seen by then and though he had worn his hair in a ponytail, the dark, shiny eyes and the single earring had made him look a bit like a pirate for Harry. The heavy Scottish accent had been an emphasising adding to his sailor-like appearance. Though the only contrast had been his reading glasses he had needed for deciphering the writing on the envelopes.

That one morning however, he hadn't brought post. He had come to wish Harry a Merry Christmas since he had; as the postman had stated; always accepted the post with a much brighter face than Uncle Vernon. He had given Harry a box with exactly such biscuits and, knowing from brief conversations that the Dursleys weren't too friendly with him, suggested him with a wink to hide it quickly and thoroughly.

It had also been the first time someone had patted him on the head, rather than hit him and more than that, it had been the first time he remembered that someone had hugged him. Actually it had been Harry himself who had taken the first step, but the postman had returned it in such a loving way that it could have been a father embracing his son. Harry had felt like home in those warming arms there in between the cold of the lane and the very slight warmth of the corridor. It had been one of the most wonderful things he had ever experienced and he felt horribly ashamed that he had needed a plate of biscuits to remember it.

Then, well, with his usual weary smirk, the postman had said goodbye forever because he had been removed to a post in a different village far away from Little Whinging. He had knelt down in front of Harry so he could look straight into his eyes. The postman had calmed him with words like that he would find many friends one day. He had promised it, then pulled him close another time and left into the falling snow.

Picking up one of the biscuits with a similar weary smile, Harry wondered what had become of that man now and whether he was still delivering mail in that village he had moved to. He now regretted that he hadn't asked him for the name of the village. But the biscuit – it tasted exactly like those back then. Maybe he could get to know in the kitchen where those biscuits or the recipe came from and this way somehow track down the postman. He just had to tell him that he had been right. Though his thoughts were distracted by one of the Weasley twins.

"Hang on!", Fred's attention was drawn to something that moved at the golden wings of the entrance and he dragged everyone's with it. "Count Drakul got pimped!"

The heads of the lot around him weren't the only ones to turn. It wasn't the robe or the cloak, which were plain and black as on an ordinary day, it was something glistening on his chest and in his hair. Second was not greasy, but strangely looking like elegant silken waves. Neither was it hanging down in curtains, but the ends stood off in strange ways. And some meanwhile very familiar badge shone from between the crystals and his left collar bone. The looks he received were pretty much the same all over the tables: frowning, grimaces of disbelief, widely opened mouths and eyes.

"Looks like he had sex or something,", murmured Ron.

"What?", Parvati gasped.

"Yeah. A bit like Dad's afterglow-pride, now that you say it.", meant Ginny.

Pacing incredibly feminine, he approached the middle of the Gryffindor table. Hermione swallowed heavily as she stared up at him, both of them ignoring a flashing light from across the table. Although brief surprise about where the second S.P.E.W. badge she had sold Professor Burbage had apparently gone hit her, her embarrassment reached a shocking climax when he pulled one of the pins with blue crystals from his hair, grabbed a bundle of hers and stuck it up weirdly.

"Greetings,", a second pin changed person in a similar manner, "From a certain,", followed by a wound hair clasp that was also decorated with blue crystals which he pushed up from the back and Hermione curled her lips, a mournful look on her face, blushing heavily with her head turned to the twins, "Elf.", he opened the fitting necklace and took it off as well. "Next time you – ", it was placed leisurely on top of the strangely artistic seeming creation, "Throw your jewellery at your classmates, you better – ", a third and last pin was pulled and stuck in to fix the necklace, "Recover it before the personnel does. Merry Christmas, Miss Granger.", he sneered and walked on, up to his bewildered colleagues with an awkwardly smiling Professor Burbage on his heels.

Another bright, flashing. Colin Creevey had scored for the second time. Grinning as though he had just won the House Cup, the Tournament and the Quidditch World Championship at once and all by himself, he hopped back to his seat.

"You really haff interesting teachers here, Hermy-own-ninny."

Somehow, he was right, thought Hermione. But that wasn't undoing her plight.

~~#~~

After what had started as an attempt to be, for once in her life, comfortable with herself, had transformed into a total disaster, suddenly making the entire school aware that she existed – apart from being a bookworm who supposedly loved to tell everyone off as soon as she spotted a teensy mistake, it was quite understandable that a fifteen year old girl needed her peace. Eventually, when she had been fed up with panting her lungs out while trying to get it everywhere else in the castle, she had found that peace in the deserted library, and, much to her own surprise, in an ancient sort of diary. In the soft silvery light falling in from the window to her left, she began devoting to the text. Though of course she wasn't as alone as she had hoped for. The voice of a woman made her startle up from the captivating handwriting.

"Oh goodness – and I believed, no one values a book anymore."

"It's Christmas, Madam Pince. I _am_ about the only one."

"There used to be times – "

"I'm sure they used to be. But apparently they moved on to somewhere else."

"Very well.", it surprised her to see the librarian smile. "I will no longer disturb you. Enjoy your reading, Miss Granger."

"Thanks."

She sighed when the woman walked back into the depths of the library, and she returned to the fragile pages before her. The dates could hardly be read as they had been written with red ink instead of black and the writing itself was rather akin to runes, yet it was English. Outdated for centuries of course, still she could read it and after a while she had gotten into it so well, that she wasn't even distracted by the clacking of Madam Pince's high shoes, travelling between the rows to sort back in the one or other book. So deep in, that she startled up with a gasp when the corridor had become darker, in ways. As surprised as her, he stood there for some moments, until he blinked several short times in a row and glided on to the shelf behind her. On a snort, she turned her head up to him, but he just fixated the books.

"Irma?", he called out quietly, the librarian came hurrying immediately.

"Yes? What is it?"

"That is what I wonder as well. What in the name of Golpalott _is_ this?"

"A gap."

"As if I wouldn't have come to acknowledge that myself.", he murmured. "Why is it there."

"Oh well,", Madam Pince pouted, "Maybe because the book that normally fills it, has been borrowed?"

"Well, that exactly is the problem. It shouldn't be gone."

"Be glad that students still read these days."

"It seems, we don't speak the same language. This,", he tapped at the wood on the free space with each word, "Book, is, not, to, be, _lent_. Honestly, you nearly _live_ in these halls. You of all should know that."

"Don't be so mad at me!", she snapped. "Then I happened to have made a mistake, alright? I will look up immediately who borrowed it. You can haunt them instead, if you must."

"I have a better solution."

"Neither of us is interested in your solutions, Miss Granger.", Snape puffed.

"Then not.", Hermione sighed and turned her back on the two. "I was merely suggesting that, before either of you lose your head, you should consider asking me for the logic between one single book in this entire row missing and one single book lying in front of me. Then I would have told you that it is of course logical that someone borrowed it illegally for reading it a fathom away from where it is supposed to rest."

"Oh Severus.", she could hear Madam Pince moan.

" _Then I happened to have made a mistake._ ", hissed the teacher. "Stop giving me that look."

"Fine. I will leave you to your troubles with Miss Granger. Try to treat her better than she treats his records. If that is even possible. Because, as far as I know her and can see what she is doing, no one has ever treated a book better. Not even you. It surprises me that she doesn't wear silk gloves, actually.", Madam Pince flounced off. "And don't _you_ give me that look. Oh yes, I know exactly the kind of look you have thrown after me.", she added from far away already.

"What kind of look have you given her, Sir?", Hermione mumbled under her breath, trying not to give her grin away.

"If you haven't seen it, it is none of your business, Miss Granger."

"Would you like to borrow the book from me to look up what you have meant to?"

There was no response, but after some moments of hesitation, he had sat down on the chair very close to her right and she carefully passed the book on. Never had she seen anyone treat a book with the same caution as she did. His rather thin, pale fingers tenderly flipped parchment page after parchment page, while his forehead leant against his right hand. Though the black, almost straight veil with peculiarly springy ends prevented her from seeing more than the very tip of his nose, she imagined how his dark eyes wandered over the declining lines. Whether it was her gaze he felt or something else bothering, she didn't know why he took that deep breath through his nose. But then he slowly robbed his eyes with three of his fingers and she believed to know the reason when his hand slid down onto his mouth and his breathing got stuck for a moment.

"I don't know what else you did tonight,", she said softly over his quiet yawn, "And I won't be as rude as to ask, but you should go back to sleep again."

"I am fine, Miss Granger.", he grumbled as quiet, though robbed his eyes another time.

"That looks slightly different to me."

"It doesn't matter what it looks like to you. If I say I am fine, then I am."

"You could tell me what you are looking for. I'd read it to you."

"I have found it already."

"Have you?"

"Yes.", he cautiously pointed on a date above an entry. "Nine hundred fifty-three."

"And that – is – ", she tried to read some of the text when he had placed his hand on the wooden board again.

"A prime. I had a little discussion going on whether the year he settled down was a prime, and it appears, I won the bet. If you excuse me now, I need to pocket my – winnings – ", her hand grabbed his so quickly she wouldn't even have noticed what she had done, if it hadn't been for his confused stare at it. "And what – is this – supposed to achieve?", he moved his look from her fingers that had hooked themselves between his thumb and the rest of his hand, to her face.

"You should go to bed, Sir.", he opened his mouth to say something but she had no intentions waiting for it to slip past his tongue even. "You look absolutely dreadful.", she moaned quietly and, apparently knowing that he wouldn't be able to deny it, he only curled his lips, swallowed and looked at the books in front of him, hiding his face from her once more. "Whatever this bet was about, if you really won already, I think, your opponent can wait until you have slept."

"I am sorry.", he breathed.

"You already looked horrible in the morning, but now you're worse. You really should – what?"

"I said, I am sorry.", it took her some seconds to grasp that, although he had repeated it.

"What – what for?", she breathed, and could have sworn she had heard a tiny huff escape him.

"For denouncing you in front of the whole school."

"Oh. That's – that's nothing, really.", Hermione considered. "It was – quite funny, actually. In the end. And – and I think, I deserved it. After all I kept confronting you with your personal issues that shouldn't be of my interest."

"That is right. They are my personal issues. And it was wrong of me to snap at you, while you only meant to show me that I am not – all the same for you – that you – care – "

Suddenly; she had not expected anything like it; his fingers closed around hers. Not too firm, but they did. Yet he didn't look at her, but bore her eyes resting on his silhouette while they did nothing else but sitting there in silence, and holding hands. His breathing was absolutely calm and she listened to it, as long as he would allow her. Madam Pince was gone, to somewhere in the back of the library, away from her earshot. All she could hear was their breathing and she tried to reduce the sound of her own so she would be able to hear his only, so quiet and gentle, it would have been missed with only the faintest other noise present.

Slowly, it became a bit louder, distinctive, steady. Maybe it was only because she concentrated so much on it – but then his head slightly tilted forward. A broad grin drifted on the lips she pressed together, and she even held her free hand on them then so she wouldn't wake him with an uncontrolled chuckle. Nevertheless he startled up from his doze with a sniff and she couldn't hold herself when he blinked at her, past his veil of hair.

"You should – definitely go to bed, Sir.", Hermione giggled as quiet as she could and he sighed with a flat nod, then loosened his grip and pulled his hand from hers when he stood up – but startled another time. "Sir?", she stared at the back of his head from below, but after he had overcome his hesitation, he hastily walked off, letting her see what had halted him. "Oh my – "

"Vot vos that?", Viktor's gaze wandered from her to him as he left the library, and back to her.

"What do you mean?", she said quickly, trying to look as though it was absolutely normal to hold a tired teacher's hand at Christmas.

"Vell,", he slouched over to her and – sat down where Snape had sat, staring straight into her eyes, which she tried to avoid by cautiously lifting the book back so she could continue reading. "I don't know how things are in your culture, but vare I come from, students don't hold hands with teachers."

"I bet, where you come from, students are too afraid of their teachers as to even be able to care for them rather than their own welfare. And I wasn't _holding hands_ with him.", she snorted, her eyes strictly wandering over the lines she didn't pay attention to.

"You held his hand and he didn't do anything against it but held yours as vell."

"If wanting to cheer a person up is forbidden in Bulgaria,"

"That is not vot I meant."

"Look,", she turned to face him grimly, "Just because we danced together or because you've been watching me many times since you came here, it doesn't mean that I will tell you everything about my life in detail. Yes, I took his hand. I don't know for how long you've been spying on us without our notice and I don't really care as long as you aren't going to spread stories about it."

"I von't – ", Viktor looked seriously appalled.

"Good. Because I don't think I could forgive anyone for that. So, yes, I took his hand and suddenly he apologised for having treated me badly. Want to know when he apologises?", she paused for a second, perhaps for some dramatic effect she actually hadn't fully intended to create. " _Never_. I have been his student for three and a half years and he has never ever apologised for _anything_. And believe me, he's done worse than pinning up mine or anyone's hair."

Shutting the book with as much caution she could bring up in her sudden anger, she took it, placed it in its gap, grabbed her bag and stormed out before Viktor could find any more arguments.

~~#~~


	5. Chapter 4 - Red, Blue and Green

– Chapter 4 –

 **Red, Blue and Green**

Neville had managed to overtrump himself another time. Now, by sending Professor Flitwick on top of a cabinet instead of the cushion he had been supposed to train the Banishing Charm on, into a box. But the distraction was the best they could get to cover their conversation about Harry's strange last-night-meeting. Hermione couldn't fully hide a smile when thinking about how odd it must have looked like to Moody, being the only one who had seen Harry caught in the trick stair. Though then Ron said something that rang a droll bell in her head.

"Oh Ron,", she shook her head, partly hoping it would stop the strange ringing, "We thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?"

Yes, all three of them remembered. But she still hadn't told them who else's lives he had saved. They weren't supposed to know. Not supposed to know anything. And if she had to Banish a hundred cushions perfectly like she did now, to find a way to talk about the topic without giving the information away.

"I don't care what Moody says.", especially not since she had witnessed things that would be far from their understanding. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit – "

"Evil?, Ron cut her off. "Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark-wizard-catchers searching his office then?", he had a right point on this, but she had set herself a task – a rather hard one considering the boys' determination.

"Why has Mr Crouch been pretending to be ill? It's a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?", she snorted, looking after Ron's cushion that hit a window.

"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky."

" _You_ just want to think Snape's up to something.", another cushion of hers went into the box.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one.", Harry argued, his cushion landing on Hermione's.

"Well, then why don't you go and ask him?", she snapped, giving the cushions a wave and they zoomed all at Harry, a bit faster than she had expected.

"Protego!", Harry yelled in panic, making the cushions bump off the shield. "What was that for?"

"Sorry! I just didn't want to get them one by one!", Hermione blushed. "Seems, I am a bit too good already."

"Obsessed, rather.", grunted Harry. "And thanks for teaching me that spell. Anyway, remember what I told you we heard Karkaroff saying to him? There _is_ something he's hiding and it's something big.", so right, but definitely the wrong context, thought Hermione. "And the two being – well, I wouldn't say _friends_ , but – familiar with each other – I mean, that isn't something good in my opinion."

"Why is the word `friends´ so out of personality to you when talking about Snape?"

"Oh I don't know – maybe – because it's him? Probably you missed it, but he's not one of the lovely sort, hanging out with his mates with a cup of tea and cinnamon biscuits and cosy cushions every other night, you know?"

"No, I haven't missed that.", one such cushion was forced back into the box without Hermione looking at it. "But as I say, we were wrong about him. Terribly wrong. He saved your life and that must have a reason.", she hated sticking to that sole example, but what else could she do? "And until we know what exactly the reason is, we should accept that there isn't a flicker in his attitude we are to believe. Honestly – putting your name into the goblet – he might be powerful, but that is a very, very, _very_ powerful object. Whoever manipulated it – "

"You just said it. He might be powerful and we shouldn't believe him. So, what if he is extremely powerful and hides it?", Harry frowned, giving her an utmost bored look.

"Don't twist my words!", she hissed curtly. "And you are in that man's debt!"

"And what do you think, should I do?", Harry chuckled. "It's not like he brings himself in a perilous situation on a daily basis, is it?"

"For instance, give him some trust?", Hermione ignored the second sentence.

"How am I supposed to trust someone who visibly _hates_ me?", Harry grunted. "He's doing anything to punish me! How am I to trust such a man? Honestly, saving my life is no remedy for his constant taunting."

Yes, the wall. The wall called Harry Potter's opinion. Not even a giant size Bludger could destroy it if he wouldn't let it. She knew, that; no matter how hard she tried; Snape would have to save his life a dozen times before Harry would consider probably thinking a tiny bit different about him. Though how could she possibly tell him what she had seen and heard? How could he believe her that she had witnessed, experienced those things? _Remember – speak to no one_. His voice echoed somewhere in her head. She had promised. She had sworn. She wasn't to tell a thing. She wasn't to reveal that Severus Snape had a good side. Biting her lower lip, she sent another cushion through the room.

"Well? Any more arguments?", Hermione didn't answer. "Why are you defending him anyway?"

"I'm not defending him. I just say that Dumbledore seems to have a reason to trust him and Snape has proven that he can do something good. So why by all means don't you drop it? As long as you don't find him strutting through the castle in a Death Eater uniform and screaming ` _Hail the Dark Lord_ ´, I don't think there's any reason to hate him."

"For your information, I heard him calling Voldemort like this,", Harry blinked, but she didn't care. "And he accused me of having set Padfoot free, in front of – "

"Surprise, surprise. He might just have been right with that."

"That's not the point!"

"Then why bringing it up? And for Heaven's sake, don't give him reasons to tease you."

"He teases you as well, Hermione.", Ron noted. "What about that ` _I see no difference_ ´-thing with your teeth? Just one example of loads,"

"I know that wasn't charming and all. But he can't say that again, remember?", she grinned artificially, showing for what seemed to be the hundredth time what Madam Pomfrey had done to her teeth.

"How can you be so ignorant?"

"Because it doesn't matter if you complain about his rudeness. That won't make him stop. I just say, _don't give him a reason_.", the bell rang and Hermione was out before they could come up with another argument.

~~#~~

"Thank you. You may leave those two to us now.", said Professor McGonagall, ashen and looking as though she was close faint.

The twins threw each other a look, but left without any further word. There was actually quite a number of people in McGonagall's office, which was ice cold, even though the fireplace was lit. She was continuously pointing her wand at the flames, her hand shaking terribly. Cho Chang and a little girl with blond hair stood in a corner, giving a quite similar troubled image. Next to them were Madam Maxime and Professor Flitwick, both carrying a serious, but slightly shaken face. Ludo Bagman sat in McGonagall's chair and seemed holding back the urge to vomit. And Igor Karkaroff, his arms crossed, leant against the wall to Hermione's right. He appeared to feel the need to strangle something and his nevertheless emotionless eyes kept flicking at the shiny letter opener on McGonagall's desk.

Just then, she noticed something black on the windowsill. It took her a second look to realise it was Snape. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and stared outside, into the evening sky. Hermione was already trembling from the cold air as well when she found Ron frowning at him. Then the door opened and closed again.

"I am sorry to be late,", the old man sang, "But I got held up by my own chaos. Never mind. So – "

Dumbledore fell silent as he got aware of the very peculiar and tense situation. McGonagall had her eyes shut by then, her lips dangerously disappearing and her hand shaking even more on the flames that reduced with every second.

" _Will you stop it_ _!_ ", she bellowed, struggling for air.

The flames burst up a little and the chandelier lit itself; the cold vanished within moments. McGonagall's hand fell slack to her side. All others sighed with relief. All but Snape and Karkaroff. The latter grunted into space, not losing his expression.

"Does anyone mind telling me what is going on here?", Dumbledore asked and stepped past Ron and Hermione, his eyes knowingly on Snape.

"A childish madness, that is what is going on, Albus!", moaned McGonagall. "I don't even know what kind of problem they've got! They refuse to speak a language we understand!"

"Severus?", a silent pause, but no reaction. "Would _you_ tell me, what this is about?"

"This, is private, Albus.", mumbled Karkaroff.

"Then please take it to a different place and time. None of us is here because we want to deal with your personal issues, I think."

Snape turned, slid off the sill and marched through the room, not deigning anyone a look. Before he could reach the door, Karkaroff grumbled something in the language what Hermione now knew definitely to be Russian. Suddenly there was a black rush. Dumbledore jumped aside in shock. A second later, Karkaroff was pressed against the wall he stood at, unable to breathe. The firm hand on his throat didn't allow him. McGonagall's formerly already big eyes were now widened with horror.

"Severus – ", aspirated Dumbledore.

"Say that again.", Snape snarled.

He waited a moment. A long moment in which Karkaroff's look became dazed. The man was close to pass out. Only then Snape would let go. Clutching his fingers to fists, he stared at his friend who rubbed the area that had suffered from the pressure. He was as poleaxed as everybody else, but slowly his shock transformed to a kind of sad regret and Hermione could have sworn his hair was a little less silvery now, but rather grey.

"Don't tell me – ", Karkaroff whispered, "Still? Is that – you never stopped – ?"

"Something like this, doesn't _stop_ , Igor.", Snape panted as exhausted as though he had run a marathon and his hands sunk down limply. "Never."

Hermione couldn't see his face through his greasy black curtain, but due to his new position, she saw Dumbledore drilling his eyes into either man's head as though he was trying to get in there and find out what was happening inside. Karkaroff took a step forward raised his hand to gently lift Snape's head, the fingers quivering faintly until they reached it. The look with which he examined the younger man's face, it was so woeful, Hermione feared she would start crying any second. But there was also a hint of peculiar uncertainty. Then he slowly laid his arms around Snape and pulled him close, stroking his head and back in a tender way she had never seen anyone do.

"What?", Ron murmured quiet, his face deformed to a worse grimace with every passing second.

"I am sorry.", Karkaroff didn't raise his voice much. "It was tactless of me. I should have known. Please forgive me. I am sorry.", he sighed when the other's hands wandered up his back and a number of deathly pale fingers dug into the golden embroidered white robe.

"What's that – ", whispered Ron. "What're they – "

"Shut up, Ron.", Hermione hissed quietly.

"What?"

"I said, shut up, you immature – "

"Hermione – Snape's – he's – and Karkaroff – what – ", he stammered with gaping eyes.

"Shut up!", she spat at him.

She didn't care. She didn't care that everyone looked at her as though she had just blown away the entire castle. She didn't give a damn. Not knowing why, the fury raced through her whole body and her hands were in fists like Snape's had been. That one's eyes were glistening in the shine of the chandelier. Tears had begun to fill them, but the flow had stopped with her yell. Still in a half embrace with his friend, he blinked at her. She could see it in the corner of her eye: McGonagall held her hand to her chest and Bagman was glued straight against the backrest of her chair.

"Miss Granger?", it was Dumbledore. "Could you tell me please, what upsets you?", her tension fell off and her lips curled, still staring at Ron.

"Yeah.", said the ginger. "It'd be really helpful,"

Meanwhile, the two men had let go of one another and Karkaroff crossed his arms again, twirling his goatee in thoughts – or embarrassment; she was too angry to bother. Snape just eyed him, though his face was directed towards Hermione, who too noticed something like a shimmer returning to Karkaroff's hair, but it could be due to his changed position.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you, Ron. Just show a little bit of humanity."

"Humanity? What's wrong with you?", this time it was him to hiss. "Didn't you see? Snape – "

"Is just a man.", Hermione huffed.

"What?", he briefly shook his head as if he was trying to get that out of it. "Well, tell me that in next Potions lesson, will you? Next time he harasses us – "

"And he's still here.", grunted Hermione. "I won't pity you if he _does_ treat you bad in our next lesson. I won't say, it's your fault. You will hopefully know that yourself."

"If I didn't know better,", Karkaroff whispered, "I would say, you got a gallant."

There was a loud clap, and a strange bright red split-second flash. Again, all eyes shot in one direction. Karkaroff held himself to the wall with the left hand, the right was on his cheek and his eyes were unfocused for several seconds. Hermione could just see Snape's arm sinking. The dark eyes were glaring up to the chandelier, his expression as grim as before.

"Phew! Well, I think, I deserved that one.", chuckled Karkaroff, rubbed his cheek and straightened. "You won; I'm an idiot.", Snape only puffed, visibly gritting his teeth behind his lips.

"Have you got it then?", McGonagall moaned again. "Everyone?", she paused and looked between the two pairs. "Can we do now, what we are supposed to be here for?"

Snape took a deep breath and walked back to the window he had sat at. Hermione wondered how he had gotten up there. The sill was even above his head, as she saw now. But he reached upwards and pulled himself onto it with ease, not even hindered by his floor length cloak. Then he wrapped his arms around his knees like earlier and turned his head to the darkening school grounds, the cloak hanging down like a curtain.

"Very well,", sighed Dumbledore, "Then without you, Severus. Now.", he waved the group in the corner to Ron and Hermione so he wouldn't have to move too much. "You four of course wonder, why you have been summoned here. It does probably sound a little unpleasant at the first mention, but you need not worry. Though I must ask for your word. You are to keep every bit that has occurred in this office to you. Do you understand?", three of them nodded on his serious words, knowing that nobody would believe them anyway if they told, and Hermione risked a quick glance on Karkaroff who struggled between looking up to Snape – or at nothing at all. "Fine. What we are going to do is, let me say it short, drop you in the lake.", he smiled brightly.

"What?", Ron was visibly shocked.

"Like I assumed. Well, as I believe, all four of you have been told the riddle by either of the Champions?", all but the little blonde nodded again. "Good. You are the things they ` _will sorely miss_ ´."

Ron looked at Hermione, obviously understanding faster than he would have expected himself to do. Hermione could almost see the awareness form behind his eyes. His lips however shaped a soundless `Krum?´ and she gave him a smirk in return. `Hang on!´ followed.

"Though as I said, there is not the slightest reason for you to fear. You will be unconscious all the time and only wake up, when your lips meet with the fresh air above the lake, ready to breathe. Tomorrow morning you are asked to have breakfast early and make your way down to the Black Lake an hour before everyone else does. There you will be given the potion that causes the effect and then be brought to the far ground of the lake by our Selkies."

"Excuse me, Sir, but what exactly are Selkies?"

"Merpeople, Ron.", Hermione noted.

"Oh."

"But considering that they're living in a lake, the right – "

"That is right, Miss Granger.", Dumbledore cut her off. "Now Severus, would you mind joining the party again and explain the exact effect of the potion to our – _chosen_?", Hermione had the strange impression that he had closely avoided the use of the word `victims´. "I think, it would be far more pleasant in this cosy office than in the morning by the lake and this way they can sleep over it."

"You could have read it to them from a book. Why needing me.", Snape murmured to the window.

"Because I believe, that you will be able to explain it much better and understandable than any book. Or why else do you think, I sent for you?"

"Oh, I don't know – I thought you maybe wished me to bake biscuits for you in front of everyone,"

"Your sarcasm is no use here,", Dumbledore warned. "Climb off your throne, if you would, please."

"If I must,", he slid off the windowsill once more and walked towards the gathered, now wrapping his chest with his cloak as though he was afraid one of them could see into his heart otherwise. "But of course, I should be used to your favour to tailor everyone to fit your clothes' size."

"Severus,", Dumbledore said with his infamous look over his spectres, but not less grim than the other.

"Very well. The effect,", Snape spoke calm, with his hands in his armpits, "Is not as pleasant as _one_ might think. If any of you has ever experienced the sensation of suffocating with death's claws reaching out for you already and just missing you in the last split-second, you might be able to picture slightly what I am talking about."

Ron and Cho swallowed. Hermione however, hung on every word he said, noticing that he avoided precisely her eyes.

"If not, lucky you, _so far_. But it is necessary to guarantee a thorough breath. The potion is designed to work with one's surrounding, as it is meant to feign death. Should you take it while your nose and mouth are surrounded by air, you will wake when either something is pressed to those holes or you dive into water. Therefore, you will have to temporarily stopper the flask with your thumb and carefully drink it under the surface; and beware to not spit out anything, it has got an – ah, _utmost_ delicious taste. Anyway, seconds later, you will pass out and remain unharmed by any sort of pressure of an average lake's main content. But it becomes dangerous after approximately little more than one and a half hours. That is why the Champions have no more time than sixty minutes to rescue either of their _dear_. Of course they will be granted fifteen minutes of pardon, but after that, the task will be aborted and you will be brought to the surface otherwise, to prevent death of brain – or more functioning parts of your bodies.", Snape glanced at Ron as though he had known what would come.

"We'll have to drink that?", Ron seemed not to have heard the last add in his panic.

"Yes, you will have to _drink_ that, Mr Weasley. Injection has not been applied successfully yet. Believe me, many people died at the try to skirt the _magnificent_ taste of that specific potion, even though it would have asked for only some seconds of endurance."

"Who made it?", Snape rolled his eyes.

"The mother of Edwin the Hunk from Uranus.", he sneered boredly.

"Who's that?", frowned Ron, actually confused, probably due to the overload from the books they had scanned before.

"Can someone slap this with its own entrails, please?"

Hermione couldn't resist a giggle. The grimace Ron gave her; seeming to have woken from his trance then; was mere disgust, just as if she had been the one to have said that.

"Mind your phrasing, Severus. There is a little child present.", Dumbledore warned again.

"First, do I have to remind you that it has been _you_ who said, I may quote, ` _I believe, that you will be able to explain it much better_ ´? And second, this particular girl doesn't understand a thing what I or anyone else here is saying."

By the expression on the girl's face, this could have been the truth. She had just stared around since Hermione had noticed her in the corner, still every now and then throwing an unseen look up at the gigantic Madam Maxime, who had missed each single of them either.

"Didn't anticipate that, did you?"

"Ah, I'm afraid, you may be right. I apologise. But I am certain, Olympe can summarize it for dear Gabrielle la-"

The incredible warmth rising in her face, made her fear she wouldn't need that potion tomorrow, but could be brought safely to the depths of the lake any moment. Dumbledore's, Maxime's and Ron's eyebrows lifted to a stretching point. She didn't know why, but hearing him speak French – or even Russian, sent chills up her spine. Unpleasantly, alarmingly, positive chills. Those languages did something to his already captivating voice, she couldn't fully explain.

She used the time to look around, probably to distract herself. McGonagall and Bagman were the same. Taken aback, the elderly woman meddled with her wand, not noticing the green sparks dripping from its tip and Karkaroff had returned to lean to the wall with his arms half crossed and playing with his goatee, though of course totally unimpressed by the fact that his friend spoke French fluently. The girl Snape talked to, nodded every few sentences and added the one or other word or question. She hadn't thought about it yet, but now Hermione knew that the girl must be Fleur's sister.

"Since when does he speak French?", asked Ron in whispering volume, but Hermione refused to answer. "Hermione? You always know everything. So?"

"How come you think, I always know everything, Ronald?", she hissed back. "But well, if it interests you, _it had happened to have appeared being useful_ , as you see."

"Very charming, Miss Granger, but your grammar is questionable.", he threw in, then continued speaking to Gabrielle Delacour.

"What the – ?", Ron murmured.

"Didn't you hear what Professor Dumbledore said? We aren't to talk about what happens here.", Hermione pouted into the air and crossed her arms. " _My_ grammar. Tz."

"Hermione! We're _still_ _here_! He sure meant that for later!"

"Oh what an insufferable know-it-all you are, Ronald."

She bit her lip when she saw Snape's face in the corner of her eye. Ron hadn't even noticed that the man had stopped speaking another time, both spending the break with annoyed huffing.

"Stop imitating him, you incredible – "

"I _what_! What am I!", her anger now shooting directly at Ron, she presented him with the most furious face she could come up with, and was surprised that she didn't find it all too hard. "Come on, say it!"

"Really, Miss Granger.", said McGonagall. "Keep your private argues to your private rooms."

"I absolutely agree.", Snape added. "It is only a minute or two I ask for, so I can finish explaining to Miss Delacour. Then you can celebrate some happy nighttime without me.", there was some grumbling from the man at the wall. "This goes for you as well, Igor."

Another grumble, but it was ignored. He even apologised to the girl for the inconvenience, Hermione understood. Then everything was just – too complicated French again, and Karkaroff's Russian monologue, due to his friend's indifference. Now even Flitwick, who had remained studying the situation quiet, had pushed his hands into his hips. Snape gave a snort after Gabrielle nodded one last time and turned around. Karkaroff still mumbled, having become louder and clearer at a constant pace. Now it could already be called talking. And as soon as it could, he was drowned by similar, thronging words in the same language.

Ron's eyes nearly fell out. Hermione was close to burst into laughter. It was fascinating, scary and funny at the same time. Slower than perhaps wanted, their conversation actually became one and they finally didn't speak against, but one after the other. Though Karkaroff's beard had turned into an enormous twirl and his eyes were still fixated on the window. There was a final word from him, followed by a tense pause. Then Snape stomped towards him, grabbed him by the collar, dragged him to the door which opened on its own, and literally threw him out. He firmly closed the door and leaned with his back against it, trying not to look at anyone.

Dumbledore chuckled, Bagman and Cho didn't understand the world anymore, McGonagall had dropped her wand to the floor without notice, Flitwick's arms hung slack and Maxime simply gazed down on him, not feeling Gabrielle tugging at her robe in a pointless attempt to find out what was going on this time. Ron was still dangerously close to lose his eyeballs to gravity and Hermione held a hand on her mouth to press back any sign of amusement. The second hand joined it when the door was pushed open with Snape's shoes digging into the floor and Karkaroff threw in a comment before his fingers were almost crushed in the frame as the door was shut by Snape's full weight.

The teacher's face was cold fury and for a second Hermione thought she had heard his teeth chafing. His feet slid slowly over the stone floor again as the door was forced open once more, just enough for more words in Russian to come in. A loud, angry growl and he had turned to swing the door open. Almost everyone winced. Karkaroff didn't even reach the floor when falling inside. Snape had caught him midways and hurtled him back outside.

"Dùin do bheul agus thalla is bheir ort!", he barked at him.

"What?", the other chuckled.

"LEARN GAELIC, FER CRIPE'S SAKE!", the words echoed outside. " _Ge' it up ye!_ "

This time Karkaroff fortunately understood that it meant he had lastly stepped over the line. Seriously scared, he leapt and sped away into the corridor. Snape slammed the door so fiercely that it jumped back open and was crashed shut a second time.

"Blimey,", muttered Ron subdued, "It's like they're married or something,"

"Severus!", McGonagall had gotten to her senses, brandishing her hands wildly. "Stop raping my door!", Hermione nearly choked at her tongue on the use of words.

"I am still fully dressed.", Snape snorted, seemingly in total control of what he had been doing – Hermione wondered whether they had just played that scene and if, _why_.

"Excuse me?", McGonagall blinked.

"Have you seen me pushing down my pants before I leant to it, Minerva?"

"What – "

"Then don't say, I _raped_ your door.", Hermione shortly turned to Dumbledore, just to find him as amused as she was. "And besides, if I should ever feel the need for such a blatantly brutal act, believe me, doors; or any other kind of wooden things; do not belong to my matters of interest. Someone like me does not rape plants, neither living, nor dead.", McGonagall just shook her head in disbelief of the whole.

"Can you two please calm down and behave like adults?", moaned Dumbledore, though not fully losing his smirk.

"I am the calmness in person.", Snape sang, his empty expression still on McGonagall. "You are supposed know better what happens when I should actually lose my mind, Albus."

"Quite certainly.", Dumbledore sighed with his eyebrows disappearing mournfully under his hat and his arms dangling like a bored child's.

"Um – Sir?", Hermione started, partly to change the topic.

"Yes, Miss Gran-?"

"I think, she means me.", Snape interrupted him.

"Do you, Miss – "

"She used a specific, two-letter stammering.", he turned. "If you hear it and I am present, there is a possibility of ninety-nine percent that she means me.", Hermione blushed; Ron pulled a face that was very unpleasant to look at. "Well?"

"Um – "

"There she goes."

"Hey!"

"Hello."

"Sir!"

"Miss."

"Stop it!"

"What is the magic word?"

" _Silence!_ ", everyone but the two winced.

"Quick thinking. But not what I meant.", he sighed after two seconds of such. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Er – where was I – oh my goodness – yes.", she squinted. "Can I have a word with you?"

"I don't know whether you can; because you seem to hang on the edge of ability; but you _may_ , if you deeply desire to have more of them than you already had.", he sneered.

"In – private?", Hermione moaned, feeling that she blushed a little more.

"Why would you want to talk to _me_ in private?", he could push it pretty far, she thought.

"Well, it's about – the potion."

"Which.", Snape replied coldly.

"Which?", Hermione was confused. "Oh – which!", she bit her lip, almost having forgotten that there was another potion they would need to discuss in private. "The one we are supposed to take tomorrow morning."

"Then I see no need for privacy."

"But I do, Sir.", she had no idea how to convince him without sounding stupid, especially due to his current mood. "I'm afraid, I cannot do this."

"Are you incapable of drinking?"

"No,"

"Do you happen to know the potion's compound and believe you are allergic to one of its ingredients?"

"No and no.", slowly, he was frustrating her and she felt some sympathy for McGonagall.

"Allergic to water?"

"No – _what?_ "

"I am sorry, but unless you can come up with any fascinatingly rare phenomenon, I can't understand what might prevent you from doing it.", Hermione snorted.

"That's exactly why I meant ` _in private_ ´.", she hissed through her teeth.

"Is it so hard to enlighten us all, for educational purpose?"

"It's not a _fascinatingly rare phenomenon_ , Sir, but it is serious. _Absolutely_ serious.", if he didn't want to give in, she knew she wasn't to do so either.

"Meaning?", Snape remained expectably unimpressed.

"Does it influence any other liquids than the water of the lake, for example?"

"Which would be?"

"God!", Hermione murmured.

"There is no proof that God is liquid, Miss Granger."

"I – "

"Oh but well, that might explain why people call those all too dry deserts `godforsaken places´,", he blinked into space with a mock-pondering tone.

"Holy canopy,", she puffed.

"Where does that stand? I want to pilgrim – "

"I mean – anything! Any liquid!", muttered Hermione. "Like – I don't know – saliva!"

"Is your saliva so environmentally hazardous that you fear, you might contaminate the lake, if you unconsciously dribble into the water?"

" _NO!_ ", that had escaped _just_ a little louder than she had wished.

"No, _Sir_ , for you.", Hermione panted heavily at his angry look, her own rage becoming despair.

"I – ", she mumbled, "I'm in my strawberry week."

Snape only rolled his eyes and huffed. Hermione turned as red as what she had circumscribed. And right when she believed the situation couldn't get worse, the universe struck in shape of a ginger boy.

"What strawberries?", asked Ron, insanely curious.

"See? _That's_ why I meant, private – _Sir_.", perhaps only to cheer herself up, she gave Snape a faint smirk.

"What the bloody hell's a strawberry week?"

"Exactly that, Weasley. Yet for at least three thousand years, women have found a very small, handy solution for that.", it somewhat calmed her that he finally was getting serious, even a bit caring.

"I – never – used – I can't – "

"Well, you should learn it until tomorrow morning, or you will have to come up with another person, Mr Krum puts at least a little value in. After all, the Selkies cannot bind his _broomstick_ to an underwater pillar.", Snape sighed, managing to make her chuckle; by the strange flicker in his eyes she knew that he could just as much have meant – "It can't be too difficult. You could, for example, ask Miss Chang here. Maybe she can help you out.", Hermione had nearly forgotten the girl was there too.

"I – don't use them either.", Cho whispered her first words of the evening.

"Then – what about Miss Weasley? As far as I am aware, you are good friends with her?"

"Her Red Baron hasn't landed yet.", Snape scratched his neck, causing a nerve in Hermione's brain to twitch.

"There are – how many girls in your dormitory, Miss Granger? You cannot tell me that neither of them has experience with – "

"I don't know."

"Then you'd better ask them _tonight_ , or you'd have to improvise."

"Improvise?"

"A cloth filled and sewn together with wool – a sea sponge and a string – an unboned, toothless mouse – be creative!", Snape moaned. "It can't be that hard, can it?"

"Oh Severus, you have no idea how hard that can be. I am glad that this ended fifteen years ago for me.", McGonagall threw in. "Though the flushings are horror.", she added subdued.

"Strawberry week! Blimey! Now I get it!", Ron chuckled.

"Very subtle, Mr Weasley."

"Sorry Ma'am."

"Now then, Miss Granger, either you find someone else to your assistance, but unless you pay me one thousand Galleons, I am sorry to disappoint you. I will not go and buy you tampons."

"Oh why not, Severus.", Dumbledore smirked. "I imagine that to be utmost interesting."

"Ah, we have a volunteer!", Snape sang, his flat hands in the air.

"Rather not. Just picture _me_ buying tampons. Rather you, then."

"What does _that_ mean.", he glared at him, arms dropped.

"It means, what it means.", smiled the old man and winked.

"That's – not – ", he slowly shook his head with his left index finger raised only as he muttered, "That is completely off topic and not nearly – "

"Or do you think, anyone would believe I was going to buy them for a granddaughter?", the old man ignored him.

"More likely than _me_ , buying them for the daughter I never had.", huffed Snape and Hermione could see him swallowing, in spite of his high buttoned collar.

"I see, it is set. You will have to confess, should it be in question, that you buy them for your student. If you insist, I might give you one thousand Galleons even."

"I wun' go buyin' tampons!", Snape raged and nearly everyone jumped back from him.

"Oops, that was a nerve,", the Headmaster snickered under his breath.

"Every store is closed anyway. And _if_ Miss Granger here or you should have a thousand Galleons, I don't trust any of those Muggle petrol station stores."

"Ah? But you know where to get tampons at such a time? Great!"

"I said, I won't – "

"I think, I'll just ask – the stalker.", Hermione curled her lips.

"Then make sure to tell her that I changed to pyjamas.", Snape mumbled. "It could help both of us. And they are blue. Pardon, Oxford blue. I don't want her to picture me in Majorelle or Tiffany – or Cyan even – "

"Then rather Fay."

"Thank you for not helping me."

"Alright!", she moaned. "I _might_ think about it."

"Whatever. Don't take too long or you _might_ have to sneak out for finding her. I cannot guarantee that she will be the only one to cost Gryffindor points."

"I could ask Marietta if she uses them,", Cho remembered to have a best friend.

"No need. I decided. I will ask Fay."

"Thank you,", sighed Snape.

" _Vengeance is very sweet_ , Professor."

"Pardon me, Miss Granger?"

"Oh no, not at all.", Hermione's sudden determination made her grow about two inches. "When I asked for privacy, you refused. Don't expect me to shield you, Sir."

"Hermione?"

It was Ron again, but she didn't care. All she could do was turn under Snape's bewildered look and storm out of the office.

The corridor was dark and cold already. Not even the torches lit when she passed them, towards the staircase to the basement. It was not until she reached it and a hand grabbed her left upper arm, that she noticed she had been followed. With a shriek, she spun and found herself only little more than a hand broad away from him. Even though it was new moon and no fire burning, his face was pale enough she could see it clear in the darkness. His grip loosened, but his hand remained in place.

"I'm sorry.", he whispered softly, Hermione just frowned. "I – didn't mean to – expose you – "

"The harm is done, Sir.", she huffed. "And even if you should be honest, I don't like Parvati enough to ask her about tampons. After all, she's stalking me as well, because of you."

Snape nodded, absent minded and sad. She felt a little ashamed to see him like this, blinking to the dark floor to his left in thoughts. A sudden urge to lay her arms around him, just to hold him close for a moment overcame her, but she forced herself to resist. She just couldn't do that again. It was Snape. Not one of her friends, not even a teacher she liked. If something, she felt sympa–

"Come with me."

"Sorry?"

"I think, I know who could help properly and be discreet enough not to talk about it."

Before Hermione knew what was going on, she was already pulled through dark corridors by the wrist. Corridors, which she knew the torches always lighted up in when someone drew near at night. Was he preventing it so nobody who came along would see them? That would explain why she had had to walk downstairs without light. Not able to make out where exactly they were going, she let herself be dragged with literal blind faith.

Endless dark and quiet minutes later, they finally arrived at some door. The first light, apart from the few stars that had shimmered through the one or other window: it was a thin orange line at the bottom of the door. Three quick knocks.

"Yes?", the voice of a woman could be heard through the door.

"It is me."

"Oh – come in, Severus. It's open."

He pushed down the handle and Hermione had to blink several times so she could see in the dramatic change of brightness, although it was only a fire in the unusually small chimney to her left and a lamp on a desk. She had never been to that office. It was small as well, but cosy, with all sorts of knitted and crocheted tablecloths on shelves and three crammed tables inside. There were pots with green plants on the windowsill facing the door and everywhere between piles and rows of books and other things like vases with – plastic flowers, or objects she knew that only Muggles would keep, or at best, throw away. If Arthur Weasley had been a woman, this would definitely have been his asylum, Hermione thought.

"Good evening, Charity."

"Hey. To what do I owe the – ", the blond woman sitting at the desk to their left took off her reading specs, smiling, when Snape closed the door behind, letting go of Hermione's wrist at last. "Oh – Hermione – what a nice surprise! A very good evening to you as well!"

"Good evening, Professor Burbage.", Hermione aspirated with a smirk.

"What can I do for you?"

"Our Miss Granger here has a little, very intimate problem. But I believe, it is better if I left it to her to explain it again. It should be a lot easier now."

"Alright. Hermione, you can sit down, if you like to.", Professor Burbage waved to the sofa at the other side of the narrow room. "I'll be there in a minute.", she put back on her glasses and briefly scanned the papers she had been working on.

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione shuffled over the soft carpet and sat down, sinking in quite deep and noticing a second door between the entrance and the sofa when she clutched the side rest with a surprised gasp. Snape had literally glided towards Burbage and had a look at the papers as well. From her position, Hermione could just see how his lips stood a wee bit open in thoughts as his dark eyes gazed down at the writing, hollow tunnels into depths of which she knew she had managed to only scratch the surface, a surface that was desperately repaired by him with words and looks and –

"Honestly?", a chuckle escaped him.

Hermione's eyebrows wandered up. It had been a chuckle unlike any others – it wasn't disappointment or pity, but amused disbelief.

"`` _Injecting energy into a capsule´´_? And `` _as soon as it is inserted, the objects suck the energy much like a plant would drink water´´_? What an extremely romantic description, but it won't get her a Nobel Prize, let alone an intelligent boyfriend."

"But you must admit, in basics, that's how it works."

"If one demands the very lowest standards of understanding – "

"Severus. She probably never even held a battery in hand before I showed them how to put it into an alarm clock. Oh don't give me that look. I tricked them with a bit of wandless, nonverbal fun."

"What a foul woman you are,", he lightly shook his head, though his expression remained empty. "Anything for the sight of their faces when they desperately try to get battery-powered alarm clocks to work here. Blessed be the good old times when Time-Turners had the size of an elephant and worked with steam. Best results around teenage girls."

"A teensy-weensy bit sexist, aren't we?", Burbage snickered up to him and he sighed deeply, looking through the closed window into the night.

"But solely a very tiny teensy-weensy wee bit."

"What did he do again?"

"Who?", his head jerked back at her.

"Your Russian Short-Snout."

"Nothing he hadn't ever done before.", Snape huffed, turned and sat himself onto the edge of her desk beside her papers, his hands placed on the little free space with some difficulty.

"He needs a dog.", that cost him a chuckle again and his head sunk so deep to his chest Hermione couldn't see his lips anymore, but he closed his eyes, maybe from exhaustion or in order to shield them from her as he had realised she was still there.

"He has found it in me."

"Of course much to your discomfort.", Burbage clearly winked with her left eye, which Hermione found rather useless – or had it secretly been meant as a hint for her?

"You're right.", he lifted his head, but only glared at the corner to Hermione's left. "It wouldn't bother me at all, if he hadn't acted out a fair range of his personality in front of a Half-Giant, two of our colleagues, a bewildered French girl, three students, a lunatic Ex-Quidditch-Player and – one of his kind.", Snape sighed again.

"And of course you were able to resist jumping on the bandwagon."

"He drew in his horns when he had to discover that dog was a Hebridean Black covered with fur."

"Oh goodness – and Albus didn't throw either of you out, I guess?"

"I was surprised, actually.", Snape frowned. "Perhaps he fancies drama queens, I don't know. I never asked for his type. But well, now that I think about it, it appears logical. After all he likes watching war films, accompanied with chamber music.", Hermione unintentionally gulped and blinked heavily.

"Now come on. Don't bare the good old man that much.", Burbage laughed; and what a bright laugh it was, Hermione thought – the blond waves, the laugh – it was completely contrary to Snape's greasy curtains and hollow frustration. "Especially in front of a student. Okay – er – is there anything else you need, or do you want to stay while I try to solve whatever matter troubles Hermione?"

"Er – "

"Oh, did you know by the way that an otter family settled down at the lake?"

"Where.", his eyes zoomed at her.

"Not far from your nest, actually. Spotted an exit in the near and there were some tracks. So I crept up and guess, I saw them!", her excitement couldn't have been more obvious. "Goodness, you can't imagine how cute they are!"

"Interesting.", was all that Snape said on it, rather unimpressed, but Hermione did indeed find it interesting.

"If I could only tame an otter. I'd love to have one as a pet."

"How is the hyacinth doing?"

"Fantastic!", Burbage sang and nodded to a certain pot.

"Ah yes, now I see it.", a frail smile drifted over his lips, he slid off the desk and paced past her, to the well growing blue flower on a crooked table to Hermione's right.

"At last. I think, I will just tell Pomona it died and pray she doesn't enter my office.", Burbage's laughing faded into giggling and she packed her papers to a pile and placed the glasses on top.

"Certainly, you should do that.", his hair slightly slid into his face when he studied the plant in every detail, though didn't touch it. "In-indeed – wonderful – "

Snape straightened, but didn't take his eyes off the hyacinth. Hermione could see parts of his face again. It was as mournful and in thoughts as it had been out in the dark. Slowly, he lifted his left hand, shook back the sleeve of his cloak and very careful brushed the tips of his fingers against the thick, needle-like leaves and, even more cautious, a number of blooms. He bent down once more and inhaled the smell through his nose only, his eyes closing. Hermione bit her lower lip with sadness.

"Sir?", Snape raised another time and gazed at her, his hand pulled back. "Do you – um – do you miss the florist's?", his lips standing ajar, he only blinked at the hyacinth, turned and walked for the door. "I'm sorry – ", Hermione stopped him with his hand on the handle. "I'm really sorry – "

"No need.", he said to the door. "It is only natural, that you ask. Good night, Miss Granger, Charity,"

"G'night, Severus.", the woman sighed.

"Goodnight, Sir.", he already almost closed the door without turning back. "Thank you – ", and it was shut. "For the help.", Hermione sighed and looked back at the hyacinth, just in time for seeing a single flower fall into the pot.

"I think, he does miss that job.", Professor Burbage stood up and joined Hermione on the sofa, making it sink in further.

"You know?"

"Well, of course! Of course I know that we share some devotion – this is a Hyacinthus Litwinowii Immortalis, by the way. Severus and I have been friends for a couple of years already when I applied for my post here for the first time. He started his fifth year when I came to Hogwarts."

"You were in Slytherin?"

"Oh, no. I was in Hufflepuff."

"Er – but – could you – "

"How we could possibly have become friends? Well, through our Potions teacher of course. I was absolutely miserable and he must have mentioned me in front of Severus. One day Severus came to me and offered me his help."

"He did _what_?"

"Not the kind of thing, you would expect him to do, right? But you'd be surprised. He's been much more of a brother for me than my real ones. But – oh well, that's actually not such a big achievement, if I think about it. Anyone could be a – better – uhm – after school he had also managed to find me a job at a bookshop in Friscot Street in Cardiff and had made sure that I would get the post here after Professor Quirrell decided that thirteen years had been enough in the subject – and went for – dying – never mind.", as quickly as Snape had left, she pulled herself out of her woe. "I worked in that shop with Alondra Moody who was stationed undercover at that time."

"Alondra Moody?"

"I didn't expect you to know her.", sighed Professor Burbage. "She was as secretive as her twin-brother. They didn't even look like relatives, but in character and speaking, they were completely the same. Unfortunately the good died in a sky battle some days before You-Know-Who's downfall.", Hermione was taken aback. "However, you should be careful with mentioning that job he took on in Germany. I don't know, but somehow, he ever since tended to make a rather wide berth around still growing plants that weren't trees – or grass – now.", Burbage crossed her legs with a quickly put up smile, dismissing her considerations´at last. "What exactly is it that you need?"

~~#~~


	6. Chapter 5 - Butter up the mice

– Chapter 5 –

 **Butter up the mice**

"He said he's worried?"

"Actually, the word Harry used was `agitated´, but yes."

"And Snuffles has no idea?"

"I don't believe that, to be honest."

"And I don't believe hat you're even doing homework on your bed.", Ginny sighed, gazing out of the window by which she sat comfortably crouched, up on the sill.

"Haven't you got any homework?"

"Well, not everyone does thrice as much as necessary,"

"Funny.", huffed Hermione.

"Yeah. Really funny. He must truly be worried. Otherwise he wouldn't meditate."

"What?", her head jerked up and she nearly dropped her inked quill.

"Karkaroff. I can see the ship from here,"

"What?", Hermione yelped again and actually dropped her things now, even kicking the ink bottle which luckily only ruined the bedding, not her papers.

"Tz.", Ginny chuckled when Hermione carelessly hurried over to Parvati's trunk.

"I'll clean that later."

"What the – oh right, I still have your Omnis. Sor– "

"I don't think she'll scan it for my fingerprints. Or at least I hope she doesn't.", Hermione had rushed over to the window and adjusted the wheels to see what Ginny had meant. "How – ", she took a glance across the binoculars, "How by all means can you see him up there?", and looked through again.

"Well, the ship's all wood. Brown deck and all, and he's practically a snowman up there. Yet possibly the skinniest snowman I've ever seen."

"Drop your sarcasm."

"I wasn't sarcastic at all,", Ginny meant, not changing her tone however. "What's he look like? Can't see all details – "

"He – oh my god – ", she had finally found him.

"Yes?"

"Er – skinny – ", Hermione breathed, which made her friend laugh. "There's nothing funny about that, he's naked!"

"Are you shitting me?", Ginny laughed again and tore the object from her hands.

"Hey!"

"Blimey! He is! He's completely starkers! Wait – maybe we'll – yeah – you can adjust them separately – come here."

Somehow they managed to share the binoculars, each a side, their cheeks pressed together. Hermione could feel her chin drop along with Ginny's. Karkaroff sat on the top deck, in tailor fashion and it really looked like he was meditating. But that he did it naked, totally confused her. Let alone that it was a windy, cloudy day and the ship swayed in the waves on the lake. They could even feel the cold crawling in again, through a window on he other side of the round dormitory they had opened for some fresh air.

"You mind?"

"What?"

"I think I saw something. With my other eye, I mean."

"Okay.", she let her head be dragged along as Ginny turned hers.

"No way – is that – ?"

"Snape – ", Hermione aspirated.

"What's he – "

They followed the black figure that carried a strange heap of scarlet fabric over the deck, pacing gently as though he meant to startle the other any moment. And indeed, when he had reached him from behind, he unceremoniously dropped the heap on Karkaroff's head. Amusingly, the wind was in the girls' favour – or not. The high pitched shriek could be heard through the open window, even up where they were and it sounded far from a man's panic reaction. Frowning with one eye, Hermione thought he had sounded almost like –

"Golly! I already thought Parvati'd come in!", Ginny voiced Hermione's thought. "He screams like a girl!"

"He's – acting – like a girl too – "

The way Karkaroff had winced, panicky collected the things from his head and then nearly fallen over when having attempted to turn for seeing who was towering him, looked much like a girl, embarrassed to have been caught doing something very private – or Ron, if woken harshly. Only that Ron wouldn't shriek _as_ pitched. Meanwhile Karkaroff had jumped to his bare feet, somehow trying to cover the front of his pale body with the fabric, but Snape's lush posture and expression signalised that he didn't bother much, or rather, was annoyed by the other's attitude. Hermione could see his mouth move.

"What?", Ginny chuckled again.

"Huh?"

"Why would he know – "

"Ginny?"

"He said `Don't act as though I might have forgotten what you look like´."

"Wait – no way! You can read lips?", Hermione moaned.

"It's got some benefits if you get what Fred and George are up to before Mum does. Better have the chance to decide whether you'd rather flee while you can or stay for the sensation. He really knows him that well? To know what he looks like naked?"

"I – I'm actually not supposed to – ", Hermione regretted it the moment she had forgotten to lie quickly. "Please don't tell anyone. They'd lived together. I mean, when they met, Karkaroff stayed to live with him and his mother. Somewhere in the north of Germany. Long time ago."

"And how come you know?", Ginny snickered while Karkaroff put on the scarlet fabric, which turned out to be some sort of silken pyjamas.

"Long story. What're they saying?"

"No idea."

"Didn't you just – "

"Can't understand that. Dunno what language that is, but it's not English anymore. Could be Russian or so."

"That'd fit.", Hermione sighed, feeling Ginny meddling with a wheel.

"Bloody Ice Mice! Where did she get those binoculars from! I can count his freckles!"

"Zoom back out. Snape's leaving."

"Oh."

"He's – no – he's barefoot too! Okay, wearing socks; but that's why he didn't hear him – "

"Why does he stop –

"Karkaroff stopped him. He said `wait´. Goodness, he's insanely shy!"

"Yes."

Hermione agreed, but felt sort of dirty, spying on them like that – as if she was Parvati herself. They could see Snape's eager, though also a little confused gaze, as he hadn't fully turned back and, fumbling around with his own fingers before his stomach, Karkaroff slowly approached him, his head lowered, until he was very close. Only then he would look up. Blinking heavily from obvious embarrassment, he resembled much a sad puppy. Then, quicker than a fly, he printed the hint of a kiss on Snape's right cheek.

To her relief, Ginny didn't comment it in the slightest. For a while, Snape only eyed him, the same sadness on his face, only without a flicker of Karkaroff's shyness. Yet hesitantly, he turned the remaining inches, his breath steady. Hermione could see his chest hovering as if she stood just some feet by their side, slightly above. Gently, Snape lifted his hands and detangled Karkaroff's fingers, which brought back the blinking. Especially when Karkaroff found Snape's left hand on his right shoulder. Her insides collapsed like a card house when he shortly retrieved his hand for leading Karkaroff's onto his back.

The smile that appeared above the twirled silver goatee was still awkward, but clearly nostalgic. Only then Hermione noticed that they were exactly the same in height. She had never really cared about it, but now that she had discovered that, she knew Karkaroff preferred much higher heels than Snape. Why some part of her brain considered it important now, she didn't know, and she decided to better dismiss it as well.

It had been right in that room. Only months ago. But now that she watched them, dancing slowly, almost to the ship's swaying, it felt to her as though it had been just last night that she had tricked him into such a situation.

"You didn't lie.", Ginny whispered when their dance became steadier as well as faster. "He really is a marvellous dancer. Accepts those spins like he did it every day. According to what I've heard, not all men can cope with the female part,"

"Practically none, Mum wrote in a letter that laid along with the dress. She meant I shouldn't dare to try leading when my partner can't. That'd make them so ashamed of themselves that they might end up committing suicide."

"'S your Mum got a liking for exaggerations?"

"A little."

"So that's where you got that from."

"Hey!", Hermione hissed. "I'm not – "

"Sure. I think, they had enough."

"I can see that."

"I better get going now.", Ginny meant, left the binoculars to Hermione and slid off the sill, which forced Hermione to do a step backwards and neglect the view.

"Where?", her look followed the ginger to he door.

"Promised Luna to feed crows with her.", she answered when she pressed down the handle.

"Feed crows?", Hermione frowned.

"Yeah.", Ginny smiled casually. "See you."

"Bye."

When the door was shut, it took her a while to gather back her senses. And though she felt bad about it, she took another glance through the binoculars, finding the men almost separated. Only Snape's hand laid on Karkaroff's visibly flushed left cheek, which was caringly patted twice. Then he stepped back, turned, and left at last. Curling her lips, Hermione moved the wheels back into heir original position and slouched over to Parvati's trunk. That one's order was restored and her shoulders dropped on the awareness of the horrible mess she had caused on her own bedding. Even angrier with herself now, she went for her wand.

~~#~~

And again. Not enough that Rita Skeeter's article in Potions class had cost Gryffindor twenty points, that Harry had actually faked an accident to hear what Karkaroff had been waiting behind Snape's desk for, was still too much for her. Even though she had received hate letters. And dangerous ones! Even though Harry and Ron were trying to tell her that these letters would stop coming if she continued ignoring them. Even though she had snuck out at nights for similar reasons. Even though – _everything_.

"Which arm did he show, by the way?", Ron asked, finally seeming to have forgotten all the strange things that had occurred on the evening before the second task.

"His left.", Harry grumbled.

"Well, that proves a lot, Hermione. I've sent a quick note to Dad too the other day and it returned last night. Pig woke up the whole dormitory!", he chuckled, but Hermione only huffed and Harry looked away, visibly troubled whether he should risk a glance at a certain person at the staff table. "Oh well, anyway, Dad meant that the Dark Mark's always on the left forearm. So – "

"That proves only that Karkaroff wears the Dark Mark.", Hermione said stern, noticing Harry's unconsciously flicking eyes. "Snuffles visibly lied to us. He knows what it means. He knows as much as your Dad does. Yes, Karkaroff obviously has the Mark on. And it also proves that Snape knows about it. But it doesn't prove _anything_ else, apart from – ", she swallowed and continued hushed, "You-Know-Who getting stronger."

"But why would he tell Snape about it?"

"Oh, I don't know? _Maybe they're married?_ ", the moment it had slipped her, she regretted it.

"Oh my – I thought you hadn't caught that bit,"

"Surprise, surprise. I have ears."

"Yeah, but now that you say it – ", he lowered his voice even more, giving his left and right a quick check of his eyes only as he leant further forward, "They _could_ be. The way they acted there – seems a bit – off – not?"

"Now listen to yourself.", her eyes drilled back.

"Well, I do. I mean, what do we really know about Snape? And the way Karkaroff's acting around him all the time – and in general – you have to admit, he _does_ seem a bit gay,"

"And how do you come to that fascinating conclusion?", Hermione countered with a bored stare.

"Always dolled up fancy to the nine, the clattering high heels, peacocky strutting, the snooty behaviour, the exaggerating pronunciation – to list a f– "

" _Exaggerating pronunciation_? He's a Russian!", she hissed as low as she could. "They do that! And they do _dress fancy_ at any given opportunity, if their budget allows!"

"How d' _you_ know about Russians?", Ron frowned.

"I've seen enough of them on TV."

"Where?"

"Television?", he still looked confused. "The goggle-box?"

"Oh you mean – _that_ thing! That's showing glowing pictures!"

"Yes, _that_ thing.", she huffed. "And as Headmaster of a renowned school, I believe he earns enough to show off his best wardrobe during an international event. And he may be arrogant, but that – "

"Doesn't explain why he's constantly scurrying around Snape like a dog in season! And Snape may be trying to avoid him publicly, but they're on more terms than just that first-name-one. In case you're interested in my inquiries, I've – "

"If you'd done any inquiries, those should have gained you the knowledge that they can't be married. It's not allowed."

"Would really stop them, would it? The law.", he grunted.

"Ron!"

"I bet you anything, if they're really not because of just that, they'll be as soon as it's through."

" _Ron!_ "

"What! I'm – "

"Getting far off the track! Look – Karkaroff's said to have been cleared of all charges in a last hearing before he was set free. I have done research on that. Maybe he just wants to send out a warning?", Hermione said, somewhat calm again. "Desperately? Snuffles meant that too. And you stated yourself, Harry,", that tore him so rapidly back into the conversation that his neck cracked upon the jerk, "That Karkaroff looked extremely concerned. He's really worried about it. He fears You-Know-Who's return. What kind of true Death Eater would do that and tell it another Death Eater?", she shook her head. "Harry, whatever you try to achieve, you will receive nothing but trouble. So stop trying to make Fay's hair vanish by blinking at it. Their business is none of ours. What we are to find out is, how Rita Skeeter gets her information. Because, if there was some scandal behind Karkaroff and Snape, I bet she would know first. Given that she doesn't write a thing about them, there isn't a thing to write."

"Or they're just too good at keeping secrets,", Ron added.

"That as well.", she sighed, looking at Hedwig gliding down to them.

"And shove Skeeter aside, will you? It's Easter. You tell me to ignore Snape and give him no reasons to torture me, but you refuse to shut up in front of that hag. Honestly, Hermione – that's pretty much the same story, only that the beast is female."

"It's not the same, Harry."

"And how!"

"No.", her lips curled, holding up the much smaller egg she had received from Ron's mother.

~~#~~

"You should not vorry about this."

What an easy line to say. After all he hadn't gotten a _tiny_ Easter Egg from a woman that had liked her a lot before Rita Skeeter had decided to make Hermione a new source of income. He wasn't receiving hate letters – or was he? At least, how ever that beast was getting her information, now she wouldn't catch up any. Viktor had performed some charms around the area of the shore they were sitting at. No one could walk into the shields or would get to know what was going on inside. It were charms similar to those that laid on Hogwarts, only not as powerful and – within Hogwarts' bans.

The sun shone on their heads as they sat on the trunk of a dead tree. It was warm enough already, so they had taken off their coats.

"It's my problem, isn't it?", Hermione sighed, gazing over into the deep water shortly at the steep falling edge of the shore.

"It is mine as vell.", her head turned to him. "It bothers me to see you vorried.", a hand was laid on hers that rested on her thigh and she looked down on it. "Uh – I am sorry."

He wanted to pull it back, but, not knowing why, she somehow instinctively clapped her second hand on it, blushing when she realised. His fingers closed around hers and she looked back up, to find his face only some inches away from hers. Suddenly, the distance was gone. Hermione blushed even more at the touch. It was warm, soft, and a little bit wet – and she knew immediately that he had experience. Fear that he would notice she hadn't, made her unable to fully enjoy it. But the more stupid she felt about her clumsiness, the more he seemed to like that fact. Though the top of the whole situation was something neither would have guessed.

It was the sound of voices drawing near which made him pull apart, both of them slightly alarmed. Only, rather than footsteps, it was water that was being moved. The two were – swimming! About ten yards away from what Hermione knew Viktor's barrier reached, a wet black and white head were gliding over the surface, supported on pale shoulders each and moved by similar pale arms. Even Hermione had some problems to catch up with the awful, heavy Scottish-kind-of accent of the younger one, which she had never heard on him before in only the slightest way. Well, apart from his little outburst in McGonagall's office, if she thought closely. But her advantage over Viktor was probably that she was used to Hagrid's way of speaking, which wasn't anywhere near that incredibly fast verbal disaster, yet horrible enough sometimes.

"Ye're such a castle."

"Excuse me?"

"Sittin' in tha corner o' tha board, watchin' tha game go by wit' amusemen'."

"Ah yes, but I must confess, it indeed amuses me how little control you appear to have regarding the one or other matter, and that it is merely a young girl, who manages to set your teeth on edge."

"She's very consisten'. I already 'ad ter alter 'er memory four times, bu' nevertheless she lurks 'roun' seemin'ly ev'ry corner I pass. 'T's even _worse_ than wit' Skeeter – if we're ter bracke' ou' tha fac' tha' tha girl doesn' write fer tha _Prophe'_."

"I see. Though you must understand that it would be better for her mind if you found other ways to keep her at bay.", Dumbledore spoke as calm as if he was sitting leisurely in a chair, surprising the newly minted somewhat-couple at the shore with that stamina at his age.

"Believe me, I do me bes'. She's a nasty leech! As if she knew tha' I was fiddlin' wit' 'er brain! I slowly begin ter wonder whether I unlearned ter do it righ'."

"I would say, you fail to eliminate the source of her incentive."

"S'ppose so.", Snape grunted and turned sharp left, swimming directly towards the border of the barrier; which was still on the grassy shore; to the completely straight falling recess and crossed his arms up on the grass that was shortly above the surface. "Bu' tryin' ter do tha', I believe ye know, would implicate fatal damage. In 'is case it'd be better fer both o' us if I killed 'er righ' away, as 'orrible as 'is may sound ter ye."

"What can I say, she is a teenager.", sang Dumbledore and joined him at his left, leaning onto the shore in the same manner. "May I recall how nosy you used to be?", he winked.

"Oh wha' a wonderful comparison.", Snape huffed and looked away. "If ye migh' recall as well, I din' stalk me teachers."

"Ah of course not.", Dumbledore smiled broadly, his eyes closed.

"Wha's 'is s'pposed ter mean?", Snape's head turned back to him.

"Oh nothing. I see no sense in arguing on things we both know."

"Fine,", he snapped and pulled himself into a sitting position on the shore with ease, his lower legs dangling into the water, facing the lake.

The first Hermione spotted – after the fact that he was completely naked, what made her eyes widen already – were a fair number of long crisscrossed scars all over his back, looking like he had been scourged some time in the past. But who would – the memory of a certain night mingled with her thoughts. _Don't tell me what they would have done, Igor!_ _Because, I, know!_ Could it actually be that _they_ had done it to him? That he had been physically tortured in his hearing? Would the Ministry have gone as far with suspected Death Eaters? Would they – still make use of such methods? Or had it only been Crouch's madness? Hermione's stomach convulsed.

"Bu' tell me, 'ow can ye remain so calm? I jus' spoke 'bou' killin' a studen'?"

"Severus.", Dumbledore said softly. "I know very well that you didn't mean it."

"Bu' wha' if? Jus' imagine."

"I will not imagine, because I know you. Yes, I am certain that you killed many people, but I know your reasons, Severus.", Hermione could see Viktor's shocked face in the corner of her eye and knew she didn't look much different. "Alastor Moody has killed many as well, but he is one of the good. He fights for the right thing.", now Dumbledore climbed out as well and laid himself flat on his back, his long wet hair and beard not really able to cover –

"Tha _righ'_ thing.", Snape huffed. "Ye say."

"Severus. That All Hallows' Day morning, I have seen your true self. You are not a bad person. Not all too lovely sometimes, but not bad either. You are just as much human as I am."

"Comparin' tha two o' us's a lil bi' impertinen', dun' ye think?"

"Maybe, yes.", Dumbledore crossed his arms under his head and gazed into the sky. "Let us not speak about it anymore."

"Yes. 'Specially, since we're no' alone."

"Not – Severus?", momentarily, Dumbledore sat straight and looked around.

"Be'in' us.", Hermione was tomato-red and Viktor as pale as Mozzarella, but Dumbledore apparently couldn't see the human salad on the trunk. "There's a magical barrier. Someone's buil' up a shield an' intruder protection. It surprises me tha' ye 'aven' fel' it earlier, Albus. _Ye_. Normally so sensory."

"Indeed, yes!", the Headmaster aspirated hollow, still searching the air with his eyes as blue as the sky above.

"Well, Mr Krum,", his pronunciation was almost back at what they were used to, "Next time you should let Miss Granger put up those spells. Though being three years younger, she is a lot more able than you."

"Severus – ", Dumbledore chuckled as the shields fell down and the two came in sight, Viktor frowning and Hermione moaning horrifically, despite no sound coming from her mouth.

"Oh how wonderful the sky is today.", Snape placed his hands in the grass and leaned onto them, tilting his head back to marvel at the blue above him. " _Just – beautiful_.", Hermione's heart sank at the sound of his dreamily high pitched voice and the choice of words – _how?_

"How did you know it is us, Sir?", Viktor murmured. "Vot gave us avay?"

"Rather, what gave _you_ away.", Snape corrected him. "Your spells got weak the moment you started behaving like two slugs on a one-slug-broad crossing and I could see you in a blurred, flickering haze. So, I might just take back my words and admit; considering that it was her first; Miss Granger possibly would have shown the same lack.", he granted them a short pause, "Oh – my bad, I am sorry! So terribly sorry! I didn't mean at all to spoil it!", he added with a snort, took a very deep breath, slid into the water and dived away, leaving no sign to spot.

"Miss Granger?", Dumbledore addressed her, concerned about the rapid change in her expression.

"Hermy-own-ninny?", though her gaze was empty and utterly drained and her face directed straight forward, not seeing anything in front of her eyes anymore.

"I think, I should be going now.", she meant curtly and stood up, turning away to the trees once she had grabbed her things.

"Miss Granger – I apologise for his rudeness."

"It wasn't rude.", Hermione sighed when walking off. " _Not_ _at all_."

~~#~~

As charming and sweet as she found it, slowly it was getting on her nerves. At least this way Harry and Ron finally did their homework on their own; or so she hoped; but the constant stare was a little annoying anyhow. His right elbow on the desk-board in front of the shelf, he more hung than leant, taking in half the space she would have needed. But she couldn't just tell him to move a few feet into the room, could she? With a sigh, she glanced out of the window to her left. The sky was bright blue and it was hard to concentrate, thinking of the green grass and the flowers and the singing birds and –

"Vot is on your mind, honey?"

"What?", she startled up.

"I asked, vot – "

"Oh – just an ingredient I couldn't recall. But it's back.", she lied and wrote down the name of the plant when someone passed their row, not meaning to hurry in the slightest.

"Vot was it?", Viktor tried to get a glimpse on her paper.

"Oh hi!", their heads rushed at the girl who had stopped and greeted them.

"Hey.", Hermione smiled.

"What are you doing here?", Parvati came closer and placed her hands quite brazen between the two, holding to the edge of the desktop. "Potions essay.", she snorted.

"Potions essay.", confirmed Hermione. "Have you done yours already?"

"Yeah, yesterday.", Hermione knew it was a lie since she had seen what Parvati had done during almost all the free minutes of the previous day she hadn't spent on the toilet or eating; namely, nothing too different from what she did now, though it hadn't been _as_ obvious.

"Then you, instead of me, could go and help Ron and Harry with their essays. They are sitting in the common room, playing chess rather than doing what they – "

This time three heads turned. Hermione had already hoped for Madam Pince, but it was another usual gate-crasher. However, he could probably even help, she considered. Yet he preferred to ignore them and strode past the opposite row, apparently in thoughts. No, he was listening. Six eyebrows raised as he leaned his left ear closer to a book and huffed. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve, grabbed the book, pulled it out so quick that dust swirled after it and shot a silent Stunning Spell into the gap.

Utterly confused, the three stared at him as he examined the hole and then the book. Hermione saw that the lower edge looked like it had been eaten up. He placed it on the wooden board below with a sigh and stuck his left arm into where he had pulled it. Caught between his thumb and index finger, a motionless grey thing dangled down as he held it towards the window with an annoyed grimace. Parvati shrieked.

"Now Miss Patil, no need for such drama. It is only a mouse.", another man snuck up from behind him with a childish grin that bared two rows of yellow teeth. "The real drama is that it has grown fond of books."

"Helping ourselves to lunch?"

Snape gasped and dropped the unconscious mouse. Giving a grunt, he spun around and pressed his wand against the other's throat.

"How often,", he snarled through his own teeth, "Do I have to tell you that it is perilous to do that?"

"Nah – you wouldn't kill me Severus, would you?", cackled Karkaroff. "So? A mouse? In the library? Not too pleasant, huh?", the teacher's left hand pointed at the rodent on the floor and it lifted itself seemingly on its own, flying back up in his hand which caught it gently.

"Not at all. Irma has kept complaining for about two weeks now, but Argus seems to be incapable of dealing with something smaller than his cat, which by the way didn't catch any of those bastards either. Now if you excuse me,", he turned and firmly held the mouse down on the wooden board, "I need to interrogate our little friend here. Maybe I can find out where the others are."

"What do you want to do?", Karkaroff chuckled. "Butter it up so it starts talking? It is a mouse, Severus! A mouse! All you can do is to bait – "

"Ask it politely."

"Tz. Since when can _you_ talk to animals.", Karkaroff crossed his arms over his plain reddish brown robe with a curious frown.

"I only need to see where it would mean to flee to. If you would keep quiet so I can concentrate,"

Snape took a deep breath, pointed his wand at the mouse and it started struggling against his hand immediately. His eyes were so fixated on the animal that Hermione feared their stare would incinerate the poor thing. Another deep breath. Obviously he had achieved what he had wanted.

"Thank you for the information. I am terribly sorry, but this is only for your best."

As if the mouse knew what was going to happen, it stared at the tip of his black wand, pointed at its head. Too shocked to even wince, the three teenagers gaped at it as well when a quick green flash lit its surrounding and the mouse moved no more.

"You – you killed – ", Karkaroff aspirated, his arms fallen as slackly as the mouse laid now.

"It was only _a mouse_ , Igor.", murmured Snape and let go of it.

"In front of students!"

"I don't think, you are the right person to teach me morals. Besides, Irma said ` _no mercy_ ´."

"I think, she surely meant you should feed it to that Filch's cat, you underpayed hitman!", moaned the Russian, his accent intensifying.

"Don't worry, I will.", Snape knelt onto the floor and examined the boarding below. "The cat is just too stupid to catch living mice. And as I said, even regarding payment you'd rather shut up, seeing as it was me who got you employed after your idio– "

"But in front of – ", Karkaroff too was cut off, but by a cloak covered shoe against his stomach that forced him to take some steps back.

"Excuse me,", said Snape and crawled two feet backwards. "Ah, there you are."

He raised, patted the dust off his clothes and gave the entire area of the shelf row a wave of his wand. The books gently flew out, around him and settled down on the writing board behind him, at the teenagers' sides. Then he twirled the wand at the small hole at the floor he had discovered and a stream of smoke shot inside. Momentarily, about a dozen mice fled out of another hole in the lowest board and in all possible directions. Parvati squealed, not clear whether it was because of the mice or the well aimed green flashes that hit one after another. Angry footsteps and Madam Pince came hurtling along the corridor, to their rows.

"How MANY TIMES do I have to remind you that this – ", the librarian raged, "What is – oh Severus – you have – ", she had just come in time for the last Killing Curse to strike and apparently hadn't noticed it in her fury. "You found them? Thank god – no, thank _you_! Have you got them all?"

"I suppose so. At least – ", he looked around; nothing moved at the shelf but the smoke rising from the hole the mice had come from, "It looks like I eradicated the adults in the main nest."

Snape knelt down once more and carefully removed the board. Between the bars that supported the shelf, were many nests made of old paper and parchment. They had built themselves quite a comfortable home in there. He checked, but couldn't find any nestlings.

Magic was just brilliant, thought Hermione, as he gave his wand a simple flick after having gotten up and cleaned his clothes again. The bitten off pieces zoomed into various directions, finding their way back to the books they belonged to, which repaired flawlessly – at least, to a certain extent. Another flick and she knew he had filled the parts the mice had claimed their food. Then those flew to the first victim and formed a bundle, strangely glued together at their tails.

"Mrs Norris will have the most splendour meal ever, I assume.", Madam Pince smiled.

"Oh no. I think, I will at least keep half of them for some experiments.", he picked up the bundle and returned the books to the shelves with a gentle wave.

"So you _are_ having them for lunch.", grinned Karkaroff and ducked too late, earning himself a smack on the head with the dead animals. "Just kidding, Severus. Just kidding. No need to be such a ruffian.", another smack, in the other direction, this time actually hitting his cheek. "Mad dork!", he laughed.

"Really!", ranted Madam Pince. "This is a library and your students are around! Act like the adults you are supposed to be!"

A third smack on Karkaroff's head, from above now, followed by a self-satisfied smirk the younger ones didn't see, and he left the scene. Madam Pince shook her head, her eyes following him down the corridor. Something shot into Hermione's mind and she jumped up. In a quick-thinking-second she gave her Potions stuff a wand-wave as well; careful to keep the book in her hand; stuffed it into her bag and stormed after him. He had been faster than she had expected and so she just reached him when he was already at the entrance of the library.

"Sir – ", she panted, making him stop and turn.

"Yes, Miss Granger?", trying to find breath, she stammered to him, very quiet so no one but him would hear it – heads were peeking out of the rows already anyway.

"What exactly – ", she opened a random page, looking serious, "Does – that here – mean?"

"That is – ", he replied equally low, frowning.

"I know it's been months,", Hermione whispered fast now, "And I feel terrible for never having made to say, but – thank you."

"What for?"

"Your care for me – after the Yule Ball – and eventually, before the second task – "

There was an awkward silence between them and they were just looking deep into one another's eyes. Whereas her expression was almost determined, he looked rather absent. She could see his lips curl faintly when he swallowed barely catchable.

"Boo!", said a male voice down where they had come from and Parvati shrieked like before.

"Professor Karkaroff!", warned Madam Pince. "I don't really care how childish you prefer to be in your spare time, but please leave this library, before you indulge in any questionable habits."

"She begged for it – "

"Igor.", Snape moaned loud enough for the man to turn towards him and shook his head.

"What.", chuckled Karkaroff and with a sigh, Snape looked back at Hermione.

"I have no idea what you mean.", he said as though honest, but a peculiar spark in his eyes told her that he was simply saying this to keep it between them. "And you should not question this book, Miss Granger. It leads you nowhere."

A hesitant smile drifted over Hermione's mouth when he spun around and pushed the old glass door of the library, walking away, and she closed her book with a snap. For some moments she just stood there and looked at where he had disappeared. Something brown hurried past her, out as well. She understood that she was risking to be finally rated down to Parvati's level, but for whatever Parvati did it, her; Hermione's; reason, was far deeper, she knew. The looks of Parvati when she was sneaking around, were giving the girl's nosiness away. Parvati was nosy, not concerned like her. Hermione waited some seconds after he was out of sight until she went after him, hoping that the other girl was too frightened now as to have the same idea.

Trying to keep the sound of her shoes down and the distance at fair measure, she followed Karkaroff through the castle, passing the one or other small group of students. It was hard to keep up with him, stopping every time he went around a corner and peeking past just in case he would look back. Once she caught him doing just that and she had to hold back a giggle as it made her understand that he followed his friend in exactly the same way as she followed him.

Eventually they found him in a sixth floor open arched corridor that overlooked the lake. Peeking left around the corner, Hermione examined it. There were only a few doors down at the left, inner side until it ended in a wall with the big statue of some kind of horse like, bony creature she had never seen before. In fact, it also surprised her that she had wandered this school for almost four years and had never come up to that corridor. A look at the alcove to her right, introduced her with another statue of a winged horse, though this resembled more those that had pulled the Beauxbatons carriage at their arrival.

The bright blue sky outside the arches gave the corridor some charm. Right in the middle of it, sat Snape on the sill, his long black cloak hanging down the wall inside the corridor and his lower legs dangling over the abyss. At his right, sat Mrs Norris, already chewing a mouse. The other mice were out of sight for her, but for some reason he was covering his mouth and nose with his right hand. Very slow, Karkaroff approached him from behind, eyeing the scrawny cat.

"She really looks like she is unlucky at catching mice.", he chuckled, but Snape's blank expression into the blue remained the same. "What did she want? The Granger girl, I mean."

"Wonder whether the book was right.", he mumbled into his hand, hardly audible from her position. "She starts questioning books. Very unlikely of her.", next to hearing him at all, Hermione was surprised to hear him lie, strangely suspecting that he knew she was spying on them. "Normally she sucks in every information provided by books as though they were the ultimate law of the universe. But maybe she began growing up and came to understand that not all books are what they seem to be.", now she really wasn't sure anymore whether she had not been noticed by him.

"So does she follow orders – "

"Not at all. She knows when to obey and when to only pretend as though."

"Intelligent then?"

"Yes."

"Skilled?"

"Very.", hearing that from him, made her blush.

"Then Viktor has chosen the right one as his girlfriend?"

"You don't _chose_ a girlfriend, Igor.", snarled Snape. "Or at least, you shouldn't. But yes, I suppose, he did indeed _chose_ her. Though he has taken something he doesn't deserve.", those words eliminated every hint of pink from Hermione's face now. "That girl is far too complex as for him to be able to cope with. If he really is as clever as you claim, he will eventually give up on her when he notices she only sort of fancies him but has eyes for another. She doesn't need someone who is in her way when she has; to her; important work to do. She needs a certain extent of freedom and he is so hormone-driven that he doesn't see it. If it really interests you, the reason why she ran after me was because she fled. She needed an excuse to get away from her _boyfriend_."

How did he know all that? Hermione was so stunned that she feared she would just fall over into the corridor like a wooden staff.

"An independent, intelligent, talented young woman you'd say then?", he placed his hands on Snape's shoulders.

"If you wish to describe her as simple, yes."

"Probably having gotten this from her mother?"

"I never met her, but maybe."

"High position in the Ministry?"

"Her parents are dentists."

"Den- dentists?", Hermione couldn't see either man's face, but Karkaroff recognisably looked down on the other's head. "They are – _Muggles_? Viktor took himself a Mud– "

"May I remind you that you were raised in a Muggle orphanage and that you once gathered the information on your parents' last whereabouts from Muggles? It is quite likely neither of the two were capable of magic, so don't judge people by their descent when your own is unclear. It does not matter where we come from, it matters only which of that we use in what way. But I accept your opinion. After all, it has saved your neck quite a couple of times."

"I can't understand how you can not dislike Muggles. You only had negative experience with them. Uh well, if we don't count Ursula – and still, in ways,"

"I merely happened to be a magnet to some nasty sort. They are human, believe me. We are all the same. If we don't judge by appearance or habit, we judge by origin and most likely fail to interpret it right. _Because_ , there are laws of nature, and more important, every law has rebuttal. There are such things as exceptions and that is what makes the world so interesting.", Karkaroff grunted on that, looking back out over the lake.

"You know I prefer it nice and simple."

"But the world isn't as _nice and simple_ as you wish it to be, Igor. And it is not my fault that my father failed to implant his narrow-mindedness and plain way of thinking matters which didn't coincide with his prejudiced philosophy, into immediate oblivion.", he raised on the sill and Karkaroff let go. "Yes, you are right, to a certain extent. Sometimes we stick our wry noses too deeply into things that shouldn't bother us.", he paused and swung himself easily outside around the one of the thin, arching pillars to his left, walking over the next part of the wall then and finally without a hand on the mouth. "But in fact, they _do_ bother us. I suppose, it is all right then – as long as we are not caught by the wrong people."

Snape took the second pillar inwards and Karkaroff followed on the floor, away from Hermione. She feared she might at last not hear them properly anymore, should they walk further.

"If you're not careful, you will fall far too deeply into your considerations. It does not do you good to nose around in the depths of the world.", Hermione was more afraid that he might fall from the arches and into death, but then remembered that he would be able to fly back up.

"So you suggest, I sit down in my office, cross my fingers and let time pass, not bothering anything?"

"I merely said that you are obsessed about details that should _not bother_ you at all."

"Don't treat me like a child, Igor. If I had ever been such, somewhen at the very beginning of my life, it was killed when I met with the kitchen floor."

"Severus – I _care_ for you! You are the only one who ever cared for _me_! Not even my parents – "

"Might have loved you far more than you could imagine."

"They dropped me – "

"Has it ever crossed your mind that they did this out of love? That they themselves couldn't feed you?", two more arches down the corridor, he finally stopped and turned, vexed. "And I believe, we had that before.", he added grumbling.

"But why then leaving me without a sign of them?"

"Well, that is the nature of placing one's child in an orphanage, isn't it? No orphanage would keep a child that still had family."

"Then why not giving me to another family?", the cat had choked some pellet and caught up with them.

"To find them calling others Mum and Dad? That is probably the worst you can hear from your own child, especially when you spun the threads so they eventually lead to it."

"Oh what do you know about this."

"What do _you_ know about this, Igor.", with a snort, he threw another mouse down to the begging Mrs Norris. "If you excuse me now, I need to conserve some mice, before that cat explodes. Or I."

Snape hopped off the wall, did a brief glance past Karkaroff's shoulder and went for the second corridor leading to the one they were in, down by the bony statue, where his cloak waved after him as he disappeared around the corner. Karkaroff just stood there, his face down where his friend had left. Mrs Norris came prowling around his legs, but he didn't pay attention. Slowly, so she wouldn't be heard, Hermione went back into the inner corridors of that wing and on, in direction of the main tower.

One of the staircases decided to move just when she was about to use it and so she had to take a detour to get upstairs. Though someone called after her.

"Hermy-own-ninny!", she spun around and saw him speeding up from a lower staircase. "There – you – are.", he came to halt, panting like hell.

"Yes. Sorry I left. I just had to check something."

"And? Vot vos it?"

"What do you mean?", frowned Hermione.

"That you vonted to check?"

"Oh – I – nothing important, really.", she smirked.

"Then vhy in such a hurry?"

"Huh?"

"Are you here? Your mind seems off – "

"Oh I _am_ here, yes – ", actually she wasn't sure. "If – if you excuse me,"

She had spotted Harry below, turned without any more looks at Viktor and stormed downstairs to her best friend. Harry was quite shocked to see her.

"I – er – Hermione – ", he stammered, but she didn't care.

"Come with me. I got to see Hagrid and I need your assistance."

"I just came from Hagrid's,", Harry confessed.

"Never mind.", hissed Hermione. "I'm not going there anyway. I just want you to help me escape."

Frowning, he let himself be pulled back down the tower by her.

~~#~~


	7. Chapter 6 - Rise of the Downfall

– Chapter 6 –

 **Rise of the Downfall**

"Would you mind telling me now what we're doing?"

They stood on the Wooden Bridge that led down to Hagrid's hut and looked into distance. Mainly it was Hermione who had done so for the last fifteen minutes. Harry stood at her side and still just stared at her in hope for answers.

"Hermione?"

"As I said, I needed to escape.", huffed the girl at last.

"From whom? _Viktor?_ ", Hermione lowered her head with a sad smile.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I – don't know.", she curled her lips and looked away again.

"So you're already fleeing from him – what's next? Attacking him with books?", chuckled Harry.

"You know they're too sacred for me.", unable to help a smirk, she nevertheless still avoided his eyes.

"Sure.", another chuckle. "What happened?"

"I don't know what happened."

"You can tell me."

"I can't."

"Sure you can."

"No, I can't. Because, as I said, I _don't know_ what happened."

"Then break up with him,", her head finally zoomed at Harry.

"What?", she hissed.

"Look, you're obviously unhappy with him. Why don't you break up then?"

"I can't just – _break up_ , Harry!", Hermione moaned and looked into the blue once more. "It's not that simple. I don't know what exactly it is, but it isn't as simple as it might sound to you." – had she actually just –phrased it like this?

"But sooner or later you will have to face it."

"I didn't force you to come with me just to listen to things I might have guessed myself."

"Then why else did you bring me here?"

"Oh can't it just be that I need a male being around me that doesn't drool after me or hates me causelessly?", sighed Hermione. "Or is being mysterious towards me – ", she added low, hoping he wouldn't hear.

"What was that last?"

"Nothing.", she replied curtly. "Listen, Harry – I – ", she needed a deep breath, then she swallowed, "How's your scar doing?", and she also desperately needed a different topic.

"Not all too good,", he looked into distance now as well. "It's been hurting more frequently and wakes me at nights. Whatever's happening, he must have found a way to become more powerful."

"Do you think, he will return?"

"No idea.", Harry scratched his neck. "I mean, it's obvious, isn't it? Karkaroff looks more and more panicked every day and keeps running after Snape, who's getting annoyed by having to run _away_ from him and my scar's burning like hellfire when it hurts. I'd be a total dimwit if I pretended that this means nothing. There's definitely something going on out there."

"That's not good, considering that you should rather be prepared on the third task."

"Hermione!", snarled Harry. "First, I don't even know what's it going to be or anything about it, and second, if he's really on the move, I think, a third task will be the least to worry about! If he's really returning, _he_ 'd be the actual third task!"

"Alright, alright.", Hermione murmured. "I was just saying."

"Yeah. Sure. It's not that you know what it feels like. You have no idea how it feels to be torn between thoughts or fears you don't even know where exactly they come from – or have emotions you shouldn't have and that don't feel like they're your own."

How wrong he was, thought Hermione. But how should she tell him? _How?_

"You're right. I don't know what such feels like.", someone else gave the answer she meant to give and they turned their heads down to the outer end of the bridge. "At least not what it feels like to _you_. After all, you are a woman.", puffed the man with Russian accent and she wondered how they had gotten there without passing her or Harry.

"I'm not talking about gender differences here.", she replied, as angry as him, stomping by his left. "I'm talking about principles."

"I have spent four years now with him – does it not occur to you that I might know him?"

"I spent – oh what was it? Six and a half?", Burbage snapped. "And other than those _four years_ you are so proud of having spent with him, we didn't break contact! You didn't give a shit about him! For _twelve_ years!"

"Eleven and nine months.", Karkaroff corrected her.

"Oh wonderful! Three months in a cosy cell. That is all he was worth to you before you thought betraying him might help you out there."

"You don't understand!"

"You two do though know that I am still walking behind you?", Snape threw his words over their shoulders, but they marched on, differently coloured hair bumping with their steps.

"Quite, yes.", huffed Burbage.

"Yes, I agree with you that he was a bit of a jacksie; and still is;"

"Hey!", Karkaroff spun and stomped on backwards now.

"Don't deny, Igor.", Snape murmured. "You _are_ a swine. Be glad that you haven't taken a shortcut in the Grand Tower yet with a little help of my hands."

"Oh come on, what would it take for you to care for Viktor as well? And don't bring up again, that he is _my_ student."

"Well, not regarding that he is _your_ student,", Snape said mock ponderingly but ended his answer quickly above Karkaroff's huffing, "He'd have to be my son, yes."

"Tz."

"Honestly, as great fun it is listening to the two of you trying to analyse my psyche, I can think of various better things to do with my day.", Karkaroff sighed on it and decided it was wiser to turn his back on that grimace, not only for proper walking. "So, either you let me through or change the topic."

"And what do you suggest?", asked Karkaroff.

"That you let me through _and_ change the topic."

"And what do you suggest as a topic?"

"I am not your mother.", Snape snorted when they actually passed Hermione and Harry now, who had to squeeze themselves to the old, creaking banister, dangerously close to fall outside. "Grow up, for Igy's sake. You're a decade older than me. Fairly enough time for doing that, one might think. But if you really are so helpless, perhaps, wonder why Miss Granger and Mr Potter there have grown ears of the size of Miss Patil's when possible gossip appears to be wafting through the air."

"We haven't grown ears like Parvati, Sir!", Hermione protested. "It's not our fault, that you and your _dear friends_ decided to walk the same bridge we stood on!"

"Mind your tongue, Miss Granger.", Karkaroff added some Russian muttering to that. "And you too, mutt. If you must gnaw at something, please take some meat but leave my anyway filthy mood."

"Has he just called him a – ?", aspirated Harry when the three left the bridge into the yard.

"A jacksie, a swine and a mutt within less than a minute, yes. They have a rather interesting friendship.", Hermione aspirated.

"Friendship."

"Yes, Harry, _friendship_.", he blinked heavily on the malevolent glare she gave him and turned to look at the landscape again, much to her comfort.

"SEVERUS!"

They spun so fast they almost fell over. All they could see was Burbage struggling to push him away from Karkaroff, who was on the cobbles, blood starting to trickle from his nose and mouth which he wiped off and he gazed at his hand to see whether it was actually there. Then he stared up to the younger man whose face was hidden behind his swaying greasy curtains.

"TAKE THA' BACK!", he barked.

"Please come down, Severus!", Burbage moaned, having troubles holding him. "That's really not worth it. Besides, they are – "

"I dUn' give a damn – "

"Severus,", she had pulled her wand from her pocket and pierced it into his throat, which apparently made him falter enough to stop struggling. "He may be an arsehole, but if you need to discuss that in such a way, keep it to your office! You're a teacher, for Heavens' sake! You can't just go punching your old friends because they throw the one or other nastiness at you!"

"You don't know – "

"Don't I? Well, sorry I haven't told you, but I _do_ understand Russian very well. Yes, I know exactly what he said and to be honest, I'd really like to turn right now and add a kick of my own. You tell people to keep their tongues at bay? That's rather rich, considering that you can't even control your fists. _You're not your father_."

"Severus? I – I'm – "

"Save your breath, Karkaroff.", he huffed, pushed the woman's hand aside with enough force to make her stumble and stomped off. "If you actually knew what you just said there, you'd hang yourself."

"Oh come on! You don't really take me that serious, do you?"

"One word like that again and you will find the Selkies making bets on whether you suffocate before the Grindylows eat you under your ship."

"And what is the difference? Is he _your son_ or what?", Karkaroff chuckled but Snape disappeared inside without an answer. "I am still talking to you!"

"You'd rather be careful.", meant Burbage.

"But he hates him!"

"I wouldn't be so sure. The last time he defended someone like that was in his schooldays and there are only two sorts of situations that can make him address his friends by their surnames."

"You think he defended him?"

"You really _are_ dumb. Try a different person next time and see what his reaction is. If it's the same, it's either coincidence or I was totally wrong. Personally, I'd go for the first. But just an advice, you shouldn't get too near him within the next couple of days. I don't know what he usually does to keep you at bay, but I can assure you it doesn't work the other way round."

Now she as well turned for the open gates and vanished inside then, leaving the bewildered Headmaster and teenagers behind. It took a long while for even the seemingly burning air to cool. Finally Karkaroff pushed himself up. His face blood smeared, he spun at Harry's whispered question, in the otherwise quiet surrounding obviously loud enough to be heard by him.

"Who do you think that was about?"

"I – I have an idea – but – no – that can't be – ", Hermione stammered honest. "Let's go to Hagrid."

"I was there before!", Harry raged but couldn't fully resist her fierce hand that grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

"I don't think he'll mind seeing you twice a day. Karkaroff, however, looks like he'd go really mad on us if we stayed here. So come on. And don't ever bring up again what we just saw."

"Honestly, you think I'd – "

" _Never_."

~~#~~

An enchanting melody drifted through a gap between the high, gilded doors, flooding the ancient room. In a caressing embrace, a couple stood in front, listening to the choir's song. Viktor had wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leant back against his chest. Not caring about time, they enjoyed the music together. Hermione just attempted to turn and give him a kiss, when additional voices distracted her. The moment she located the direction, she saw the source already and could do nothing but huff at the irony.

"Just try to be careful.", said Snape, sounding utterly concerned. "We both know exactly what it means."

"You say? I've been trying to tell you for almost a year!"

"Half a year. And keep your voice down, Igor. The choir is practising and you really don't want Filius' attention. Listen,", he stopped him with his hands on his upper arms. "You can't go yet. Wait. Wait at least until tomorrow night. Viktor needs your guidance, your attendance. Be fair to him."

"But this isn't fair anymore.", Karkaroff moaned. "You know it isn't."

"Yes, I know it isn't. It has never been. Just try for some care. You can count on me, Igor. I'm on your side. Yes, I am. Just – don't dump him in cold water.", Snape gently pulled him in a brotherly embrace. "Please."

"Suddenly he doesn't have to be your son anymore?", the way he was pushed off, yet held by the shoulders, didn't bode well. "Alright, alright. I will stay as long as I can. But if they get me,"

"I will try my best and stand in for you.", he patted on his friend's shoulder and let go at last. "Here.", Snape took something from his pocket and placed it in Karkaroff's right hand.

"What is this?"

"Four drops, eight hours."

"Oh. That crap.", Karkaroff sighed. "Thank you, my friend."

"Not worth mentioning. Good night, Igor."

"Yes. May yours be as pleasant as possible as well."

Karkaroff turned and waved back, a little limp, when he shuffled through the Entrance Hall. He was so deeply in thoughts with his eyes on the crystal flask that he didn't even see the couple he passed. But Snape saw them. Viktor waited until his Headmaster was gone.

"Vot does this mean? Dump me in cold voter? Again or vot?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. He won't. Please be a gentleman and bring Miss Granger up to her House, safely and without detours. And mind the fifth floor. There is a new trick stair. She knows where it is. Just make sure that she doesn't forget until you reach it. Good night.", the teacher spun around and marched back down the spiral staircase, out of sight.

"Vot is going on here?"

"No idea. But I think, I should really go to bed. So should you. You need the sleep for tomorrow."

~~#~~

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"Where have they gone?"

"It probably belongs to the task."

Whispers filled the air.

People were having very similar conversations on the stands all around the Quidditch pitch and the omnipresent excitement slowly transformed into crawling nervousness.

"Now that's an interesting twist!", Ludo Bagman's beaming voice with a faintly panicking undercurrent echoed over the field of hedges. "Always in for a surprise, the committee!"

"Lend me your binoculars, please.", Hermione reached down to Parvati who gave them to her.

Instead of the maze, her subject of interest was Dumbledore. He and Fudge looked rather worried as well, though were more than obviously busy hiding it to their momentary best. At Dumbledore's left, Moody's blue eye was rolled to the back of his head and he seemed comparatively calm, concentrated on studying the situation. She realised whom he watched. One row above, next to Madam Maxime who needed a lot of space, Igor Karkaroff was pure panic in person. His hand on his left forearm, he was visibly fighting some urge and Hermione knew that if there would be any hint of reaction from his mark, he would jump up and be gone.

Hermione's whole insides collapsed to something of the size and taste of the most sour lemon – and she detested lemons. This was not about any tournament or wizarding glory anymore; wherever the cup had taken Harry and Cedric, they would quite likely face the perhaps impossible task to – survive. Harry had been right.

Trying not to show anything either, especially since the awareness of what Harry had said began to imprint itself in her mind, she tilted down the binoculars. Below Dumbledore's seat, the Heads of Houses formed a sitting line. Between Sprout and McGonagall, the next important person in the secret matter. As straight as a board and his hands flat on his knees, Snape's eyes rushed around under his narrowed brows, trailing over sceneries that apparently were inexistent for him. She could downright feel the pressure between the teeth he hid.

Solely noticed by four, Karkaroff pressed his eyes and lips shut, wrenching his arm. Madam Maxime and Poliakoff stared at him as though something slimy and ugly was about to break from his body. A scarce smile drifted onto Moody's scarred face, but that didn't bother her at the moment. Snape, looked more grim than ever. She could see his fingers dig into his thighs and his eyeballs flick to the left corner of their orbits. Then, as expected and accompanied by visible mutters of apologies, Karkaroff raised and squeezed himself towards the stairs of their spectator. She had to act. Handing the binoculars back, she stood up as well and went for the staircase two rows behind her.

"Where're you going?", Ron called after her.

"Toilet.", she replied curt and hurried off.

Halfway down the tower, she nearly stumbled, but could catch herself early enough not to take the remaining stairs rolling. Finally grass under her shoes. Panting heavily already, she stormed around the arena and to the northern tent through which the Champions had entered the maze, just when a rush of black shoved a rush of brown inside and against a post. Hoping that her breathing wouldn't give her away, Hermione peered inside the dim lit cavern of thick, dark fabric.

"Severus – let me go – please let me go – it's happening – you said you would – "

"Clam down, Igor.", Snape said as reposeful as he wished his friend to be, whose striking white curls appeared to have won the battle against whatever gel or spell he had used to flatten them to his head.

"He's coming – he's returning – Severus – "

" _I said, calm down!_ ", hissed Snape and Karkaroff silenced immediately as a gust of air had erupted from what seemed to have been Snape's entire body. "Calm down.", he repeated softly, his hands now moving from Karkaroff's shoulders to his cheeks. "I know, Igor. _I know_. Please do me a favour and try not to panic. At least, not more than you do already."

"I need to get away from here – far away – "

"Of course, Igor. I know you can't stay here. I have arranged everything for you, like I promised. Just give me a minute or two. I need to check whether the house is still safe. Here.", he pulled his black pouch from his trousers, from which he took another one, made of brown fur. "I packed your things while you had been going down here. Take it and wait exactly here for me.", Snape let go, but Karkaroff had no intentions to stay.

"I can go with you – you know I know how to get there – ", he marched after him.

"No, you don't.", Snape pressed him to the post again. "It's a new house."

"But I can still go with you – "

"No.", and another time. "You are too far off your senses to think logical, should someone have found it. Wait here. I'll be right back."

"But Severus, I – "

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Within a split second he lost his confusion as his eyes found Hermione's. Then he already caught the other man who was as solid and straight as the post now. Carefully, he laid him onto the ground.

"Thank you, Miss Granger.", he sighed, not even seeming to wonder why she was there. "Maybe _you_ can do me a favour and watch him, please?"

"Yes, Professor.", gargled the girl when he hurried over to her. "Is it – "

Her teacher broke against another post at the entrance, to her left. Struggling for breath, he held to it, his fingers corpse-white. Had he been able to move, she knew that Karkaroff would have been the same. Panting heavier than after his chase, he stared blank into the night. Hermione could just see his expression past his black curtain of hair.

"Sir?", she whispered, but his eyes only fixated the grass in the dreary shine.

"I need to go.", his determination was back, at least to his voice. "If I should not return before he summons the lot, I fear, there is no chance for any of us."

"So he's – ", moaned Hermione.

A mass of black fog soared into the dark and was gone. Hermione could barely stand upright. Her wand clutched by her whitening fingers, the murmurs of the people talking up on the stands seemed far away, like in a different world. Deafened by her momentary shock, everything only slowly started to pour down on her. For three years the world had done its best to make her prepared, but now that the moment had come, she was plainly unconscious.

He was back.

With all that turmoil Harry had made around Crouch having disappeared and Dumbledore finally having confessed that they had been right about Snape having been a Death Eater – and then at last finding out Rita Skeeter's secret – and her constant attempts to avoid Viktor while she actually wanted to spend all hours at all days with him – time had passed faster than anyone; even she; would have imagined. Enough time for the big bang, everyone had hoped so desperately not to come, to happen at last behind the façade of everyday hassle: Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard of all times, was back. Returned from his ghost-like state, ready to continue his journey of terror to gain power. And Harry and Cedric were in his hands. That was where the cup had –

"Now that's an interesting sight,"

Somewhat eerily dreamy, a girl's voice tore Hermione from her gruesome growing awareness. She had neither seen her coming, nor knew who she was, but if the situation had been another, she might have been able to recall that Ginny had spoken about that girl sometimes.

"Who petrified him?"

"Me – ", aspirated Hermione.

"Why?"

"He's – not – to leave – ", black fog landed between them and caught their attention.

"Good evening, Professor. You really have a talent for appearing out of nowhere."

"Miss Lovegood?", he blinked. "This is really not a place for you to be,"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Sir. It seems, I stumble into the most curious situations, but in the end I never found to have been in the wrong place."

Snape just shook his head and walked towards his friend. Kneeling down a little, he tapped his wand on him and helped him up. Equally wordless, he supported him out of the tent and they vanished in the night, Karkaroff not without a loathing glance at Hermione.

"I'm Luna, by the way.", sang the girl with her hands behind her back and seesawed.

"Oh.", it dawned on Hermione. "I'm – "

"Hermione Granger, I know.", she smiled.

"Sure."

"So? What's happening here?"

Hermione just gazed at that Luna's bright smile. Could she tell her? Could she dare, breaking this momentary so joyful girl?

"He's back.", she whispered hollow, just above the voices outside the tent.

"Who?", it came short and lively; Hermione swallowed in her pause.

"You-Know-Who."

The girl's smile froze in place and her seesawing reduced to a slight staggering, coming to halt when her lips parted and her dreamy eyes gazed back, turning into hollow silver tunnels. Like a dead puppet she stood there with her hands still behind her back and a bright orange necklace hanging down over her Ravenclaw uniform. The golden lightning bolts on her ears stopped dangling under her fair, wavy mane. Footsteps in the grass. Upset voices, arguing.

"I am sure, this is all just a mistake. Something must have gone wrong with the cup, Dumbledore. They will be back as soon as they figure out how to use it.", Fudge sang, though nervous.

"I am afraid, I cannot share your opinion, Cornelius. Yes, indeed something has gone wrong, but this is far bigger than any of us might yet be able to imagine."

"Conspiracies? To kidnap Potter? Honestly, you must listen to yourself and see how pathetically ridiculous this sounds! Of course, some people might have discrepancies with him, but kidnapping him – though maybe, if you really believe so, I might be able to think of one person who – "

"And who, Minister?", Moody growled and they all came to stand in front of the tent, looking at each other.

"Black."

"'O?", asked Madam Maxime, only visible up to her chest.

"Ridiculous, as you say it, Cornelius.", Dumbledore continued, getting audibly angry. "Sirius Black has nothing to do with this."

"He is a mass murderer! He wanted them long ago! The whole family! Even the boy! And last year!"

"I am sure, you believe in your wondrous opinions, but some things have evidence wandering in the world – "

"And I am sure, you'd like to know that this conversation isn't private, Albus.", said Moody, nodding into the tent.

The two spun and Maxime bent down to look inside. It apparently took her some moments to spot the girls that were standing there.

"Miss Granger? Miss Lovegood?", Dumbledore frowned. "What would you two be doing here?"

"Talking.", Luna replied instantly, though as hollow as Hermione had spoken before.

"Can you not think of a better place to talk at?", he asked calm and entered the tent, followed by the others. "Is – everything right with you? You look enormously worried and off your senses,", Hermione's eyes stood panic-stricken open, drilling into his in hope he would see what was on her mind. "Miss Granger?"

"Vare – is – Karkaroff? Vare – is he?", Viktor had obviously regained conscience and run all the way from the first-aid tent when he had heard them pass by.

"Shouldn't you be recovering, Mr Krum?", chuckled Dumbledore when he had closed up.

"I am – fine. They say – Potter – and Diggory – are gone – vare are – they? Hermy-own-ninny? Vot is – vith you?", he walked over to her and laid his hands on her arms. "You look pale – vot happened? Vare are is Karkaroff? Vare are they all?"

"He is gone.", said a deep, soft voice from outside the tent and everyone turned to see who it was.

"Severus?", Dumbledore aspirated. "What does that mean, `he is gone´?"

"Has he ran avay? Has he – _dumped me into cold voter_?", Snape, a limp picture of misery, lightly shook his head.

"This has nothing to do with you. You are safe, for now."

"What ees 'e talking about?", moaned Maxime, not noticing that Moody stared straight through her to see Snape. "What ees zis all about, Dumbledore?"

Before anyone could try to answer more questions, Snape was on his knees. Gasping for air and sudden terror in his dark eyes that stood wide open, he held his left forearm to his body, the palm at where his heart was apparently hammering against his ribs and supported himself with the other. Staring around in panic, he sank a little to the left and squinted, the breath taken from his lungs again.

"Severus?", moaned Dumbledore, but found himself unable to move otherwise – Fudge had seized his upper arm in a reaction of shock.

Snape just gazed into space, trying not to suffocate from something far from his influence. He gritted his teeth with his eyes pressed shut, the hint of a forced back groan of pain drifting though the rows. His eyes shot open once more and he breathed in as though he had been underwater for a long time. Fudge and Maxime took some steps away from him as he began to mutter to himself, forcing Dumbledore and Moody to do the same. Hermione tried to understand.

"Dun' le' 'im.", was the first she could decipher. "Jus' dun' le' 'im ge' ye – please – "

"Severus.", Dumbledore urged now. "What is happening. Please tell me.", but Snape closed his eyes another time, muttering on, his fingers clutched into the fabric on his chest and the grass.

"Be stron' – dun' give up – no' now – be stron' – stron' like yer mother – "

With another deep breath, his head fell into his neck, then rushed around again. Telling from his look and acting, Hermione knew that he wasn't seeing anything of what was in the tent. Nevertheless he attempted to push himself up from the ground. He even managed to, but staggered, finding hold on a post to his right after stumbling in its direction. His arm was still at his chest and he winced once more.

"O fodder. Gonadh. Cuidich.", he aspirated to the wood, his face buried in his right hand and covered by the greasy hair.

"Sir?", Hermione finally managed to loosen herself from Viktor's hands and walked over to him, very slow, so she wouldn't trip over her own weak feet.

"'Old on. Jus' 'old on. Dun' give in. Oh God – if ye exis', 'elp – do anythin' – jus' – sum'thin' – "

"Sir!", Hermione shouted at her best, right when a woman squalled into the tent.

"What is going on here?", the already very common question fell. "Miss Granger? What are you doing here? Why are you shouting? Severus? Is that you? What is happening? What are you all doing here? _What?_ ", she was so beside herself that if she hadn't recognised her, Hermione wouldn't have thought of Professor McGonagall having entered the tent; Professor Burbage was on her heels, failing at the try to get past her wildly brandishing arms.

" _Sir!_ ", Hermione shouted a little louder, ignoring the shock all around; though he kept muttering, in what she believed to be Gaelic now.

"Severus Snape! SHE IS talking to you!", not only Hermione was startled.

"I must ask you please, Miss Lovegood,", Dumbledore warned, but Snape finally raised his tear-washed face and gazed at her through his black strands.

"What's happening?", Hermione continued, quiet and calm again. "Can you _see_ it? What does he do?"

Though the answer was another groan of agony and he huddled back against his hand at the post. Then strangely, his breath calmed down so fast he appeared to not even believe himself that it did. He raised his head and stared at the wood, blank. No one but Hermione, and probably him, had heard the sound from the other side of the tent. Alarmed, she spun about and saw the two figures, lying on the grass outside at the entrance of the maze, behind Dumbledore. As soon as he had spotted them as well, he hurried towards the boys, the air already filled with footsteps and louder voices from above. People were on their feet, trying to see what had happened; some started climbing downstairs in hope they would be able to reach the scene soon enough to get a better view.

"Harry! _Harry!_ ", Dumbledore had knelt down and turned him over.

Hermione clapped her hands on her mouth and ran. But somehow, she didn't. Something was holding her back. Someone. A pair of strong arms was wrapped around her upper body, keeping her from joining them. No, he wasn't – he couldn't be – he – dropped the Triwizard Cup and grabbed Dumbledore's wrist. Hermione slackened in the arms with relief, sinking back against a warming chest, where a heart was beating firmly at her head. At last she looked down and saw the black sleeves with rows of buttons. It was him. He had regained strength. Hermione's eyes fell shut as the tension faded.

"He's back,", Harry's voice whispered over all others, or maybe just so clearly for her since she had already feared she would never hear it again. "He's back. Voldemort."

He spoke out loud what she had gotten to know for what seemed decades ago already. Fudge stammered something, but she didn't listen. She didn't pay attention. Harry was safe. Her best friend was alive. Her breath becoming controlled, she drowned in the nest she had been forced into, feeling trembling but soft fingers brushing over her hair and cheek. It was alright. Everything was fine. Harry was alive and okay. It didn't matter how many Dark Lords were outside the secured school grounds. They were inside and no one could harm them. No one.

"He's _dead_!"

"Cedric Diggory! _Dead!_ "

Hermione's eyes didn't open when she broke down in Snape's arms, crying out a nondescript pain she had swallowed all the time. The arms tightened around her and the brushing intensified.

"Sh.", she heard him whisper. "Sh, sh, sh.", but she somehow felt that he didn't want to calm only her. "Sh, Hermione. Sh. Don't."

The arms turned her around and held her close again. Now she heard the heart that had become placid, just like it had been months ago. His warmth filling her, was only little relief to the horror that finally reached the important parts of her mind. Something shortly touched her head from above. She couldn't tell what it was, but his hands were on the back of her head and her spine, both stroking her fatherly. Then some bigger thing – and she recognised it to be his cheek, because he swallowed. Someone walked past them in the chaos of voices and a gut-wrenching cry of a man followed, which she realised it must belong to Cedric's father who had arrived.

More people came from behind, moaning in protest. Had it been Harry that had been brought away? Still weeping, she didn't dare to rise from that comforting chest, nor did he dare to let go. People were discussing over things she didn't want to hear. In between, Amos Diggory's crying, hurting her uncovered ear. As if he had felt it, he placed his warm hand on it to shut the sound away from her. A girl screamed over the crowd that had gathered.

"Harry! Where's Harry! Where is he!", it was Ginny, forcing her way through the students that had crammed into the tent; Hermione finally opened her eyes, getting a blurred view on people that looked everywhere but not in their direction.

"He's gone.", said Luna, stopping her with a surprisingly firm grip.

The arms fell and the noise was clashing to her ears again. Getting hold of the fact, she understood and stepped back from him, right when he said his first loud word. Some people jumped in surprise.

"What?", he moaned to the girls. "Gone? Where?"

"Alastor took him.", said McGonagall who stood by the exit into the pitch with Viktor and a crooked Madam Maxime.

"Took him?", Snape's tone became anxious.

"Up to the castle, Severus.", Dumbledore returned inside while Fudge stayed with Mr Diggory.

"No.", Snape aspirated and stepped back as well, panicking. "No!"

"Severus – "

"Faigh muin – ", he murmured, spun and stormed at a group of agitated students that jumped aside in shock.

"Severus!", Dumbledore bellowed, but the only thing that stopped the other man was a wave of his wand, knocking him back and to the ground.

"Baobh!", Snape roared, turned and pushed himself up in no time, fury in every feature of his white face.

"Really, Severus!", gasped McGonagall. "Mind your language!"

"Oh he does,", Dumbledore chuckled. "Otherwise he would have used one I understand."

" _Shu' up!_ ", Snape spat and several students backed away in fear, having forgotten to cry at an instant. " _An' lemme ou'!_ "

"Now, now, Severus.", Dumbledore raised his hands to calm him. "Relax and – "

"ThA hell I will! I need tER find 'im! I need ter sto' 'im!"

"Alastor, you mean? Why?"

"'cause 'e's tha mole!"

There was this sort of long pauses no one liked to share. Professor Burbage used it to walk over to him however.

"Mind what you are saying there.", the old man became serious.

"I've known it all thA time! Igor knew as well! I jus' persuaded 'im tER keep shu' 'bou' it 'til we were sure!"

"Alastor Moody? A mole? Don't be silly, Severus.", Flitwick had felt the need to speak his mind as well and Dumbledore paced towards Snape, probably in hope to make him speak more quiet.

"He winced.", huffed Snape, some disturbing glistening in his eyes and his language back to something more articulate. "Just when Igor and I felt it. He _winced_. Did a good job to hide it, but not from me. _He carries the Mark_ , Albus."

"This is a truly fascinating story. Anything more to add?"

"Oh yes, there's a lot. But that has to wait. I must find him – he could be anywhere up there – doing hell only knows to – "

"Severus, I assure you, Harry is in safe han-"

"'E'S NO'!", he growled at Dumbledore who had grabbed his upper arms so hard that he startled and almost dropped the wand he had pulled from his sleeve without anyone's notice.

"Calm down, Severus, and tell me all your evidence you believe to have. We cannot act unless we know more. I can _not_ allow you to go up there and confront him alone. Knowing Alastor, I am afraid, you wouldn't stand a chance if he really fell for the – wrong – side – ", his eyes gaped at the firm female hand that loosened his grip to free the shaking man's arm, her other on Snape's back.

"Alastor Moody didn't.", said Snape, stern and cold. "But whoever pretends to be him, has."

"I beg your pardon?", McGonagall had moved over to them.

"For months I've been thinking that students stole from my storage, trying to brew Polyjuice Potion."

"Yes, we already discussed this matter.", Dumbledore confirmed.

"But I had been wrong. It was _him_. Have you ever seen Moody being disgusted by what he drank from his hipflask? Have you ever seen that? Just yesterday I mentioned his sister to him and he was off-guard. The real one never was. If any, he was upset. But the `Moody´ we've got here, looked like he believed me to speak rubbish.", Dumbledore brushed his beard with his free hand, obviously getting the clue. "He's an impostor! A Death Eater that had been walking the castle for almost a year, right under your oh so brilliant nose and you refused to _see_ it! You refused to _listen_!"

"Severus – "

"Bad enough you hired him for spying on Igor.", muttered Snape. "Bad enough you asked me to do the same, while the actual enemy had your spoken permission in any matter. Moody fought with you! Just like Igor had fought along my side! And rather like you, I _did_ recognise the man who had stood by me in my darkest hours before he fell victim to his own plans! Igor may be a shifty liar and a selfish backstabber when his life is threatened, but he's not dumb. Neither am I. Though your supposed wit seems to have a talent for messing up whom to suspect and whom to trust when it would be most necessary to listen to your heart.", whatever had been left of determination in Dumbledore, it slid off him now. "You say, you trust me? If you really do in at least the slightest way, then trust me _now_! Harry _is_ in danger! So, if you excuse me, I need to save his life!"

His cloak bulged up like a flag in the wind as he spun from Burbage's feeble attempt of comforting him and ran out of the tent, Hermione's feet reacting without her notice. She hurtled past Ron who had wanted to come over to her, right after Dumbledore who had seized McGonagall's wrist. But suddenly they were gone and she knew that Dumbledore had managed to catch hold of Snape.

"Hermione – ", Ron gasped, but she just sank to her knees with ultimate exhaustion.

~~#~~


	8. Chapter 7 - Borderline

– Chapter 7 –

 **Borderline**

Brightest sunshine fell over long hills covered with big trees and into the lake, where it made the surface glisten like fairy dust. A big ship lurched in a bay that was surrounded by high rocks. The small bell quietly chimed on top of the mainmast, swaying in the soft breeze and along the ship's rocking in the shallow waves. Though it was a beautiful day, the long stone stairs up to the yard were deserted like the square in the centre of the roofed arches. Alone on a bench in the cooling shadow of the stair-side corner, a girl wiped a brown curl behind her ear, devoted to a book on her lap. She had fled from the crowds, unwilling to listen to the repeated stories. But the book she read, didn't bring her much delight either. So it was the voices of her best friends, coming from the open front gates, that brought a little smile to her lips and she shut the pages, watching the two shuffling closer. One slightly dragged his leg.

"Oy, there you are!", chuckled the ginger and sat down at her left, the other to her right. "Pigeon?", he glanced at the title of the book. "Why would you read about a pigeon?"

"Oh brother-heart,", the trio startled, "Why can't she just be reading about a pigeon, huh?"

"Bloody hell! Where did you come from?", he frowned.

"From behind, Your High Dumpiness.", Ginny chuckled, crossed her arms and leaned to the pillar she had been standing hidden behind, having studied the lake.

"Ha, ha."

"Don't let yourself be beaten by your sister, Ron.", Harry laughed.

"Yeah. Don't let yourself be beaten by your sister, Ron.", giggled Hermione, but broke off when she saw Harry stretching out his neck for someone in the distant Entrance Hall. "What's it?"

"Oh just Cho. She went to lunch already. With her friend. That – what was her name? Marietta?"

"Yes, that's her best friend.", sighed Ginny. "And she definitely needs her now."

"Yeah. Horrible days for her. Just imagine, after all, he – was – her – ", Harry's sentence fell victim to his own gargling.

"Hang on, Hermione – who gave you the tampon?"

" _What?_ ", hissed the girl.

"I mean, you said, you _had_ good help."

"Ron!", she moaned in disbelief. "This is very private! And was _months_ ago!"

"Still. I mean, Cho wasn't, right? So who?"

"Why, all of a sudden and four months later, do you bother who taught me how to use tampons?"

"What the – ?", Harry murmured.

"Dunno.", shrugged Ron, frowning. "Just – curious."

"Well, if you have to be oh so curious, it was Burbage."

"Poke me?"

"Burbage, Ron. Professor Burbage."

"Wait – the – the Muggle Studies teacher?", he frowned even more.

"Yes, her."

"You run to a teacher for – tampons?"

"Yes, _I did_.", Hermione grumbled. "And she was great help, very friendly and discreet.", she could only just keep herself from pointing out that this was nothing one could say about him.

"Good advice. Take it to your heart, Ronald.", meant Ginny. "If you should ever be in need of a tampon, go to Professor Burbage.", it took some time to sink in, but eventually, they had a great laugh on it.

"So?", Hermione grinned the necessary change of topic, "Any notice from Padfoot?"

"Nope,", Harry smirked. "Either he's doing too well, or he's dead. Let's not hope for the second."

"Great, that you can already make jokes about death again.", she snarled.

"Well, that's life, I suppose.", he nevertheless lost his smile. "We're all going _to the dogs_ anyway."

"Don't say something like that, Har-", she could have sworn to have heard the sound of something heavy being pulled over the ancient stone tiles behind.

"But it's true! No one lives forever, right? And if I don't take down Voldemort, one day he'll die from age. I mean, didn't Dumbledore say that the stone Flamel had, was the last one? I hardly reckon anyone will ever be able to create a new one. The way he spoke about it, Flamel was close to pop his clogs when he finally managed to."

"Vho popped his clogs?", said a grumpy sounding voice from behind the four and Hermione's neck cracked dangerously when their heads turned once more. "And vot does that mean?"

"Ouch.", she whimpered very quiet and rubbed it.

"Kick the bucket? Go toes up? No?", Harry came up with more idioms.

"You mean dying?"

"Yes."

"Uh – I think, I had enouff of that.", even Ron joined in the laugh, though a bit awkward. "Can I haff a vord vith you, Hermy-own-ninny?"

"For heaven's sake, learn her name.", Ron murmured, but he must have missed that, even though Hermione shortly slammed her `pigeon´ on Ron's head. "Ow!"

"Sure.", she jumped up at Viktor's puzzled look. "Where?"

"Uh – I don't know – over there?", he pointed to the opposite corner and Hermione's enthusiasm depleted.

"Right."

Holding her book to her chest, she followed him past the entrance to the broad viaduct bridge, to the shadows underneath the other roof. There he hid her securely behind a pillar, away from the looks of the others. Sure not to be seen, he bent down and kissed her softly. Still hugging her book, she kissed him back. But when he wouldn't put his arms around her, she stopped, pulled away and eyed him with interest.

"I guess, this is goodbye then.", he said wearily.

"Goodbye? But there are still two days to go – "

"Her-my-ow-nee.", it took him some seconds to get it out, but at last, he did. "I am very fond of you and I know that you like me very much. But I haff come to see, that your heart is somevare else."

"Viktor – ", Hermione's eyes glazed.

"I live far avay. I haff grown up far avay. I am in international business. You haff to finish school. You haff your friends here. Your life is here, mine is in another place. And your heart belongs to a person that is inside these school's valls vith you. You can be better together vith him. Far better.", he presented her with a gentle smile and nod.

"Viktor, I – "

"No. I think he loves you really. He has acted like this. And you haff acted similar. Try to speak it out. Try to be happy together. Ve can still be friends, if you like to. It vould be vonderful."

"Yes.", Hermione sighed, smirking sadly.

"Thank you for everything, Hermy-own-ninny."

"Thank you too, Viktor."

They just looked at each other for some moments. Then he took her in the arms. Another smile when they let go; he shuffled backwards and turned to the yard.

Seeing him coming alone, Ginny grabbed her legs and hurried across the square, not deigning to look at him or the bridge or anything around. All she cared for was Hermione, whom she found leaning to the pillar, her empty face straight ahead.

"Hermione?"

"He – he broke up with me – ", she sang, accompanied by a dull chuckle.

"What? That b– "

"No. It was right. _He_ – was right. We don't belong together. We're friends, but not more. It just – it doesn't fit."

"Oh Hermione.", moaned Ginny and laid her arms around her as well, but this time Hermione returned the gesture, not even able to shed a tear.

Meanwhile, Ron and Viktor had exchanged some brief looks and Viktor disappeared behind the arches. Shortly before he reached the stairs, he startled, like he had already done half a year ago. Some more looks were exchanged. Then Viktor rushed back down to the ship, actually shocked.

"And that was his reason?", Ginny urged.

"Like I said,", they parted, "He knows that my heart belongs somewhere else."

"And where?", Hermione stepped out of their hiding place and looked over to the bench; Ginny walked around her, taking a look as well.

"Er – what?"

"Um – "

"Oh – for a moment, I though you were going to say Harry."

"Ginny!", Hermione moaned upset.

"Yeah. Sure. No, I mean, you can have him."

"What?"

"So what? He's my brother. What do I care.", the chuckle relieved Hermione a bit. "If you need help, just say. I know how to kick him back into the pit."

"Thank you. But I think I can handle him as well. At least I should be able to, after four years, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Still, if you need – Hermione?", she noticed that her friend stared at something else than Ron, who only frowned across the yard with Harry, neither of them turning as her head followed the shadow that paced quickly through the arches; a little strange, if she thought about it.

"You – excuse me,", she gasped and started running.

Her shoes clattered over the huge flat tiles of natural stone, towards the Entrance Hall. But regardless of how fast she was, he reached it first.

"Sir!", she called after him, but was obviously ignored, because it would have asked for a miracle for him to not hear her. "Sir!", she repeated, but he disappeared behind a group of tall seventh-years, gone from her view. "That went bad,", she huffed to herself.

"Hermione?", Ron had caught up, a limping Harry on the heels and Ginny came from the other side. "What's going on? Whom did you run after?"

"Where have you got your eyes, Ron!", she snapped. "Snape's back!"

"Already?", the younger injured murmured.

"That was a fast mission,", aspirated Ron.

"Yeah. Even faster than I was. But he's hurt."

"Hurt?"

"He's got himself a cut on the cheek, I saw it. It's still bleeding. His lip as well. He was – limping – and it looked like his left arm's broken too – "

"Serves him well, the – "

"Ron!", Hermione moaned. "He's on our side!"

"Believes Dumbledore."

"If it hadn't been for him, Crouch would have done – _hell only knows_ – to Harry.", she sighed. "He saved his life again – "

~~#~~

A fire was crackling peacefully and chatting as well as clattering filled the dusty room. Down in the lower floor, between all the unwanted memories of one man's past, at this hour, there was no space for the war that was crawling through the small, unpleasant alleys, blowing out seemingly minor candles every hour, away from everyone's knowledge, though still close enough to be felt.

As silent as the fingers of death trailed over the unseen, dark fabric blew up the dust which a caring mother had been incapable of making her children remove. Behind a curtain, the portrait of an old lady of long gone days slumbered on, not woken by the elegant black shoes striding over the carpet and past the Troll foot like a cat's paws. The events of the past weeks had left no visible marks behind. Not on someone like him, not if he did his usual best to hide it. Only bits of dust got caught on the dark seam as it slid over the stairs, down to that room. There he opened an old door with ease and entered.

"What's the bat doing here?", snapped Ron Weasley when the black figure with the waving cloak came walking into the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, where all of them were at supper.

"A very good evening to you as well.", he murmured. "I see, you still haven't managed to coordinate, what your brain lets slip through your mouth, have you?"

Nobody saw Hermione; who sat next to Ron; becoming as red as the wine in Sirius' goblet when Snape's dark eyes moved from Ron to her in the middle of the sentence. Not even Ron himself, since he was too busy exchanging looks with the others.

"Good evening, Snivellus! What kind of fancy story are we going to hear from you today?", Harry Potter's godfather smirked and took a sip of his wine.

"Sirius!", Mrs Weasley hissed.

"It is perfectly all right, Molly. _Paddle_ foot has never known better.", Snape sneered. "You should just be careful, what kind of manners he teaches your youngest son.", she stared at him, totally dumbfounded.

"Pardon?", Sirius sat up straight. "Don't get me wrong, but for a moment it sounded like you said something, Snape?", that one just gazed up into nowhere, replying dreamingly.

"Does none of you hear that annoying, ringing sound coming from the end of the table to my left?"

"Another word like that from you and you'll _actually_ have your left ear ringing,", Sirius had put down his goblet, stood up and pointed his wand directly at Snape's head.

"Another word like that from _you_ , Black,", he faced him straight and cold, "And I will make Miss Granger here pour the rest of that little potion she's been carrying around for more than a year now, into your goblet and force it down your throat.", he spat at him, all other heads turning to Hermione who tried to look like she had no idea what was going on. "Then you can call yourself lucky if you wake up once in the upcoming decade."

"What is he – ?", Ron aspirated to her.

"I don't know.", Hermione whispered.

"A threat, Snivelly? Well, it wasn't quite impressive, was it?", Sirius chuckled mock amused, not lowering his wand and back to anger immediately.

"Enough!", barked Mrs Weasley, on her feet as well. "Out! Everyone who's not in the Order – get out of here! And don't you dare to eavesdrop at the door!"

"Mum!", Fred and George said at once.

"We're eating!", continued Fred.

"Yeah!", added George.

"You can take that stuff to your room.", she snorted, pushing her hands into her hips. "Now get out!", murmuring, the addressed people left the kitchen, just the twins carrying their plates, cutlery and glasses. "You as well, Sirius. We have enough enemies already. It's not wise to fight against our own kind too. We'll tell you everything later."

"Our own kind.", he mumbled grunting, lowered his wand and grabbed his goblet only, following the others. "You can have my supper, Snivvy. Enjoy it.", he said when strutting past without giving him a glance. "Ten Galleons, George,", he continued as he walked through the door, "That he won't last a minute without choking."

"Fifteen, for under half a minute.", replied the latter.

"That's unfair. I might actually lose.", chuckled Sirius.

"Now will you shut up, you morons?", Mrs Weasley shouted, slamming the door with a wave of her wand.

"Did she just call you a moron?", Fred giggled. "Congratulations, brother-sweet. You've finally driven Mum mad."

"Oh shove it.", George laughed back.

"What is he actually doing here?", Ginny asked what Ron had tried before.

"He's now _one of us_.", laughed Sirius, annoyed but quiet, leaning against the wall of the corridor one floor up and taking a gulp. "He's a _full_ member of the Order. At least that's what Dumbledore is trying to make us believe."

"Then you should believe him.", whispered Hermione. "He must have reasons."

"If you ask me, Dumbledore's gone a bit nutty these days,", groaned Ron.

"He has always trusted Snape.", marked Sirius. "From the very first moment. All the time when he jinxed random people or turned his office upside down – even when he came back after being gone to hell only knows, returning with the Dark Mark on his arm. Either that freak is a damn good actor or Dumbledore's really gone mental."

"I don't think Dumbledore has gone mental.", considered Hermione. "That man knows what he does."

"Honestly, Hermione?", Ron moaned quietly as well now, so as to not wake up the portrait. "He's forcing us to not contact Harry! And you know well that's not all!"

"He must have reasons.", Hermione repeated curtly, but fell silent when the door below opened.

"Kreacher?"

"What?", Sirius hissed. "That bastard – "

"Would you then please wait for me in Reg's sanctuary? There is something I'd need to be done as well and you appear most able."

"Anything for the Master's friend. Anything.", croaked the Elf and the door was shut again, followed by a slightly distant _crack_ as the Disapparated.

"` _The Master's –_ ´", Ron murmured quietly. "Sarcastic little git, isn't he? And what's `Reg's sanctuary´?"

"Oh not at all.", meant Sirius. "And that would be my brother Regulus' room, I reckon. He and Snape had been hanging around a lot in school. He even brought him here sometimes in summers. That's when I started disappearing off to the Potters'. Just couldn't stand another slime ball in the house. Especially when our dearest mother began to see him as a son as well."

"Your mother's liked Snape?", asked Ginny.

"Why, yes! He's been all into the Dark Arts – sympathising with – _Cissy_ – and her rotten Malfoy-boyfriend – Snape's name was more welcomed here than my entire presence. And he must have loved being mothered by the rich. Don't think his parents could afford much, telling from what he'd looked like then or those ancient hand-me-down school books he'd had. Guess, the show-off impressed my parents a little more, capable of wandless magic already early, while I _failed_ to even do stuff non-verbal until it was regularly taught at school. Or probably because I preferred red and gold over green and silver. My parents valued gold a lot, but in combination with red and lions it was like a horrible disease for them. You see, even Kreacher likes him."

"Oh well,", snapped Hermione, "If you haven't heard how he'd said that to him, he'd said it _politely_. _Might_ be a reason."

"No,"

"And what's that potion Snape mentioned?", Ron interrupted the beginning of another quarrel.

"I already _told_ you, Ron. _I have no idea_ what he was talking about.", she hissed convincingly, though fearing that she would blush again. "If Dumbledore sees something good in Snape, we should do as well. Even if you can't, I can see why he would want him in the Order. I don't know why or how, but he seemed to have managed getting You-Know-Who's trust. Considering that, he would be the only one able to tell us about our enemies' plans. Even you said that once, Sirius, remember? Dumbledore might be addicted to sweets, but that doesn't make him lunatic."

"Addicted to sweets?", Ginny frowned.

"Oh come on. That's common news.", Hermione huffed grumpily. "But it's not the point. As your mother said, we shouldn't fight against our own kind. Dumbledore trusts Snape, which means he certainly seems to have useful and reliable information for the Order."

"Do you trust Snape?", chuckled Ginny.

"I trust Dumbledore.", said Hermione, crossing her arms to emphasise her faith. "Yes, Sirius, maybe Snape's a good actor or a Pure-Blood Supremacist, but as long as we don't know for sure which side of him is played and which not, we can only rely on Dumbledore's belief. After all _he_ has proven to get it right many times."

"Did he tempt you with chocolate or what?", Sirius snickered jokingly.

"You really are a moron.", she snarled at him, noticing slight warmth rising in her face. "And a jealous one even."

"Jealous?"

"I'm not stupid. You don't like him because your parent's preferred him above their own son."

"Why the hell should I be jealous? No one in their right mind could fancy being liked by my parents,"

"And if he liked your brother, it's only natural that he snaps at you in return for blaming him for that. So just because you used to have a childish grudge on each other, which apparently broke out anew over the past weeks, it doesn't mean he's an arsehole through and through."

The following silence shocked Hermione as well. Realising what she had just said, she finally blushed heavily. Had she said – had she actually – but she was right, wasn't she? He _had_ proven that he could be very different from what he made everyone believe he was like.

"I – now don't look at me like that.", she sighed. "You know what I mean.", when the bewildered silence wouldn't wear off, she turned on her heels and fled upstairs.

"Did she actually just defend Snape?", Ginny noticed.

"It more bothers me that she said `arsehole.", Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You know her longer, Ron. Did she ever use that word? Because, as far as _I_ know her, she has a talent to form the most complicated sentences just to avoid even light swear words."

"True. I can't remember her having used that word before.", Ron considered. "And if she had, she must have done it so faintly and subdued I didn't notice. Believe me, I would have noticed and kept honouring that moment ever after."

Falling onto her bed, tears of fury in her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. It wasn't a beautiful sight, but studying the details of broken elements in the house could be quite interesting when having to kill time while the Order held meetings. She was glad that nobody had followed her. Though just in case, she had pushed a chest of drawers in front of the door. Confused about herself, she tried to analyse what had just happened. Using a swear word like this wasn't her. Either the guys really had a bad influence on her or they had hit a wound poi- no. What was actually wrong with her? If he could continue like nothing had ever happened, why couldn't she go on in the same, careless manner?

There was this image again. What had it been? What had been on his mind when he had stared at the oven back then? What had he been thinking when they had shared that dance a year later? Why had he defended her in such a; admittedly; charming way in front of his friend or Dumbledore? What had it been that had made him apologise for his behaviour? Why had he calmed her down when Harry had returned to the entrance of the maze? She wasn't stupid and he knew that. Why had he decided to put down an obvious mask in certain moments? And why was he so eager to hide his good side all the other time? Was it really just to gain Voldemort's full trust? Did he deny his emotions just for that? Because he had known the moment of his return to come?

Dumbledore had always pointed out that if there was one thing that Voldemort didn't understand, it was love, because he had never been loved. But suppressing care, just to keep everyone away from the claws of evil – if that really was Severus Snape – everyone should admire him. She wouldn't be able to do something like that. It must be something – big – no – huge – something very strong – some very strong love that kept him continuing. But what? What would he love? Who would he love?

Again, she came to the conclusion that she knew nothing about their Potions Master. But if he really did what she just thought about, wouldn't it be dangerous for all of them if she tried to get confirmation? With a sigh, she looked at the clock. More than half an hour had passed since they had left the kitchen. She heard Sirius' raised voice.

"You're still alive? Damn George. It seems we both lost."

"Sirius!", she could hear Mrs Weasley yelling. "Leave him and get in. You got to hear that. As for you lot – to your rooms! Honestly!"

"Am I allowed to use the toilet first?", Ginny snarled.

"Now don't be silly, dear.", the kitchen door fell shut again.

"Thank you.", Hermione heard the guys run upstairs, past her room, doors being shut ferociously with the last sound that had been necessary.

" _Forlorn blood-traitor freaks! Half-breed mud! You scum-lovers! Leave my noble h-_ "

"Shut your filth spitting frigging trap, you wayward paint waste of a goddamnED bitch! This is not your house anymore!", Hermione choked, her eyes wide open in shock and surprise – Snape was still there, and _how!_

"Whow!", Ginny gasped at the uncommon phrasing. "Great one, Professor."

"Thank you."

There was a long pause in which his voice echoed in Hermione's head. It made her wonder, what those Gaelic words had meant, that he had said to Dumbledore in the tent. Maybe she should ask McGonagall before she left, just for a try.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Professor?"

"Indeed, yes. You only have _one_ mother."

"Pardon?"

"You understood me quite well. Now go to your so desired toilet and think about how you treat the woman who has given birth to you and raised you, loving you unconditionally."

There. There it was. A caring statement. He would have never said something as moral as this in front of a class, would he? But why to Ginny as well? Ginny's angry running steps stopped after she slammed the bathroom door behind her, one floor below their room. Hermione sighed heavily. After all he was right. She had in fact been a bit rude to her mo- Hermione's heart sank. Even though she was lying on her back, it had felt like it had fallen down to her bowel. Four quiet knocks on the door. The next moment she was on her feet, hurrying over, trying to push the chest of drawers aside and flinging the door open – only to find an empty staircase, torn between anger about having locked the door so effectively and sadness on having managed to let him walk away. Disappointed, she lowered her head, a little thing causing her heart to jump back up again.

A folded piece of paper laid between her feet. He must have shoved it beneath the door while she had pushed away the furniture. With another safety glance outside, she picked it up and closed the door. Curious, she unfolded it and read the words, hastily written across it with a pencil.

 _Mind my words and your temper. No one must know. It is crucial. Get rid of the potion. Drinking it now would kill you. Should you ever actually feel the need for another saving, you know the rule. Just do not overuse it then. It is as addicting as spearmint chocolate. And burn this paper._

 _Her_ temper? Who had just thrown a whole load of swearing at old Mrs Black's portrait? Footsteps. She only had time to fold the paper and put it into the pocket of her jeans, when there was a brief knock on the door. Hurrying to the bed happened equally fast. Laid down on her back again, she answered. The door was opened and Ginny peered in.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes.", Hermione sighed and the other girl entered, closing the door behind.

"He's gone. Snape, I mean. They're now telling Sirius what he told them.", she sat down on her bed. "We definitely need to kill that bastard.", Hermione's head rushed to her, finding her sitting rigid, legs crossed, her eyes staring at the wall. "That war – or whatever it is – is changing too many people in ways I don't really fancy.", she looked at Hermione, "Even you.", and noticed something. "Am I going mad too or has this chest of drawers moved since midday?"

"I considered locking the door with it."

"You could have locked it magically,"

"I don't think it would be wise if underage people used magic in a safe house."

"That's minor magic. Stuff we're allowed to practice in our holidays. You should know better, right? And not that there're any Muggles around, are there? The Ministry won't – "

"Still it's underage wizardry in a place that isn't supposed to exist."

"Fine. I'll try to get Sirius remembering where the key had gone. I don't like the thought of my brothers having free entrance to our room. We can't lock out Fred and George, but keeping Ron away is a small victory already."

"Yes. His boredom makes him a pest."

"Well, I offered my help."

"I know.", squinted Hermione. "But I think, he will get better, as soon as Harry's here."

"Yeah. Question – did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Snape."

"As if not. There's hardly anything you _don't_ hear through the walls of this house, if it isn't quiet enough or your mother prevented it."

"Sure. So? What do you think, we're to expect?"

"At Hogwarts, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I don't know. I don't think, he will lose his _temper_ too often."

"You do? I mean, he did in front of everyone in that tent – and in the Hospital Wing – and I can't recall he's ever used such words like down there. Especially not so many in one sentence."

"Nor do I, but that doesn't mean, he cannot behave. You have seen and heard the trouble she causes; even Sirius has his problems with her. And Snape,"

"Literally shut her up, yes. Still it would be interesting to see. _And_ hear."

Not only due to their giggling, neither heard the front door open again. It was done so silently that Mrs Black either failed to notice it another time, or was simply too shocked from that encounter; nor did she give the slightest hint of knowing that someone went downstairs. Everyone startled when he pushed the kitchen door and quietly closed it the second after.

"I thought, that thing was gone!", the man furthest down the table murmured.

"Hold your breath, Plush-Snout. They still need that air to breathe in here.", the cold words hit and Sirius wanted to continue the quarrel, but Mrs Weasley gave him a look that couldn't have been any closer to a death threat.

"What are you still doing here?", Minerva asked, like the others, watching him walk over to the dresser and take two slices of bread from a basket.

"Change of plan.", he got himself some well picked cheese, the half tomato left from Molly's cooking as well as two lettuces of green salad from the fridge, which he briefly washed. "I considered, it might not hurt to have the one or other friend. Or as it is, they will believe so.", all eyes were on him as he cut the tomato into three evenly thick slices and put them on top of the cheese and salad on one bread, onto which be placed the second with a nice additional push.

"And who might that be?"

"That is my business, Minerva.", she frowned when he lifted the upper bread slice again and sprinkled some salt and pepper between. "No one else's."

He then took off his cloak and folded it neatly to a rectangular pile which he placed at the edge of the dresser, right next to the sink. The same he did with his robe and pulled a black pouch from the pocket of his trousers; his arm went deep in. Now everyone was frowning at the bigger briefcase he got from it and placed left to his pile. Next things were a slightly oversized black jacket and a dark blue tie. Lost in thoughts, he bound the tie and put on the jacket. Then he took a lunchbox from the briefcase, cut the bread in half and carefully placed it inside, noticing that there was still some space. Considering, his eyes flicked to the fridge. A few steps and the door was open. Just to his satisfaction, cut in half, a cucumber laid inside. He grabbed it, plus some radishes, slipped the pink balls into the box and cut some slices off the cucumber as well. Those he stacked evenly in the still empty space, closed the lunchbox and put the rest of the vegetables back into the fridge.

"And what are you touching our food for?", Sirius growled.

"Don't worry.", Snape moaned when putting the box into the briefcase and his other clothes into the pouch. "Momma Molly will wash it for baby Paddy so he won't die from cancer but live a long, long life."

"Now will you two stop it?", she barked. "You're worse than my actual children!"

"As I said, may you suffocate from it.", Sirius ignored her.

"I am not willing to grant you that pleasure.", Severus went on as well, brushing his oily hair together at the back of his head with his hands. "Besides, you are not nearly good enough at placing bets on my death.", a black rubber band he had worn hidden under his right sleeve, now bound his thick hair to a ponytail. "If you excuse me now, I should not be late for this particular political tryst."

In mid turn; still not looking at anyone; he reached for the strap of the briefcase and went for the door. But before he could close it behind him, Remus was on his feet, having taken only a few huge steps to reach the door.

"Wait.", he said quietly. "I need a word with you before you go."

"Is it urgent?", Severus murmured.

"Quite, yes."

"What are you doing, Remus? Do you have your wand with you? You know you can't just – "

"For _once_ , keep it to yourself, Sirius, honestly. We aren't kids anymore.", Remus gnarled.

"Oh I don't know – he's still the same slimy slug, you see?"

The door was shut behind them and they were alone in the narrow, dusty corridor. In a moment of near silence; Molly was ranting at Sirius, muffled by the door; they looked at each other, Severus waiting for Remus to say something. When he was close to explode from impatience, Remus would finally raise his voice.

"Severus – ", he seemed to fight with something. "Just – ignore him."

"Actually, it is great fun to hold a mirror against his face and see how much he is incapable of dealing with his own flaws. So if that was all,"

"No, it's not all.", sighed Remus. "Whom are you spying on?"

"That is, as I said, _my_ business."

"Alright, alright.", Remus gave an awkward nod at the wall. "Just be careful.", a little bored but still, Severus frowned.

"I may cry.", he murmured.

"No, really – I mean that. I don't know how many lives you have, but the Prime Minister's got only one. If anybody sees you having a snack with – "

"And why do you ask, if Albus already told you what he wants me to do?"

"He didn't tell me, exactly."

"Wonderful.", Severus huffed. "Eavesdropping, like a child. Great."

"I didn't mean to."

"Oh surely you didn't. I am fully convinced. _Is that all_ , Remus?", he opened his mouth in protest but couldn't find any more words to say. "Fine. As I said as well, I am rather in a hurry.", he spun around and marched for the front door.

"Severus?", very slow, Severus turned.

"Yes?", he said similarly.

"That – looks good on you.", Remus threw him a single nod on the clothes.

Not knowing what to reply either, Severus' expression became something that couldn't actually be read. It was somewhere between confused, flattered and exhausted. His dark eyes stared at Remus as if he was some sort of hallucination. Though he then shortly blinked at him, took a deep breath and left.

~~#~~


	9. Chapter 8 - The Toad and the Snake

– Chapter 8 –

 **The Toad and the Snake**

Constantly and consistently like the ticking of a grandfather clock, pages after pages were flipped by a girl's fingers. The dim light of the lamp shone spookily on her gloomy figure in the heart of silent darkness. Growing, a pile of books to her left, shrinking, the one to her right. Hard for her to admit, the words and their letters were already going to her head. It couldn't be so difficult. It _couldn't_. But right then, another book had become frustration in vain and found its way firmly to the top of the left pile. Five more to go. Then she would give up and continue the search tomorrow. Five more to – a surprised squeal escaped her.

"Doing some extra work already, Miss Granger? So early in the term?"

"What the – ?", she panted and turned; he had snuck up from behind so incredibly silent, even a falling needle would have made more noise.

"What a nice excuse for breaking rules, such a Prefect's badge is.", he sang with boredom, leant against the writing board at the shelf behind her, forcing her to turn her chair as well so she wouldn't crack her neck.

"Breaking rules, might apply, Sir.", Hermione said grim.

"Is this a confession, Miss Granger?", he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"I am merely trying to do something for the students' wealth.", she snapped and devoted to the next book, hoping he wouldn't taunt her for the ignorance.

"By scanning the wrong books?", Snape huffed and rose. "Very useful, indeed.", she watched him disappear in the dark behind a shelf, and though curious, she couldn't resist the book she had just taken. "One might think, you knew all these books by heart already, considering the time you have spent in here within your four years of education.", she could hear him pulling books, assumingly three rows down. "An advice, Miss Granger, sometimes even the logical is not the right. _Madam Pince_ , has rearranged some things over the summer.", he returned with a steady pace. "Regular school books are now – ", Hermione had to lift her current book to prevent him from ballasting it with a pile of seven, "All together. And those abandoned, are a row further."

"Those are – outdated versions?", she stared along the worn off spines. "Of the book series – we had! Oh my – "

"Defence Against the Dark Arts school books according to curriculum, used from nineteen twenty to nineteen seventy-eight; or probably a little longer.", he said cold, with his nose held high and his arms crossed again.

"Sir – "

"Believe me, her book is far more outdated than those. Be glad that we share an enemy, Miss Granger. Try not to let her get hold of those. Irma and I are working on a spell that will ban specifically her and her alone. If she should start to pry into the library, Albus could just as well close this school right away."

"Sir – ", Hermione aspirated, "Are you – _plotting_ against her? Would you actually – join a – _conspiracy_ – against Dolores Umbridge?"

"I have no idea, what you are talking about.", he sang and turned to leave.

"Sir!", chuckled Hermione, stood up and peeked after him as he walked down the dark corridor, not believing that he had just done that.

"Sort in those uselessnesses where they belong, hide the treasure thoroughly, douse the light and try to avoid Peeves. He is exceptionally nasty tonight. If I should catch him, I will try to persuade him paying a certain office a visit. _Good night_."

" _Sir!_ ", she had caught up running at the entrance. "One more question – "

"Yes?", Snape stopped and, just a bit, turned to the left.

"How did you find him?", his pale white face was questioning her too. "Harry – when – when Barty Crouch took him – "

"Presence."

"Presence?", he held his left arm to his chest just like he had done in the tent. "You – you felt him? Death Eaters can feel one another? Through the Mark?"

"Yes, I felt him. I felt him all the time."

"But Dumbledore – "

"Is a narrow-minded man.", Snape slackened his arms. "If he has an opinion, it can hardly be shattered."

"But he trusts you – "

"There is a big difference between acceptance, trust and unconditional faith. He has reasons to doubt me. I must daresay, I gave him plenty. Good night, Miss Granger."

He quietly opened and closed the door and was gone. Thunderstruck, Hermione gazed at the old wings she could barely locate in the dark even though they were right in front of her.

~~#~~

Many corners were in the Potions classroom. Some created by windowed alcoves, others simply cast in shadows. Normally, those corners weren't attracting at all. However, in this Monday's lesson, there was a change to one of them: it was owned by pink. As if he had indicated her place, there was a bright pink circle drawn on the floor around the chair. It took the students a while to notice and wonder whether this circle would have any influence on her behaviour. After all, she sat silent, her short legs awkwardly crossed and her flipchart on her thigh. Yet the pink quill in her right hand seemed ready to start a ferocious battle with the papers on the flipchart.

Keeping a class quiet by his mere presence, had always been his strength. So naturally, after having taken ten points from Gryffindor for Harry having tried to hold back Neville who had lost temper against Draco Malfoy, he had silenced them with a loud bang of the door, making not only the students jump and take in their seats with anxiety. Umbridge had bounced almost a hand broad from her chair, which was much, given her size. Waiting for them to get out their stuff, he stood before his desk, his fingers gently holding his wand at both ends.

"You will notice, that we have a guest with us today."

His voice was as low as usual. Though it seemed, the only one not threatened by it was Umbridge. As expected, there was her famous ` _hem, hem_ ´ cough. He remained as ignorant as McGonagall had been.

"But I see no need for you to feel distracted by her. We are continuing – "

" _Hem, hem._ "

"With our – "

" _Hem, hem_."

"Miss Abbot, I believe, you usually carry around some cough drops? Would you be so kind and help our guest in need?", he sighed.

Umbridge's face became as pink as her clothes. Subdued giggles went through the classroom.

"No need for that, Miss Abbot.", Umbridge said. "I actually wanted to ask something."

"People are to raise their hand in my class if they wish to ask, or otherwise say something.", Snape sneered, not looking at her, and everyone saw clearly that these words had been the biggest smack in her face she had ever met with.

"I don't think – "

"As I was saying,", he continued ignoring her.

" _Hem, hem!_ "

"Miss Abbot – "

"I said, there is need for that!", she sang, a little demanding and quite high. "I was only – "

" _People are to raise their hand in my class._ ", he repeated, pulling the sentence into a murmuring length.

She was bright red now and her lips curled so much they looked dangerously close to pickled red leeches. Filled with rage, she nevertheless raised her plump right arm, not letting go of the quill. The whole class was amazed by how much control he already had over her. With this, even he knew, he had earned himself some respect points from the class.

"Yes?"

"I – was asking myself – "

"Then why asking me as well?"

" _I am curious_ , why there is a pink circle around my chair?", apart from the forceful change of phrasing, she sounded almost like a child.

"It is there to make you feel at home.", it was a cold, stern statement; so cold she didn't even dare to take down a note on it. "I wonder, when you have grown breasts, Mr Finnigan?", he raised an eyebrow, making the class fall silent with confusion. "Isn't it normally a girl's characteristic to – _giggle_? So, I was wondering – have you grown breasts over the weekend? No? Then behave.", Seamus swallowed when the dark eyes pierced into his. "Well, we are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made, they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions – ", a wave of his wand over the blackboard, "On the board. Carry on."

It had been a quiet and concentrated half an hour. Umbridge had spent it with taking notes behind Snape's back, though not considering leaving her chair until then. With a concerned look at the circle of conjured pink paint, she stood up and took a cautiously slow step across. Most of the students watched her from the corners of their eyes. She placed her second foot to the side of the first and, undoubtedly, took a relieved breath, only to find it cut off by being forced back down onto the miraculously still standing chair. The general giggling returned to the class.

"Concentration, please,", Snape murmured.

" _Hem, hem._ ", this time her hand was in the air immediately, visibly feeling humiliated to something as low as a student was in her opinion.

"Yes?", he said smugly when he had turned to her with intended delay, to see that she had actually learned.

"May I – leave my seat?", she mewled quietly.

"If you can make it in the frightening world of a classroom, being at mercy of dreadful underage witches and wizards – "

"Yes, I think I am able enough.", Umbridge gnarled at him.

Giving a sigh, he flicked his wand at the ring and a tiny gap opened in it. Careful again, Umbridge stepped out and pulled a sulky face, placing a note on her flipchart. It was then, that she walked towards Parvati Patil to interrogate her.

"I have a few questions to you, Miss Patil. Would you say, Professor Snape is a good teacher?", she started in a whisper.

"Well, he sticks to the subject matter and – he has control of the class.", Parvati turned noticeably pale at an instant, which was an alarming change compared to the normal colour of her skin.

"So?", Umbridge sang quietly.

"So?", Parvati swallowed.

"Well – "

"If you knew at least a teensy bit about Potion Making, you would rather not distract Miss Patil, for your own safety.", he spoke again with one of his typical bored tones. "Her potion is close to explode."

Umbridge jumped back from the cauldron a little and Parvati panicked, putting in the ingredient she would have had to add already before Umbridge had come over. Taking another note, she strutted on, approaching Malfoy who was, as desperately as Parvati, trying to bring his rumbling cauldron to rest.

"Now, Mr – Malfoy, is that right?"

"Yes.", he grunted, giving the potion the wrong stir in his rush, making it rattle even more.

"I have acknowledged that your father and Professor Snape know one another quite well. So, what do you think? How would you rate his teaching qualities?"

"My father knows him, not I.", mumbled Malfoy, his potion was now sending out small sparks.

"What was that?"

"You know, Dolores, I do not wish anyone to disturb my students when they are about to commit mass murder due to their inability to read.", it was a clear warning. "And whatever you try, your knowledge is not enough to calm down that unfortunate thing, Mr Malfoy."

Snape went over to a shelf, picked a glass, took out something that looked like a horribly slimy stick and carried it over to Malfoy's cauldron. When he dropped it in, the cauldron instantly stopped moving and the surface of the potion rested still.

"Another possibility would have been to make it vanish completely.", Snape murmured. "But since these roots are not too expensive, I preferred you to learn. This potion is useless now though. Good luck washing it out. Five points from Slytherin.", Malfoy distorted his face. "Yes, from my own House, Malfoy.", he added hissing. "And if you clog the sink, you will clean it as well, as long as it may take you. No magic required."

That apparently cheered Umbridge up. He didn't make differences; punished everyone equally. With a little self-satisfied smirk, she made another note and went back over to her chair, though she refused to sit down or even cross the pink circle for the rest of the lessons, which went fortunately a little better and more quiet, until she decided to give it another try.

"Just two more questions, you had first applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, is that correct?", Umbridge toadied around him with regained determination when he had returned to stand in front of his desk, all heads on the two once more.

"Yes.", there was not the slightest joy in this word, his eyes staring straight through the room, giving the impression that his look could cause the wall at that end to burst any time.

"But you were unsuccessful?", her fake pity was not to be overseen and -heard.

"Obviously,", half of the class giggled under their breath again, unable to decide another time, who was less worthy to be liked.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes,", he said so thin-lipped that he very much resembled McGonagall if it hadn't been for the big difference in the amount of wrinkles on his ill-natured face.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?", she actually thought herself on the secure side.

"I suggest you ask him,", he started again, clearly separating the words when speaking.

"Oh, I shall.", the sweetest smile ever.

"I suppose this is relevant?", his eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes, yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er – backgrounds."

She went over to Pansy Parkinson, though not really able to hide that she had partly wished to escape. Not noticing that he had made a security emptying of Harry's cauldron, she questioned the girl.

"No marks again, then, Potter, you will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes.", was Harry's grumpy answer.

"And I meant,", he continued louder, gaining Umbridge's attention, "If you don't want to listen to me, I suggest you ask him about the truth. So yes, your version of the story is what any uninformed person would believe."

"What is it?"

"What I was going to say before you decided to possess enough ignorance again as to be able to interrupt me, is that you were _obviously_ not informed thoroughly – _if_ – we already are on that term."

Only his eyes were on her, the class realizing that it cost him a lot of restraint not to walk through the rows of tables and strangle her right away. Everyone saw her shrink slightly, even though no one would have believed that a woman of her size could become much smaller anymore. Nevertheless she bore the ineffable hate drilling into her eyes now.

"I _had_ applied for the position, but after some considerations, decided otherwise. You have seen what they do to their potions. Naturally, knowing this habit from my own former classmates, it was not in my interest to teach adolescent wracks phrases which would be useless if their hormone-struck minds refused to gather enough will for actually meaning to concentrate the energy they would be supposed to unleash."

"I can very well see my agreement on this.", she coughed. "Unless they know the theory – "

"Clearly,", he said very slow, "I have still not expressed myself in the right language for you to understand. Let me phrase it in a different way – learning to flawlessly recall incantations written into an obsolete book leads one nowhere if the mind is too weak to bear. In other words, don't try to shatter if you cannot take being shattered yourself."

Confusion all over the classroom. Umbridge faintly swallowed, trying to keep her eyes from popping out. Hermione couldn't stop her hand raising slowly.

"Yes, Miss Granger?", he murmured, not taking his dark marbles off Umbridge.

"So that means, if one isn't willing enough to defend themselves, they can neither attack properly?"

"Almost.", a disappointed chuckle.

"You should only attempt to kill if you don't fear death, because otherwise you wouldn't succeed, but rather be dead yourself?", now all eyes were on her. "What!", she hissed around.

"That is an interesting way to spin it on, Granger. But yes, it would quite likely be that way. Only, my thoughts were going into a _slightly_ less fatal direction.", everyone stared at him again.

"It seems to me, your students are highly interested in your assumptions. So, if you would explain it in _their language_ as, like you stated, they are incapable of thinking properly?", Umbridge grinned artificially, but the bell rang off her desperate attempt to ask without looking dumber than she already did.

"Don't forget to hand in your probes.", he threw a scornful smile and turned away from her to rummage in the drawers of his desk while the students bottled their flasks and cleaned up.

Umbridge just stood there, clinging to her flipchart. She seemed to have totally forgotten to take notes. Now Snape sat down behind the desk, placed his wand on it and searched the lower drawers. Hermione nearly dropped her probe in front of the stand on his desk when he gave her a short, hair-covered glance from below. She knew that he had only meant to threaten Umbridge and tell her that her methods were rubbish. But she, insolent enough, would have gone as far as making him butcher her unequivocally. She wasn't one of those weak people he had described; not at all. Or more, sadistic enough to suffer terribly just for sacking as many teachers as possible. Though she hadn't bargained on him, or even McGonagall. They were more than a match for her.

Having packed a little slower than the others, making sure she would be last out after Malfoy who needed a bit more time to wash his cauldron, Hermione let herself fall back right when she couldn't see into the classroom anymore. To her luck, none of her classmates noticed it. Nevertheless, she hid behind one of the big stone statues in alcoves outside, listening closely. Umbridge's shoes clattered over the stone floor, coming to halt a bit further away from the door.

"Yes?", she heard him saying. "Is there anything more you'd like to ask me?"

"Oh yes, there is.", Umbridge's high pitched voice when she was slightly panicked, wasn't as delightful as desired. "I believe, you question my methods.", Hermione heard him shutting another drawer.

"Would that be a crime?", he sneered.

"I am the Undersecretary of the Minister. Questioning me is equal to questioning the Minister himself."

"If so, what would you do, hmm?", he whispered.

Hermione, hearing him walk, couldn't resist. Silently she stepped out of her hiding place and peered into the room, the potions book held tight to her chest with both arms. Hoping they wouldn't spot her, she watched him approaching Umbridge slowly, his long black cloak and hair making him no less frightening than a Dementor, not only because his hair fell so deep into his face that Hermione couldn't even see the tip of his nose from where she stood. The already cool Dungeon air was palpably freezing. Umbridge took a step back, only three feet from one of the shelves on the; seen from the door; left side of the classroom. It was filled with massive glasses, containing things that wouldn't look beautiful when having hit the floor. He stopped, about the length of his desk away from her.

"What would you do, if I questioned his sanity?", no words in reply. "Do I sense a waft of fear?"

"You don't scare me, Snape.", she raised her chin and chest, but failed to impress him.

"No? Well, that makes me a little glad, you see?", he stepped closer, making her back off again, only a hand broad away from the shelf now. "Because,", he took off his cloak and threw it in a high bow over to the desk, where it landed gently, "I don't like to waste my time and energy for teaching people who do not ask for a lesson. You, I must say,", he half unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up to his elbows, "Downright beg for it."

He placed his hands above his head against the shelf, just enough distance between them that no part of their bodies would touch. Umbridge however, had met with the shelf, glasses shaking dangerously. But his hands' touch against the shelf seemed enough to prevent their fall. Portraying a very pathetic defence, she held her flipchart to her chest. It looked like a black snake was about to swallow a pink toad in whole. Her brown eyes widened with panic, staring on the inside of his left forearm.

"The world, as it happens, is a huge board and every single being, living or dead, has their own team on it. When they clash, it is called war. You do good not to lose too many of your soldiers, as you will stand alone, without a single ally. _Because_ , believe it or not, there are people carrying a nasty weapon. It is called `willpower´. And _I_ – have a lot of it. In my few years on this planet, I have seen people like you coming and going. They came with pride and went shortly after, crumbled to a picture of misery."

"Trying to threaten me will only result in things you surely do not wish to experience", she sang, not looking as unconcerned as she wished to.

"Likewise.", Snape countered, very slow and clearly pronounced.

"Yes?"

"Yesss.", he hissed excessively. "I can do things to you which your brain is quite possibly not capable of packing into your worst nightmares. You can call yourself lucky that I will wait until the very last moment. I _will_ resist much. Though I advise you, do not even consider _trying_ to discover where the border lies, and especially, _don't step across_. For your own wealth, yes. It won't end nice; that much I can say. Provoke me a little too often or heavily and you will wish your parents had never been in bed together. But as far as I take it, you have been wishing that already since you knew what your brother was."

Even Hermione was troubled by Umbridge's expression. Certainly he had hit a nerve. But what was her brother?

"I have no brother.", she had pressed that sentence out so quietly it had only been audible due to its clear repulsion.

"Just like you have no father anymore, right?", she didn't counter. "Yes, I know everything about you."

"You know nothing, Snape.", Umbridge snapped quietly and disgruntled, but her fear remained.

"We will see. Now, unless you have any more things to ask about – _my background_ ,", he gently pushed himself off, bending his left arm; slightly lowered; towards the door, his open palm up – Hermione could see the big jet black Mark Umbridge had stared at, "You may leave."

The look on her face didn't change either when she turned on pink high heels, the flipchart still against her chest and the pink quill in the hand of her limply dangling right arm. Hermione ducked away and scurried behind the statue, holding her breath in panic. But Umbridge just minced past, not noticing her. She waited until her shoes vanished on the spiral staircase to the upper floors and sighed with relief.

Trying to understand what she had just watched, she stepped sideways out of her hiding place – and froze. There was something small pressed against her temple. Moving only her eyes to the right, she saw that it was the tip of a long black wand. Its owner leaned against the corridor wall, the right leg swung over the left. His left elbow rested on his right fist, holding his wand rather languidly in the left hand, though firm enough to make the tip drill. His face was at the opposite wall.

"I will light a candle in memory of your forsaken sanity.", he whispered angrily. "Play the trombones! We need to honour terribly lost intelligence.", Hermione swallowed. "I could just cut it out of your brain, you know? Believe me, if it wasn't you, I _would_ do it. But somehow a voice in my head tells me not to.", a short pause. "I leave you the option to forget it yourself.", he took a deep breath and pulled back his wand, turning his head down the corridor, away from her. "Five points to Gryffindor, for the mere luck that she didn't see you.", Snape snarled. "Now get off!"

Not daring to look back, Hermione sprinted towards the staircase. She winced, the moment she set foot on the first step. The classroom door was slammed shut. A muffled, furious scream. The sound of bottles filled with liquid being smashed to the stone floor. Her thoughts not where she was, she hurried up for lunch, just looking to the floor some yards ahead, still embracing her book and her heavy shoulder bag dangling carelessly beside her.

"Hermione's back.", Ron whispered, making Harry turn.

"Back? What do you mean with `back´?"

"Look at her! She's just like in our first year! The way she walks, I mean.", it was actually stomping.

"What happened?", Harry asked when she had sat down, trying to figure out where she was. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

"What?", she gasped and stared at him as though he wasn't there – not letting go of the book.

"I said, are you okay?"

"Oh – yes –yes. I'm fine."

"What's with the potions book?"

"Potions book?"

"Hello – ", Ron waved in front of her face, leaning over the table. "Is Hermione here?"

"What the – ?", now she was, though still held the book. "Yes, I _am_ here.", she snorted.

"What happened?", Harry repeated.

"What's supposed to have happened, according to you?", she snapped back. "Nothing happened. I was just in thoughts."

"Just.", Harry chuckled. "Looked rather like you've been raped by Snape and Umbridge together,"

"What?", she shrieked, some heads turning to her. "Don't be silly now! Can't someone just be in thoughts?"

"And _what_ were you thinking of?", Harry smirked.

"That's really none of your business.", she hissed.

"Uh oh – Hermione's got her days.", Ron giggled subdued and was hit with the book. "Ow! Bloody hell! You're learning from Snape – that's not good – "

~~#~~

Breakfast. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, _wonderful_ breakfast. And like many times in Hogwarts, there was a topic spreading like wildfire. The fifth-years had told almost everyone over the past days what had happened in Snape's class. It had been ever since then, that Umbridge had _strangely_ decided to sit closest to the wall, at the other end of the staff table, far away from their new predestined hero. Though nobody except Hermione knew about the events after the lesson and therefore the conversations were more or less the same.

"He owned her! I mean – really!", Seamus chuckled under his breath to Nigel.

"Yeah. It's – okay, it doesn't make Snape any better,", Ron joined in, "But for that – I think I love him.", Hermione choked.

"Give it a rest, okay?", Harry grunted, back in one of his recent bad moods, not only because they were supposed to hand in the essay today.

"Even _you_ have to admit, that the lesson had something positive to it. Umbridge got lashed, Malfoy cost Slytherin some points – ", he counted on his fingers, "I think, I can't even complain about the horrible mark I'll get for that potion. I never thought I'd say that, but in this case, Snape's brilliant."

"I said, give it a resT!", Harry barked, shocked himself right after as most heads in the hall rushed at him.

"Whow!", Ron startled with widely opened eyes, slightly sliding away from him on the bench.

"Harry – ", Hermione aspirated quietly, seriously concerned. "What's wrong with y-"

"You think, there's something wrong with me?", he hissed at her, chaffing his teeth, seemingly having forgotten his own shock at an instant.

"I – "

" _Well?_ "

"Would you mind lowering your voice?"

"Why. You think it bothers anyone here?", he snarled.

"Harry – "

"I'm not in the mood for discussing, alright?"

"Obviously not.", Hermione moaned when Harry stood up and stormed out of the hall.

"What's really up with him?", murmured Ron.

"I have no idea.", she shook her head.

That moment, a noise almost shot her ears. The Weasley twins had started playing a new version of Exploding Snap with Dean, Seamus and Lee. Those cards they invented were less fatal, though exploded with an increasing frequency the longer the game lasted. As long as they didn't hurt anyone, should they, thought Hermione and continued eating, wondering why she didn't feel the urge to intervene.

"And what's wrong with _him_?"

Lavender tore her from her considerations. She found the girl pointing quite flagrantly up to the staff table.

"Take your hand down!", hissed Hermione. "You can't just point up there!", a little scared she seemed, when she obeyed and dedicated to her breakfast again.

Another card exploded and Hermione saw what she had meant. Watching him from the corner of her eye to not appear too obvious, she slowly began to realise that it was the noise. Reading some magazine, he squinted every time a card gave a sound and the more often the noises came, the worse it got. When they exploded less than every ten seconds over the laughter of the players, he already winced at it, clutching his fingers to fists. Unfortunately, his hair hung too deep in his face now and she couldn't see it any longer. But by the way he moved his head and the concerned look Professor Burbage to his left gave him, she knew that it wasn't anger. Something clicked in her mind.

"Will you stop it!", she yelled down the table and a whole pile flew in the air with an enormous crack, ending the game eventually anyway.

"Hermione! You made it blast!", chuckled George. "Incredible.", he shook his head. "Guess, we gotta work on that. Note to the brain, Fred, screaming girls hurt the cards."

"You deviant idiots!"

She just shook her head and looked back up to the staff table, in time to not miss an actually grateful glance. Curling her lips, she ate the last bite and borrowed the _Prophet_ from Ron. Though the letters were there, but didn't reach her. Her thoughts were with him and what she had discovered last Easter. Demonising the Ministry, she shut the paper and handed it back after about fifteen minutes of pointless page-skipping. It was then that the sound of shoes approached them from the face of the hall.

A few yards ahead, Snape walked through between the middle rows, his hair and cloak bumping and waving like usual. As fast as the tight skirt around her plump legs could allow her, she strutted after him, her clipboard to her left. Midway through the hall he came to halt. Raising his eyebrow, he slowly turned around and waited for her to close up. A definite look on her round face, she stopped about three feet in front of him, just staring up.

After some seconds of breathtaking silence in the entire hall, she pulled a number of pink papers, bracketed together. Her short hand stretched out, she held the report under his nose. Still not lowering his eyebrow, he picked and skimmed it, the rest of his expression just like hers. Then, visible for only half the people in the hall, a satisfied smirk crossed his lips.

"It pleases me to see, that we finally speak the same language."

There was nothing but calmness in his voice. Nevertheless he ripped the report into many pieces while he said that and by the second he languidly threw them into the air, they burst into little flames, falling to the ground as gleaming trumpery of ash. Umbridge scrunched up her nose and gave him a wide berth when she flounced on.

"Yeah. He definitely owns her.", Dean muttered with a grin.

"What was that?", she stopped at the fifth-year Gryffindors now.

"Noting, Ma'am."

"Oh there was something. So, would you repeat that, Mr Thomas? Or do you wish to follow me into detention right away for this illegal game of yours?"

"It's not _my_ game,"

Though it was Snape who followed her, his walk almost leisurely when he strode along the Gryffindor table, heads turning after him. While he drew near, he elegantly pulled his wand from his left sleeve, holding it like he always did before he wrote instructions on the blackboard. Completely stiff, Umbridge noticed the new direction of students' looks, spun on her heels and faced him, her stringent expression unchanged. Her head slid slightly back on her short neck, when he lazily raised his wand, not lowering the empty hand either.

"You surely do not want this.", her eyes gaped as he spoke with his low voice, the tip of his black wand only fingers away from her forehead.

"I beg your pardon?", she sang in her high-pitched tone.

"How can you tolerate such a mess?", he gave his wand a tiny flick and the bundle of hair that had rolled out a bit, flipped back into its usual curl. "A lot better, don't you think?"

Umbridge's lips became as thin as McGonagall's when angry, in front of her teeth, which were tightly pressed together. She still stared at where his head had been when he left the hall, the narcissistic smile now visible to the other side. Hermione could swear he did a perfect catwalk – if it hadn't been for his bagging cloak hiding his legs from her view. He had obviously come over the effect of the card game. However, he stopped in the middle of his way from Umbridge to the doors.

"What the – ?", Ron whispered as he too had spotted the face that was peeking in.

Snape threw a fleeting, concerned look over his shoulder to the huffing Umbridge, who now strutted back to the staff table, apparently not willing to leave the Great Hall through the same door as he did. Then Snape continue walking, a little faster and less arrogant. At the door, he reached out with his left arm and grabbed Lupin by the collar, dragging him in direction of the Dungeons. Shortly after, Umbridge was gone through the backdoor of the hall.

"What's he doing here?", Ron muttered quietly to Hermione. "And how can Snape dare to do that to him?"

"Probably some very important Order business.", Ginny ignored his add.

"But drag-"

"They are adults. Let them drag one another wherever they like to.", Hermione though panted, Ron blinking at her when a paper plane came soaring through the gilded doors and landed right before Fred, who unfolded it with utter curiosity.

"What's that?", asked Seamus.

"A – a note from – ", stammered George.

"From whom? What's it say?"

" _Twenty-five points off Gryffindor for the dangerous idiocy of testing an updated version of a banned card game right under the wrinkly nose of the luckily otherwise engaged personal hound dog of our very beloved Minister. Thank the inventor of the Confundus Charm_."

~~#~~


	10. Chapter 9 - Fall

– Chapter 9 –

 **Fall**

Blood red glowing fog everywhere. Voices deafening him. Dark eyes drilling into his. So familiar. Seen in so many nights. Always the same. The same air, the same face, the same mirror covering it. The same locket dangling, always. The locket fell. Unlike last times, it made a sound again. It was chinking like a hundred high windows breaking, echoing in a space that only existed in his head, that much he was aware of by now. Conscious enough. Everything went dark. The noise remained.

Blind and clumsy, he reached for the old alarm clock on his bedside table. More chinking.

"Mo chreach – ", he growled, realising what had fallen to the floor.

More frustrated, he found the clock at last and even managed to make it stop ringing. But the sound had penetrated his ears so painfully, he could still hear it. No, the clock had started again. With a grunt, he seized it another time and threw it into the room as hard as his weak arm could. A loud clank and clattering and it fell silent. Blowing a relieved snort, he turned to the wall and pulled the blanket back up over his head. He would repair the things later..later, he thought, trying to shut away the guilt..lock out the voices..later..later..green eyes..a smile..so happy..so beautiful..so far away..and ever so close..green eyes..happiness..later..not now..later..later...

~~#~~

"That's not good. That's not good at all."

"You're doing it again, Hermione.", Harry sighed and pulled back his wrist she had grabbed for checking his watch.

"He's fifteen minutes too late!"

"Drop it, Umbridge.", said Ron who played cards with him. "Maybe he drowned, or something. You should be glad."

"No, I'm not, Ron! We are Prefects! And that's not funny! If a teacher comes more than ten minutes too late, one of us has to go looking for them and offer help, or otherwise report the case and the other has to watch the class meanwhile. Come on, go looking for him. I'll keep them at hold."

"I won't go looking for Snape!", Ron hissed. "I'd rather fall asleep, cuddling one of Neville's pet plants!", Neville blushed and pulled the small pot he had studied, very close, just as if he was meaning to shield it from Ron's words. "It's not my problem if he's late. You're making me lose the game, if you don't stop it. I'll never forgive you that."

"Oh do what you want. I'll go checking. Just take care of the class."

"We're not the only Prefects in this class. Why can't any of the others – "

"You are such an egocentric Ghoul, Ronald.", Hermione huffed, jumped up with her wand in hand and stormed out of the classroom.

"Blimey. If it wasn't Snape, I'd think she was in love with him.", he shook his head. "Damn it, Harry! That was unfair! I wasn't prepared!"

"Your bad,", Harry just meant with a suppressed smirk.

"And how! I think, I'll really never forgive her."

She could still hear them argue through the open classroom door, but didn't care. Her concern growing, she stomped along the stone statues and blue torches, towards a door she hadn't halted at for a long time. Gathering all her wits, she took a deep breath and knocked four times. No answer. Impatient, she crossed her arms, curled her lips and waited, tapping her foot on the ancient tiles beneath. Unwilling to wait longer, she knocked again and – rattled the handle. The door wouldn't open for her, of course.

Letting out a frustrated snort, she began to run. Past the still open door where several curious heads turned, she hurried down some corridors and more stairs until she finally reached a specific painting. Panting a little, she stroked the pear and it swung open. Many big eyes were on her instantly.

"Dobby?", she asked into the gigantic kitchen.

"Dobby is here, Miss.", squeaked the Elf and came shuffling from behind a table.

"Oh wonderful! Can you do me – a favour – please?"

"Anything, Miss!", the little being beamed.

"Can you check – whether – Professor Snape – is in – his office – or private – rooms?"

"The Professor ordered a fast breakfast, Miss. Dobby has sent it personally. A cup of tea, and a bread with goat cheese, some slices of a tomato and cucumber, Miss. The empty plate and cup came back five minutes ago."

"Five – five minutes? Oh my god – thank you, Dobby!", she spun on the heels and rushed out.

"Any time, Miss!", Dobby called after her before the canvas fell shut.

As fast as she could, she ran all the way back to the classroom. The pain in her side was almost killing her when she slid to halt in front of the closed door. Taking some seconds for breathing, she supported herself with a hand on the wall, brushed her bushy hair into a kind of position she thought wouldn't look too awkward and opened the door. Her classmates were already cutting ingredients and turned to her when she staggered to her seat.

Black oily curtains hanging down like waterfalls, framed his pale face like they did so often. His arms on the side rests and one leg swung over the other, he sat behind the desk, leant into the ebony chair.

"Good morning, Miss Granger.", he sneered, very quiet above the sound of the clattering knives. "Thank Potter for his courage of taking the loss of five points for making excuses for you. As charming as your concern may be, I think I know best when to turn up in my class, don't you think? Now sit down and start working."

"I feared he might take off fifty if I hadn't said something.", mumbled Harry when she began to cut her own grass, yet a little out of breath.

"I might actually do so, if you don't keep your mouth shut and concentrate. I am not sure whether I will carry you to the Hospital Wing, if you should lose a finger to your own stupidity."

Both students contorted their mouths in understanding of each other and decided not to drop any single word throughout the course of the period.

~~#~~

Too difficult, thought Hermione, flipping pages after pages. Since she had to keep the source secret, she couldn't go through it in the common room, and due to Parvati and Lavender filling their dormitory with giggles all throughout free hours instead of doing homework, there was no chance she could concentrate on finding accurate spells. She wondered how they always managed to hand in their papers.

So far, Umbridge had no evidence. Yes, she might have somehow figured out that a group of students was training against her will, but there was no proof and as long as there was no proof and that shimmering pink line on the floor beneath the doors of the library, she was on a safe path.

"And that really works?", what was _she_ doing here? "Are you sure?", and why was she hissing so secretive?

"Quite certainly, yes.", he said and by pricking up her ears, Hermione could tell he was smirking rather satisfied.

"So we are safe here?"

"If you wish, I can draw such a line at your office door as well."

"Have you done it at yours?"

"Actually I see no way she could enter, but you never know. So, yes, I have."

"Incredible.", they finally passed Hermione's row and she could see McGonagall shake her head as they turned left into the mirroring area. "That we already have to hide in the library to be granted some privacy."

"I know another place, but since I have no clue when they will have a meeting, it would be unadvised to use it frequently, and in addition, far too suspicious. Besides, I believe, she has found some spies. I just don't know who they are yet. Her skills are quite a match to some of mine and that there has been a change in her life, does not alter anything in our relationship."

"A change? What change?", Hermione didn't believe her eyes when she saw them sitting down on the writing board, rather than the chairs in front and letting their legs dangle down.

"Tea?", he asked, apparently not willing to speak about that certain topic any further and pulled his notorious pouch from his trousers.

"Rather a Whisky.", sighed McGonagall with a faint chuckle. "But well, I won't say no, if you can offer me some lemon grass."

"Oh, I can.", Hermione leaned back a bit so she could see better how he pulled two cups, thin sheets of paper, as well as two little corked flasks. "I have prepared quite a number of teas recently.", he said following her surprised stare.

"You never fail to surprise me.", McGonagall smirked and took off her hat.

Hermione had never seen the full length of her hair as it usually was forced into a bun. But that had been messed by the hat resting on it. She carefully undid it while he pressed the papers onto the cups and emptied each flask on a paper before he let the things and his pouch vanish and pulled his wand for pouring a hot stream of water on the crunched leaves. All needles out, McGonagall shook her hair and began to comb it with her fingers. The next surprise Hermione witnessed, almost lead to Snape dropping wand and cups with the force of his sneeze.

"Bless you!", McGonagall chuckled vividly, but he didn't seem to be done, as he left the cups floating in mid-air, knowing. "Oh goodness!", he had sneezed another time, "Are you – ", and a third. "Severus! Now, that doesn't sound good,", he had a hard time pressing his free hand to his mouth and nose and his eyes already became watery.

"Are you done?", he mumbled into his hand.

"Huh?"

"For Heaven's – ", a fourth followed, "Sake – ", he coughed, "Get your hair – ", the fifth sneeze, "Done!"

"What?", the woman moaned, pinning it already. "Oh come on, this is ridiculous."

"As you hear it, it's – ", the rest drowned in an even louder sternutation.

"I am an Animagus!", McGonagall muttered. "Not a real cat!"

"Still.", Snape panted, rubbing his nose, visibly relieved that her hat sat back in place. "The only I can mysteriously stand, are well done Kneazle interbreedings."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Merlin's beard. You poor."

"Save your breath.", he grunted

"If you say so; mind if I return to our original topic?"

"No."

"Very well. Although I know you can be very convincing, I still wonder, how did you make her so afraid?"

"Tz. Asks someone who crushes her verbally at any opportunity."

"Ah well, I only react spontaneously."

"There you have the answer."

That hollow sentence followed a longer pause and Hermione again didn't believe her senses when they both grunted an equal, quiet snicker, though Snape had to wipe off some remaining tears. Two seconds later, as though nothing had happened, they mutually picked the cups, removed the papers, fully wrapped them around the soaked herbs and the bundles disappeared into thin air. Then either of them took a small sip, deeply in thoughts when someone else approached their row from the door and they were almost brutally forced to look up by the call of a beaming voice.

"That's a sight,", Professor Burbage stopped for grinning at them and joined the two, sitting herself onto the board at Snape's free right and taking a red berry from a number she carried in her left hand. "Saw you hurrying past and thought that might be some meeting I'm not to miss. I hope, I don't disturb?"

"Not at all, Charity. You are always welcome.", said Snape softly. "A tea for you as well?"

"If you can make one out of these raspberries – ", she opened her palm with a smile and held it under his nose.

"Nothing more simple."

He duplicated his cup twice, making the additional two float in front of him. After giving them an emptying wave, he transformed one into a sheet of paper, magically wrapped it atop the other, gave the raspberries a drying flick and levitated them onto the paper, on which he once again conjured a stream of hot water.

"Thanks.", Burbage grinned on and took the cup, holding it with both hands, waiting for the tea to be ready. "Was that you who sneezed? I could hear you from afar."

"Yes."

"Irma didn't throw you out yet?"

"I guess, she understood it as something inevitable. Though – "

"Oh no. You didn't shake your hair, Minerva, did you?"

"How come she knows you're allergic to Cat-Animagi?", the woman muttered.

"Cat hair basically. Except for – "

"Kneazle breeds. Yes, he just thought it wise to mention it now, after I had known him nearly all his life long."

"And donkeys.", meant Snape.

"Donkeys?", Burbage giggled. "Really? You never – "

"Donkeys. Yet not their milk, whatever."

"Alright. So? What was the topic before I blasted in?"

"The ever so present.", sighed McGonagall.

"The Pink Plimsoll?", it was then that Hermione escaped a snort and all six eyes were on her.

"Oh my goodness!", McGonagall moaned again. "Miss Granger – you are – here – we are – "

"Completely safe.", ensured Snape, but couldn't erase her panic. "So yes, Charity, the Pink Plimsoll. If I think about it, we should call her PP, just in case she might actually get the hint on the colour."

"Right.", Burbage giggled. "So, what were you discussing concerning – _PP_?", another giggle.

"Oh – merely – ", just slowly, McGonagall turned back her head to her colleagues, "How Severus managed to gain so much control over her."

"I wondered that too.", frowned Burbage and removed her sheet likewise, trying her tea. "Oh wow. Er – did you threat her, or what?"

"If you wish to call it so, yes, I threatened her. But personally I prefer to say, I gave her a tiny warning."

"In short, you said, ` _shut up or I'll gag and strangle you with your own hair_ ´?"

"Mildly circumscribed, yes. And I wouldn't take her hair. That is far less personal.", hadn't she known of his past, Hermione might have – "I would rather bind her to the ceiling of the Great Hall upside down on her underpants, with one of her bows in her mouth and wait whether her brain collapses from the overdose of blood, or her weight tearing the fabric at her ankles.", the leisure sip he took and the snickers of the normally so integrated women at his sides, emphasised the dramatic effect of his consideration and Burbage's add coronated it.

"You'd have my blessing, to be honest."

"Really? I don't want to know what there is under her skirt,", McGonagall smirked, visibly disgusted at the thought.

"Yes. Hardly imaginable.", Snape contorted his face to an expression of similar revulsion. "Then perhaps, tacking her to the Whomping Willow and leaving her to her fate.", he shrugged.

"That'd be fun too, yes. But do it before she inspects my class.", the two women had a good laugh, though Snape himself didn't seem too pleased.

"Hasn't she yet?"

"No.", confirmed Burbage. "So be quick."

"Oh I don't know, it might not be good for my reputation."

"I am sure, Albus will forgive you. You can always confund Fudge, in case he suspects you."

"This has nothing to do with Headmasters or Ministers, Minerva.", Snape mumbled, but was only heard by Hermione because the others laughed again.

"For goodness sake!", an upset woman finally came hurrying down to their row. "How many times do I have to – oh – _you_!", Madam Pince gasped and stopped when she saw who disturbed the mandatory quiet in the library. "You are teachers! Even! Behave as – what is this? God! This is a _library_ , not a _teahouse_!"

"Shall I remove the line, Irma?", Snape said calm and cold and though Hermione didn't see her face directly, she could spot her widely open eyes mirroring in the opposite window.

There was an almost deafening silence in which Hermione's heart sounded like beats of a timpani against her inner ears. Then Madam Pince turned and marched straight off, leading to another subdued snicker of the female Professors. A distant bell rang. Hermione sighed, packed her stuff and went to leave, though not without an advice.

"Maybe it would be better, if the three of you used your office for further meetings, Professor Snape. The single P doesn't seem to be too pleased with your attitude either.", she winked with a mischievous smile and hurried off before any of them could find a word.

Passing groups of students with the pictures and sounds of what just had happened in mind, she made her way up to the her Arithmancy class, just in time to enter when the bell rang for the beginning of the period. A little embarrassed, she noticed that her seat next to Padma was the only left empty. Fortunately, Professor Vector hadn't arrived yet, but there was such a silence hanging over the few students that it would have asked for a miracle not to hear the scratching of that quill when she took in her seat.

In a corner on a chair, a notorious feather had just made a note on a notorious flipchart and she knew the act was specifically dedicated to her late arrival. Padma gave her a mournful look, but it was the last she needed. PP would learn her lesson. And if Snape actually had to bind her to the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall.

~~#~~

Dinner became far more pleasant and after she had to describe how Umbridge had failed to impress the literally calculating Professor Vector as well, they had finally dropped the topic when Angelina had decided to apologise to Harry for taunting him about his absence from Quidditch due to his detention. Though she was still worried for how long their permission to keep up the team would last. Any word in any lesson could mean the end of it, all of them knew. But they had other problems now anyway. Training secretly would be exactly as difficult as it had sounded in first place. Nevertheless, Hermione presented Harry with whispers of what she had worked out in he library that day, in between worried looks up to the staff table.

There was an empty seat between Snape and Madam Pomfrey and Umbridge's constant triumphing look could make her guess what might have happened. Though the thought of it made her insides feel like what McGonagall's lemon grass had looked like after Snape had watered it. Fortunately, nobody really noticed it yet.

"Where're you going?", Ginny asked when Harry raised and picked up his bag.

"Common room. Got to finish homework."

"And the rest of your cake?", meant Ron.

"Take it and punch it into your dream diary, if you must.", Harry grunted and walked off.

"Thanks, mate.", Ron heaved the piece onto his own plate and ate on, not seeing the glare he got himself from Hermione.

"Honestly, Ron.", she huffed. "You're such an insensitive bugger.", a crumb fell back out of his open mouth, not being the only one who stared at her.

"Damn it!", he munched. "'E offer'd it ta me!"

"Well, here we got it. He's your best friend and you don't even get his sarcasm.", Ron frowned at her; Ginny took a deep breath and devoted to her vanilla pudding. " _Never mind_.", the male ginger swallowed.

"What the heck's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong with me, Ronald. I'm just – ", Hermione pouted.

"Hey!", Neville interrupted her.

"Saying. What?"

"Look at that."

The backdoor of the hall had opened and Snape's head had been the first to turn, even though the talks in the hall were still loud enough the closing of the door couldn't be heard from her position.

In had come, expectedly, Professor Burbage. Slowly, student after student who saw her, told others to look like Neville had done. Her eyes were swollen, but her expression was – feigned confidence. Pressing her lips shut so they wouldn't tremble, she paraded to her seat like none of them had ever seen her doing. Shocking the students probably even more, Snape dropped his cutlery with a loud clank and was on his feet. Seconds later he had caught her and dragged her back out. The woman struggled, though was too weak to free herself from the firm arms that were wrapped around her upper body. He shut the door behind. More seconds passed.

Almost everybody winced and stared at the door in shocked silence when the horrific cry managed to drift through the thick oaken door even. Everybody but Umbridge, who had tapped her satisfied smile with her napkin and raised from her seat, flouncing towards the middle corridor. Though jumping a little as well, she tried to ignore the loud bang from behind her. Her short legs gained speed though and her smile became artificial. Nevertheless a high pitched brief squeal escaped her when she bumped into something invisible and she trailed her eyes over the air in front of her.

"Severus – no – please – please don't – ", Professor Burbage muttered, staggering after the black figure. "That's really not – worth it – "

While storming through the hall, he took off his cloak and threw it carelessly to the floor. His black wand in hand and his hair bulging with his ferocious steps, he drew nearer and nearer. Just slowly, Umbridge turned to face him next to the most famous of current Gryffindors.

It was even scarier to watch than their first personal meet. Hermione already expected him to drill his wand into her throat, but instead, he pushed it back up his tight sleeve when he stopped just two feet away from her, his white fists then to his sides. Umbridge looked prepared, yet her tight lips and stiff posture told them all that she was just swallowing down fear with an unimpressed stare. Burbage had arrived shortly behind him, in an angle she was just visible to Hermione. Snape inhaled deeply. Then, surprising everyone, he barely raised his deep, calm voice.

"You are walking on very thin ice, _Dolores_."

"Would you mind, enlightening me?", Umbridge sang.

"You know exactly what I am talking about. Or have you forgotten our little private conversation, not so long ago?", he boredly lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh I haven't forgotten it, and I might just re-write your report."

"I can't wait watching you.", there was a quite impressive pause. "Now then. Since we sorted that out, _would you mind_ lifting Charity's suspension?", the entire hall gasped for breath at the last word.

"I see no sense in doing so."

"But _I_ do. Or do you want me to tell your beloved Minister about – _the meeting_ – you attended last week?"

"I have not the slightest idea what you are referring to.", her lips became even thinner and the shock in her eyes couldn't be hidden any longer.

"You do not take me for a fool. How is Corinna doing? Oh yes, I forgot, she hardly talks. But Isabel was surely excited to meet a woman who shares her favourite colour."

"Whatever that is, you are trying to achieve here,"

"Oh I am not trying to achieve anything here. I am only listing facts and even if you might yet not be able to recognise – _the kind_ , I do. And if it interests you, _he told me_ about that meeting.", Umbridge's skin took on an instant snow white and her breathing became more short and rapid.

"By tomorrow morning you have lifted her suspension – and I want to see _her belonging_ back in her office, unscathed and in exactly the place it was, before you took it."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?", snarled Snape.

"I am Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and High Inquisitor. I have the full right to suspend incapable personnel of this school, as well as confiscate objects that are of suspected illegality."

"You certainly didn't catch the clue. I am not your friend and _I might pass the information_ , regardless of whatever rights you may believe to have obtained from your _beloved_ Minister. Not everyone can serve two people convincingly.", Umbridge looked terrified at last, but still resisted. "Well then, I think, we should change the specifics. It takes – ", he mock-scanned her body, " _You_ – fifteen minutes to reach your office and another fifteen to take it and carefully carry it back to Charity's office. In short, you have thirty minutes."

"Severus – ", Professor Burbage pleaded quietly, but remained locked out of the conversation.

"I can't see you moving,", growled Snape through his teeth; Umbridge refused to stop drilling her eyes into his.

"You are running in danger of being suspended yourself, Snape.", Umbridge squeaked.

"Fine. It seems, you have had some naivety for dinner. That shall not be our problem. Twenty-eight minutes. I will tell _someone_ that your newly achieved loyalty is nothing but empty words and a mere try to turn the whole thing upside down, if you arrive just a second too late. Let us see, whom he will believe.", Umbridge nearly exploded, but didn't move, even though the lights in the hall went out one after another. " _Twenty-five_.", he said as slow as possible; every letter was cold ice like the air around.

The last candle extinguished with a gust of unseen origin. Hermione wasn't the only one who could see her breath in the light of the decrescent moon. Dumbledore, finally having decided to intervene, was on his feet and tilted up the tabletop in front of his chair, making his cutlery and the almost empty plate slide aside to the free space next to Professor Sprout's bowl of yoghurt. As though he had heard the totally silent move in the silent hall, Snape continued.

"No need to think I cannot deal with her, Albus.", he stopped him already one foot further.

"As if you could scare me with that little show,", Umbridge squeaked higher than ever.

"Then I'll leave you the choice between two options, won't I? Listen closely, because there will only be those two and believe me, you cannot impress me with Ministry Records; I daresay, I do not need any paper to tell myself or others what I am capable of. So, either you get your chubby buttocks out of here immediately and do as I said, or I pop your eyes out with – ", he held out his hand, summoning a spoon into it from the Gryffindor table, "This spoon and then turn you into a Sir-Nicholas-Lookalike _right now_ , and _in front of everyone here_. Trust me, this is no empty threat. _I will do that_ and they will, as sure as the sun rises after this night, say it was an accident. By the way, _twenty-two_."

It was so odd to watch that none could even get out an even subdued laugh – or probably because he had spoken a shockingly brutal death threat that could actually have been meant. Umbridge spun on her heels and scampered towards the open gilded doors, those high heels clacking dangerously as though she was actually running for her life. When she vanished up the main staircase, the lights went on again and Dumbledore sighed. Burbage curled her lips, all confidence that had been left, finally flowing from her body.

"Severus?", she breathed slack.

"What.", it was not an annoyed grunt, but some grumpiness was there in his voice, stressed by his semi-angry expression that impaled the gloom in the Entrance Hall.

"Thank you – for – ", Burbage gargled jerkily, trying to find the right words, "For – "

"For what.", now his tone was a little more languid and he somewhat rolled his eyes.

"For leaving her on the floor.", she mumbled in a mix of his momentary state and relief, but obviously fighting a smile as well.

"I won't deny that a certain tree is still tempting.", huffed Snape, and without looking, threw the spoon with such force that it whirled through between the gasping Parvati and Lavender, spinning quicker than a boomerang, and landed smoothly in a tart where it got stuck as though it was a sharp knife.

"Where are you going?", he had started walking forward.

"Forgive me, but I don't want to miss her face when she reaches your office."

Everybody, students and staff alike, just gazed after him as good as they could when he left the hall upstairs. Several moments passed before something other than that happened. Two heads zoomed at a black heap on the floor as though they were twins; or simply thinking the same. Suddenly remembering last Christmas, Hermione felt losing control of her legs. She already stood upright when Burbage – was faster to pick up the cloak. Her shoulders sank when her teacher folded the massive fabric to a kind of pile, held it to her chest with both arms and hurried straight out of the hall without paying anyone attention. Unable to help it, Hermione failed to ignore a voice in her head that told her that she must look the same when she was rushing through the castle with some books on her arms.

"Hermione?", Ron tore her from her thoughts, but her head didn't fully turn to him. "What was _that_?"

"Um – I'm – ", be quick, she thought, _be quick!_ "Goodnight!", she sang briefly, grabbed her bag, swung it over her shoulder and left the hall running.

"Er – _what_?"

"You know, you shouldn't have said anything?", Hermione could just hear Ginny grunt over the silence when she entered the stairs.

She didn't care that her sides were aching a second time in a single day. All that counted was keeping her exhausted breath and footsteps as low as possible. In the torchlight she could see her disappear around a last corner. Stopping at it, she peeked into the next corridor. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Glad that the woman directed his view slightly from her hiding place by positioning herself right in front of him, she held her hand on her mouth to shush the breathing.

"What by all means do you think you are doing?", Snape murmured.

"You forgot your cloak."

"I know.", he huffed, took it from her held out arms and unfolded it in one move, putting it on in another. "But that is not an answer."

"I want to watch it too."

"In all honesty, _no_. She is coming late."

"You said, you would report her – "

"Do you actually think, I am that stupid?"

"No. I think, you're even more stupid.", gnarled Burbage. "What're you gonna do? Torture her?"

"It indeed came to my mind."

"Severus – she might be scared of you, but that won't make her stop.", moaned the woman a hand on his collarbone.

"As if I didn't figure that out myself, thanks. And in case, there is still the second option.", a little annoyed, he turned his head down the corridor. "Just do me a favour and hide in your bedroom. I really don't want you to witness this."

"I know I don't have the strongest mind, but I _will_ watch this.", Burbage crossed her arms as well. "I can do that. I already asked Albus whether I could join the Order."

" _What?_ ", he dropped his arms so fast and with such shock, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised seeing him collapse. "Are you – _mental_?"

"Relax. He refused.", she hissed.

"For good reason! Charity! Do you have the slightest idea what that means? What kind of danger – "

"I am well aware of the dangers."

"Good!", Snape panted. "Because I'm not worth the trouble,"

"You? _You?_ ", the upset tone couldn't be mistaken for anything else. "Do you really think, I – what – that – that doesn't make any sense at all!", he said nothing on it, but straightened against the wall and crossed his arms again. "Look, I _am_ aware of what it would mean.", she hooked her fingers onto his forearms.

"Sure. As if you could kill.", his look was directed down the corridor to his right once more.

"Sorry? Kill? You're obviously confusing the Order with some other group! There's hardly anyone in the Order who ever killed somebody so far."

"That is right. _So far_.", Snape noted. "You have no idea what it is like. Let me give you a vague example. There is a call and you know it could be anything. You know it could just be a bunch of idiots – or a whole squadron of Death Eaters. Within a split second you have to be ready to do everything. Everything for whomever you have to save, knowing them or not. That doesn't exclude killing. Believe me, no Death Eater stops being one just because they are hit by a Stunning Spell or lose their wand, no matter what Albus might tell to calm the lot. Real life is different. If you stun one, the second could kill you."

"If you kill one, the second could kill you as well anyway."

"Fine that you understand the basics. There are other ways to help. Being in the Order means being ready for a call every time at day and night. Teaching at Hogwarts might grant you some merits, but if the case is serious, you have to abandon everything, leave the safe grounds and join the battle instantly. You will not know what awaits you."

"He has returned half a year ago."

"He has been recruiting like the Devil vomiting Demons. The world outside Hogwarts has changed. The _Prophet_ is mute. People die off the streets, not in bright sunlight. It is just the beginning."

"Trust me, I still know what it was like last time."

"You were safely stored in Hogwarts and Reg hid you in his room over the holidays. Tell me again."

"Then tell _me_ , why are you doing what you do?"

"Because I can. You can't. Saying is one thing, doing is another.", he still wouldn't look at her.

" _That is not an answer_."

"Because I have something that drives me."

"So have I."

"No, you don't."

"How can you say. Just because you think, your reason is far deeper, it doesn't mean that mine isn't strong enough. And it isn't mandatory to kill. People have survived this without killing, you know that. Why is it so important to you that I don't kill anyone while you do so?"

"That is exactly why. Because I know what it is like to do that. I don't want you to – "

"It is _my_ life, Severus. Even Lily said she would love to go out there and slay them all, one after another.", the blank fury rising in his half covered face scared Hermione a little.

"I know well what she said, but she was as much capable of actually doing so as you are. Mind where – she is now. And Umbridge is coming.", there was indeed the sound of clattering high heels and heavy breathing getting louder from the corner he had stared at, though Umbridge couldn't be seen yet. "Get inside.", the lock of the door to Burbage's office clicked without any visible move of his and the door sprung open.

"No."

"I said, _get inside_!", Snape snarled quietly, his eyes still fixated on the corner.

"No.", his colleague repeated stern.

"Great. You missed your chance to keep up your innocence voluntarily.", a plump, pink something hurried around the corner, holding a pot with a blue plant in front of her chest and half of her face.

"I don't care.", she though took her hands off him.

"But I do.", moaned Snape, not losing his expression. "I don't want any witnesses. She could hold that against me."

"So she could `no witnesses´."

"Excellent!", he let her know that she was better to keep quiet now. "Would you mind giving it to Charity so she can put it back into her office?"

Hermione had never seen anything handed over with such disgust, and that was saying something after more than four years of Potions class. Understanding that she stood no chance against him, Burbage brought the hyacinth inside. Just when she was out of sight, the door fell shut and the lock clicked. Now it was only them – and the spy around the corner.

"Her suspension?"

"I haven't – reported – it yet.", Umbridge tried to breathe.

"And you will never do.", Snape said cold. "As I said, just because we are standing on the same area of the chess board, it doesn't mean we are friends. I maintain your secret, for the time being, nor will I say a thing to the Lord. Call yourself lucky that I will only keep an eye on you. You may carry out your orders, but beware. You have an enemy and he was baptised with my name. I like lists, you see? I have, for example, an invisible list with points – and those are far from positive. There are five points next to your name already. You do not wish to know what happens to you when you gain ten."

"Empty words, Snape.", Umbridge snorted, presenting him with the look she received.

"If you say so, then let me give you another example, if you would."

At her corner, Hermione literally held her breath when he pulled his wand and gave it a sharp jab. She knew that Umbridge opened her mouth to say something, but out came nothing. The small woman's eyes gaped with horror. White fingers clutched the black wand tightly, which was pointed at her. Umbridge was on the floor, coiling with what looked like the highest unimaginable agony existing, but no single sound left her. The Silencing Charm was stronger than the pain rushing through every of her veins.

Crouch had performed the curse in front of her, but she had never seen anyone casting it on a human being. Umbridge's painted fingernails were scratching the stone floor and she struggled to her best, if it was to get away – or to create a pain in her fingers that was bigger so she could bear the other, was left for interpretation. From the occasional glimpses on her rolling eyes, Hermione could tell that she would give anything just to make it end. What shocked her most, was that she herself was so frozen at her corner; hating the woman so much that she could find no urge to leave her hiding place or even turn away from the scene. Then it stopped.

"You surely understand, that this stays between us.", Snape said as calm as though he was talking about stealing biscuits or something even more harmless.

Umbridge tried to breathe, still soundless, her toad-like face white and broken, silent tears running from her eyes. She swallowed hard. A nod. Faint, but it was there.

"Good. And mind that you are nothing but a worm. Such are replaceable.", Hermione couldn't see the sneer, but heard it. "Now get out of my face!", he hissed and Umbridge was on her short feet so quickly, Hermione already thought he had put the Imperius Curse on her as well.

He waited for her to leave. It was actually sad to watch. Staggering, her ankles and knees weak, Umbridge stumbled along he corridor and out of sight. Only when she was gone and the patchy clacking of her shoes deadened down, his fury faded. His chin sank to his chest, making the black curtains of hair covering his face entirely at last. All tension worn off, he just stood in the torchlight for what seemed to be hours. Unable to think about anything, Hermione's hand sank and she leaned against the cold stone corner. The long black cloak hauling over the ancient floor, he turned and took the few steps towards Burbage's door.

"That applies to you as well, Miss Granger.", he added quietly when the lock clicked.

All Hermione could do was watching him enter without turning and close the door behind. A last click. No sound left but her own breath. Nothing left but knowledge that wasn't to be shared.

~~#~~


	11. Chapter 10 - And when the rain

– Chapter 10 –

 **And when the rain**

Just like on every other normal early Saturday morning in autumn, the entire castle laid in a peaceful slumber. Walking quietly and holding her coat tight, she passed rows of sleeping portraits and torches that didn't light up. Two of the corridors she took had windows to the outside. Rain was dashing against the glass, creating the only sound she perceived apart from her own shoes and breathing. The sun had risen already, but due to the thick clouds, it was still quite gritty. Swallowing down the memory of what had happened in that place the evening before, she halted and lifted her hand for three firm knocks. She didn't expect an answer. Therefore it surprised her to find the lock clicking only half a minute later.

Still very sleepy and both the short cut on the right as well as the long wavy left part of her hair being a total mess, Professor Burbage blinked at her. She wore nothing but a crème-white thin strappy top and a delicate panty under her sloppily hanging brown dressing gown which she tried to hold somehow with her left hand. In the other, she carried her wand, which she lowered when she recognised the person who was standing outside.

"Good morning, Professor.", her student said quietly. "I hope, I haven't woken you."

"Not – at all – ", Hermione knew the yawned words were a lie, but who cared? "Good morning. Oh do come in. It isn't good to stand in corridors these days,", the teacher gave her a doleful smile and let her enter, closing the door behind them.

"Thank you, yes. The walls have eyes."

"They have."

A gasp made Hermione startle as well. Burbage had nearly dropped her wand.

"You have my permission to send Miss Patil a warning.", like then in McGonagall's office, he sat on the windowsill with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking outside. " _Before_ she returns to the Gryffindor Tower."

"Whatever, Sir?", the Elf that shared the narrow space with him, standing, squawked.

"I think, a Half-Blood will do, if you understand, thank you."

"I understand, and any time, Sir.", with a loud _crack_ , Dobby was gone.

He didn't even wince at the noise. In the following silence that was only disturbed by the rain hitting the window, Hermione had time to get an impression of her surrounding. In the scarce early daylight, the office was still as cosy as it had been at her first visit many months ago. The only difference, three pots with plants were standing in the middle of the desktop. She realised that he must have put them there to be able to sit on the sill. It appeared, the short rough change of owner had really troubled the assumingly already weak hyacinth. It carried nearly no blooms and the earth in the pot was decorated with those that had fallen off.

Now she also noticed that his legs; apart from the black hair; were completely bare, but he wore a white long-sleeved shirt. The upper and lower buttons were opened and it hung over the edge of his seat. Knowing that he might feel he stare, she directed her eyes on the doorway to her right. The bed with white sheets and a big pillow was as much a mess as both teachers' hair, the old sofa next to the door completely untouched however. She wondered where –

"The bed, Miss Granger, the bed.", he moaned mockingly. "I'd rather sleep on rocks than ruining my spine on this crappy sofa. Yes, _I shared that bed with her_. Does it bother you?"

"Um – no – Sir – it – it doesn't – ", Hermione aspirated.

He turned in whole, finally taking his eyes off the window when smoothly moving his legs into tailor-fashion and resting his arms atop, his back straight against the glass, and she briefly spotted the furrowed scars on his right leg that weren't fully covered by the hair.

Apparently Fluffy had caused serious damage. She wondered whether the wounds had been infected, or if it had solely been due to Fluffy being a magical creature, as some magical creatures were known to inflict wounds that can never be mended fully. The first however, would have indeed been more than ironic, she thought.

"Of course not.", he sneered malicious. "It shouldn't bother you at all.", his expression became some sort of alarming anger. "And next time you consider waking your teachers on an early Saturday morning for questioning them about matters that are none of your business, you should learn from your mistakes and _watch out for stalkers_.", Hermione swallowed. "Should there be nothing you'd like to say, I'd kindly ask you to _leave_.", he snarled, but Hermione knew better.

"This is not _your_ office, Sir.", she countered and crossed her arms, smiling inside when she saw all his defences spall. "If there is someone to tell me to leave, it would be Professor Burbage; to whom I have come, by the way. It is not my fault that you decided that her bed was more comfortable than your own, Sir."

She knew what she did was dangerous, but the words were spoken and he was obviously too tired to fight back. Even worse, he slightly raised, jumped over the small, crammed table below the window with unforeseen agility and walked straight into the bedroom. A little confused, the females watched him climb into the bed with his face to the wall and pull the white blanket over his head, leaving just a few bundles of his greasy black hair on the pillow to be seen.

"Severus?", Burbage moaned.

"You heard her. _It is not my office_.", the man grumbled through the blanket. "I am not supposed to be here. So, where am I?"

"Severus.", but he must have given the bedroom door a wave of his hand from under the blanket – it noisily snapped shut. "Hermione?", that one answered with a frustrated snort and walked over to the sofa, where she sank in so heavily that her legs downright flew up, but she managed to get them back down and crossed them in addition, sulking at the window. "What was that about?", Burbage said softly and joined her, but Hermione kept staring into the cloudy sky.

"Oh, I don't know,", she grunted, more to herself, though wasn't sure whether the other actually noticed that fact.

"Hermione, Severus and I – are close friends.", a pause, yet no reply. "I don't want to sound childish, but – _does_ it bother you that we shared my bed tonight?"

"Of course not.", the girl pouted on. "I thought, I said that."

"You did _say_ that."

"Yes, I did."

"So?"

"So _what?_ ", Hermione spat, her head rushing at her with her brown bushes swaying.

"Nothing.", Burbage remained calm, almost indifferent, and Hermione realised that she was just freaking out for hell only knew what reason.

"That's right. It is _nothing_.", not understanding why, Hermione couldn't stop herself from being upset.

"Why are you here.", that calm statement, rather than being a question, flared her unsettling frustration even more.

"Well, why would I be here? I don't know! That is why I'm here! _I don't know_ why I'm here!"

"If I should have done you any wrong, you need to tell me. I can't read your mind."

"I suppose that isn't necessary. You haven't.", Hermione still neither lost her tone, nor her tension.

"You can speak openly."

"I already do."

"I can ask him to show some sense and ignore the fact that you are his student, if you wish to talk to him privately."

"What makes you think I'd want that.", if Burbage could, she could as well.

"As I said, I cannot read your mind, but I'm a woman just like you and I'm not stupid. There is an unsolved, very private matter between you and him and I could probably help, if you'd let me."

"There's noting unsolved.", Hermione huffed and jumped up, as good as the sofa let her.

"Well, then not.", sighed Burbage.

"If you really were such close friends, you would know why he avoids plants since."

"And you do know why?", her teacher asked, a little angry now.

"Because his mother died in one of the glasshouses there.", she snorted, turned and left without caring about the door. "Unsolved. Tz."

Hermione had already disappeared around the corner when she closed and locked the door and went for the other, which she opened a little hesitantly. Behind it, the bed hadn't changed. Dropping another sad sigh, she went over and laid down flat next to the white mountain range, her face straight at the ceiling.

"You should tell her.", the only answer she received was a nondescript grunt.

~~#~~

It had been quite stunning to see all of them having turned up for the spontaneous meeting in the Room of Requirement. Just as stunning as Hermione's respective spell worked on each of her today's training par-

"I really don't have any idea what's wrong with you, but generally knowing you, makes me rather worried. That spell's not supposed to seriously harm people; you said that yourself.", Harry moaned when a group of girls hurried for Parvati who had slammed against the mirror wall, unconscious. "We're friends, not enemies. Good that you can be so consequent, but save it for the real Death Eaters, please."

"Oh shut up!", spat Hermione, making everyone in her approximate surrounding back away.

"Oy!", Ron coughed. "We know you like that Burbage, but that's no reason to go mad on us!"

"If it interests you, Umbridge has lifted her suspension.", she panted at him like an enraged dragon.

"Right! Even more reason not to go – "

" _Shut up, Weasley!_ "

"Bloody hell – "

"I SAID – "

"Expelliarmus!", immediately Hermione was cut off when the spark-shooting wand she had brandished at Ron flew through the room like Parvati had and was easily caught by Ginny.

"Give me back my wand,", Hermione huffed.

"No."

"GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!", she was scarlet red and had all shocked eyes on her.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAPDOOR YOU IFFY MADCAP OR I'LL KICK YOU ALL THE WAY TO GRIMMAULD PLACE!", Ginny yelled back, apparently having given her the verbal smack she had needed – and was so instantly calm again that everyone presented her with a flabbergasted stare, including the conscious again Parvati, who still carried a number of fine cuts on her cheeks and hands which she had brought to the meeting. "Thanks.", Ginny sighed at Hermione, whose colour slowly faded. "Can you tell me what the heck's happened that you need to act like that ruddy portrait?", those who didn't know what she was talking about, were too dumbfounded to wonder anyway, so there was no need to bother.

"Nothing happened.", Hermione was back at her senses – and anger.

"Guess, I don't believe you.", Ginny pushed her fists into her hips pretty much like her mother would have done it in such a situation, a wand in each.

"Fine! Then don't believe me, you – you – "

" _Yes?_ "

"Twerp!"

A loud bang echoed through the room, making the mirrors quiver. Hermione saw only dancing lights against a black ceiling that just slowly cleared up. She had met with the same fate as Parvati, only that whatever spell Ginny had unleashed on her with both wands, hadn't fully managed to knock her out. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't used an incantation – or because Hermione's head had landed on a warm cushion that had laid exactly there for unknown fortuity. Probably the room had reacted.

"I'm so sorry – ", she could barely hear Ginny's whimpering over the ringing in her ears. "Sorry – I didn't mean to – Hermione?", now her face appeared behind the black veil along with Harry's, Ron's and – Luna's. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?", the voice drifted into distance with other cries and the cushion strangely became warmer. "Oh my god – Hermione!"

"Luna!", Harry gasped. "Run – McGonagall – or anyone – help – please – "

She couldn't see or hear Luna leave. The stars were gone. Everything was black and the hollow screams vanished into nothingness as though she was being pulled into the depths of an endless sea. Some pain against her cheek. Someone had carefully slapped her to keep her from falling unconscious. The blurred image was back – and fading into darkness again – and back – she felt being lifted. There was something pressed against the back of her now terribly aching head and she began to realise that the cushion must have been her own blood. She could hardly perceive the faces of the Weasley twins while trying to lock out a horrible awareness. One of them was carrying her out of the room so it wouldn't be discovered.

"Put her down – somewhere here – ", Harry said again.

"Hermione?", was that – Neville? "Hermione! Don't die! You hear me?", no, it was – it – was – who was it? "Shit – ", Ron. "Don't just – ", hasty footsteps.

"I said McGonagall – ", moaned Harry.

"You also said, ` _anyone_ ´.", not seeing a thing but being conscious enough to hear Luna's wondrously sinister growl, she couldn't help but feel amused, though the muscles in her face seemed to refuse to form a smile.

"But not – "

"Shut up, Potter, and get out of my way.", Snape. "Turn her over, Weasley.", the twin's hand that had pressed some cloth against her bleeding wound, moved away when she felt herself being rolled onto her left arm that appeared disturbingly numb. "Hold back her hair."

The deep voice was so quiet she feared she would travel too far into distance for surviving. Her body shut down everything that consumed too much energy. Even the pain. She was slowly reduced to simple thoughts as though too complicated ones would make that brain explode that was growing rapidly against its shell.

Darkness. Silent darkness. No feeling, no sound, no thought. Endless nothing. The black became grey, became white – became red. She was standing in mist, shining mist that was filled with glittering sunlight in a blood-red sea. Laughter. Echoing inside her head, but it wasn't meant to disgrace her for her outburst, it was the laughing of a child. A girl, presumably. Faceless figures all around, there, but not. Something blinded her eye. It was a silver spark. No. A tiny object that reflected the sunlight, miles away – and still only feet. It fell to the ground with some loud noise. When it hit the cobbles, black fog engulfed her.

"Just imagine she wakes up and – is all nutty – "

"Honestly Ron,", that was Ginny sobbing, definitely, though far away, "She'd never – wake up – again – and – and all you got – on mind – is – that she – won't be able t– to do – your homework – "

"That's not what I said – "

"Shove it.", one of the twins, equally distant over the sound of what must be a panting elephant.

"Yeah. Keep it to yourselves, both of you.", the other.

"Listen – ", Luna's dreamy voice. "You hear that?", even further away, Madam Pomfrey was hissing.

"Even if she should ever wake up again, it might take days for her brain to detumesce!", Hermione noticed that she could hardly breathe and no part of her body would move on her will. "That is irresponsible! It could kill her!"

"It doesn't make her more dead than she already is.", a deep male voice replied calm. "Her body needs blood, and does it _now_. Otherwise she won't be able to _move_ ever again, should she survive."

"If you force that all down her throat, her brain might explode! You'd have to break her skull again if you – "

"I am well aware of the possible adverse effects of that potion, Poppy, and no, we will have to try without. I already had to remove some splinters manually before I mended it. I won't do that another time. It has to work this way, or no way."

"It indeed astonishes me what you have been able to, but please leave her to my colleague from St Mungo's now. She will arrive any minute via Floo. She is an expert."

"And I had a mother.", snarled Snape, apparently coming closer.

"What does your mother have to do with that?", Madam Pomfrey moaned, following.

Bright light. She didn't feel the touch, nor could she move her eyes, but she saw his blurred face in front of her right eye becoming more clear with every passing second. Now in front of her left as well.

"Her irides work. She's awake."

"What?", several people said at once; she could hear a chair falling and hasty footsteps.

"Stay away from her.", the view became a different one – he must have lifted her so she sat almost upright. "You, Weasley, go and fetch Potter before he demolishes the entire castle.", by the ginger and black flash she saw, she knew that Ron had understood. "And keep him from entering the wing, with brutal force, if you must.", he called after him. "Poppy, hold her left arm. Weasley – not _you_ , girl – George, press down her legs, Fred, to me and secure her right arm. We need to hold her in case her body reacts too quick. Good. When I removed the mask, you have three seconds to prepare yourselves."

The bit of air that reached her lungs was gone and her sight blurred into a familiar black. Then, as if a lightning bolt was shooting through her veins, a warm rush flooded her whole body. Her heart beat like hell and something hammered inside her head before she could perceive something flowing down her throat. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. She felt the uncontrolled twitching, felt her eyes roll up and her body fight against firm hands that held her down, as much as it fought the potion at first. In a moment of pure ecstasy, her lungs were filled with loads of fresh air and she could hear the massive breath she took transforming into rapid ones when she sank into the soft pillow and mattress. Blinking, she also heard the relieved sighs all around. The pressure eased and she finally managed to look around on her own.

"Ginny!"

"I advise you to let go of me as quick as you jumped and tell me why that insanity was necessary, Miss Weasley."

"Sorry, Sir.", Ginny muttered and Hermione breathed a chuckle when she understood that Ginny had flung her arms around Snape's neck without thinking.

"Well, never mind. Miss Granger, can you hear me?"

"Yes.", she gargled at him, still hardly able to breathe properly and her whole body prickled. "I could – always hear – anything. At least – most of – of the time."

"How does it sound?"

"Better – than before – it was – so distant – now it's – it's getting clearer."

"Your eyesight?", his fingers were back at her lids, examining her irides.

"Better – as well.", she suddenly felt a change of temperature – he had pushed down the blanket.

"Can you move your fingers?", she tried, it seemed to work. "Lift your arms. Good. Now your legs, bend your knees, move your toes.", a brief sigh escaped him. "Roll in."

"What?"

"I said, roll in.", though a little confused, she crouched up. "How do you feel?"

"Stupid.", Hermione mumbled into her knees.

"Perfect.", he sighed again. "You may sit up."

"And hungry. I never felt such a bad need for onion soup before.", she dizzily stared back up at him, costing her friends a quiet laugh. "Where's my wand?"

"Here.", Ginny moaned and put it down on the bedside table, next to the nearly empty bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and she wondered how she could have possibly swallowed that all in one go without fully noticing.

"And my bag? _Where is my bag?_ ", the sudden pressure in her head made her gasp for air.

"Your brain is back at work, Miss Granger. Don't stress it. It is still swollen."

"Figured that.", she aspirated with an annoyed smirk.

"I have your bag here,", Luna said softly, in her usual tone and showed her that it hung on her shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Miss Weasley, go to Miss Granger's trunk and bring whatever you think she might be needing for an overnight stay. You may leave it on the desk outside."

"Sorry.", Ginny threw her a smirk.

"It's off the table already.", Hermione murmured flaccid. " _I'm_ sorry."

"You two, help your brother and his dear friend find their way down to lunch. Deliver the message that she will recover completely, but only if she is granted a peaceful rest. There shall be no visits.", he waited for all three Weasleys to be gone. "Miss Lovegood, may I ask, how you found me up there?"

"Intuition.", smiled Luna, giving him pause.

"Well, then use it for finding Professor McGonagall and tell her that she has to do the shift she so desperately wanted me to take under."

"Alright, Professor. Hermione, I'll drop your bag here.", it vividly landed on the floor at the foot of the bed, books rumbling. "Get well. We miss you already. And don't touch any crow yet.", with that, she hopped out, humming.

"Is she – fine?", Madam Pomfrey asked, gazing after her. "Or should we call her back for – "

"It is Miss Lovegood's nature to be fine when others wouldn't be.", Snape wised her up. "Now Poppy, please order two bowls of onion soup from the kitchen. Ask for them to be brought in here directly and state that it was actually I who asked for them. The Elves will know what to do. You may send your colleague back to St Mungo's."

"But Miss Granger – she'd need professional help – "

"Didn't I just professionally prove that I could positively change her state within seconds?"

"Er – all right?"

The woman remained confused, but shuffled out to her desk, spinning as a shortly glowing pink line appeared on the floor in the doorway and the doors fell shut, being locked in addition. Hermione hadn't seen him pulling his wand. Pacing gently, he went for her bag and placed it between the bedside table and the formerly fallen chair he summoned for himself. The stopping tap he gave the still moving bellows of the respirator, was the best idea he could have had in her opinion. Silence fell over the big infirmary.

"I don't like to be as unfair as to penetrate your mind.", he said softly when he sat down and pushed his wand back into his left sleeves before he crossed his arms and legs. "What happened?", Hermione gulped, unsure where to start. "You can trust me."

"I know.", she took a deep breath and composed herself. "I overreacted, Ginny accidentally attacked me a little too forceful."

"And now the whole story, if you please. Why were you in the Room of Requirement?", understanding that she wouldn't be able to tantalise him, she took another breath and continued.

"We've been practising.", a bit embarrassed, she stared across the room and through the windows; it had stopped raining, but the sky was still covered with silvery grey clouds.

"Go on,"

"Harry's our teacher.", she confessed, curling her lips. "Basically it's been my idea, but he agreed. He knows better. I only help him with the research on what we should learn – thanks to your books, Professor."

"How many of you are there?"

"Some,"

"Names?", her head zoomed at him, making her view blur for a second, but he radiated professional calm.

"Um – there's – there's a list in my bag.", Snape reached down for it and pulled it onto his lap. "In my Arithmancy book.", he got the book immediately and flapped it open, scanning the list with an ironic chuckle and a faint smirk.

"` _Dumbledore's Army_ ´."

"We first went wit `Defence Association´ and the short name `DA´; Ginny then meant we should better let it stand for `Dumbledore's Army´ because – "

"That is what the Minister fears."

"Yes."

"You trust those people? All of them?", his lips stayed ajar with a languid frown.

"I've bewitched the list. If they give us away, everyone will know what kind of bastards they are.", he gritted his teeth in thoughts and shortly scratched his neck, then returned the closed book to the bag and dropped it where he had before.

"How many meetings have there been?"

"A few,"

"You have to be cautious. There is an – "

"Educational Decree, I know.", huffed Hermione. "She's doing her best to make us look at those at least three times a day. Somehow she must have figured out that we planned something, even before the first meeting. Otherwise, well, we'd know the _sneak_."

"How do you inform the members about an upcoming meeting?", Hermione reached into the front pocket of her uniform trousers and pulled the modified Galleon, which she gave to him.

"Everyone has such a coin.", Snape examined it thoroughly, noticing the difference to a normal Galleon right away though. "Harry has the `master coin´. He's the only who can change date and time. When it's changed, the coins warm up a little so to notify – "

"I know the specifics of a Protean Charm very well."

"Of course."

Snape nodded, put the coin down on the bedside table and tapped it three quick times with his wand. A single coin erupted from it, bumping a few inches into the air and coming to lie next to the original. It was an exact copy, as far as Hermione could tell. She wondered whether it would work just like those she had created in the same manner. But knowing of his capabilities, she decided it to be out of question. He handed back her original and kept the copy in his own pocket. Hermione's eyes remained caught on the rest of the red liquid in the bottle. Her thoughts were interrupted radically when a loud _crack_ tore the air.

"Hello Sir, Miss, I brought your soup!", Dobby beamed, holding two bowls with steaming onion soup and spoons that rested on plates below in each of his bony hands.

"Thank you, Dobby.", Snape took the things from him and gave one bowl carrying plate to Hermione, after he had stowed away his wand another time.

"May I ask, what happened, Sir?"

"Merely a non-noteworthy accident, but the soup will help her recover."

"Then enjoy your meal.", the Elf shortly bowed with a broad grin and was gone, accompanied by another _crack_.

"You like onion soup?", Hermione asked, helping herself to the indeed soothing liquid.

"I do not detest it.", he did the same.

"Did you know, Sir?"

"Did I know what, Miss Granger?", she gave the bottle a nod.

"That I'd survive it?"

"No.", he said honest.

"And still you risked it?"

"You were as good as dead. There was only the choice between a slow and a quick death. I'd personally prefer it quick, if I was to decide on my own life; in spite of some people wandering these grounds, whom I'd wish a very slow one.", Hermione couldn't stop a laugh escaping her when she saw his desperate attempt to hide a smile.

"Please don't be angry with me when I mention it, but you – spoke about your mother – ", he grunted, but to her relief, stayed and continued eating. "Did she – ever – was – was it ever necessary that – "

"It is no use trying to glue me to this chair with muttered insecurities. Assemble the question, then ask it.", Snape moaned to his soup.

"Have you ever been attacked in a way that forced your mother to do what you did to me?"

"My – once best friend accidentally sent me against the edge of a bookshelf. I was seventeen."

"Ouch.", Hermione distorted her face.

"I survived it, as you can hopefully see. No need for expressing anything you believe to be obliged to do."

"Did you forgive your friend?"

" _It was an accident_. We had a fight and she lost control."

"She?"

"She."

"So, ` _once_ ´, did – did you forgive her?"

"I did, she was the one to never forgive herself."

"Oh. That's why you aren't anymore. Can't you – try talking her into it?", there was an awkward pause in which he still ate on, not deigning to look at her.

"No, that is not why. She's dead.", ashamed of herself and Igor Karkaroff's warning echoing in the back of her aching head, she blew a mournful sigh.

"I'm sorry – "

"As charming as this little habit of yours may appear, it doesn't bring back anyone or anything."

"I know. Still."

"Well, _thank you_.", he snorted into his half empty bowl.

"And your – other friend?"

"Who?", he finally looked at her, but in a way that made her feel even smaller and more stupid.

"Professor Karkaroff."

"Alive and kicking, as much as branded can be on the run from the Dark Lord. But I think, the earthquake two weeks ago galvanised him at last. He sent me an article from a Muggle newspaper with a proud note that he wasn't among those eighty-four people who died, and a photo of a gigantic rock lying on the crushed ruins of a hut."

"Er – _what?_ "

"Apparently he considered the house I had found for him as not safe enough and decided to make _holidays_ on Sumatra."

"And – where is he now?"

"Just yesterday, I got a postcard from De Moines with a hint that the city is too big for him, despite liking the little houses in some districts and he meant he'd go back to Detroit. I hardly expect him to mean _the_ Detroit; how wonderfully controversial. I suppose, it is the smallest, which only has like a hundred inhabitants, as far as I know, if it even still has."

"Des Moines – "

"Iowa. United States.", Snape finished his soup and sat the dishes next to the bottle.

"That's far from here!", Hermione chuckled.

"So is Indonesia.", she earned herself a bored stare.

"Yeah. So he's travelling around?"

"It appears so, doesn't it? I don't expect him to stay longer than two months in a place. He ever wanted to travel the world and now it seems, he has overcome his laziness.", Hermione nodded approvingly with a weary smile.

"And you? Do you want to travel the world?"

"I have a job to do."

"Of course, but just saying, if You-Know-Who hadn't returned, would you – "

"I have a job to do.", he repeated as cold as her soup was now.

"I'm sure, Dumbledore would find some other Potions teacher."

"And I can do nothing but agree with you, even if it should result in grand catastrophes in the Dungeons. Still, _I have a job to do_."

"Which is?", Hermione murmured urging.

"Private."

"Fine, then not.", she snorted.

"There are things, Miss Granger, which you don't yet understand."

"Then make me.", she pouted at the window the bed was facing.

"No. You are too young."

"I am sixteen. That makes me of legal age to drink alcohol."

"Exactly. That makes you of legal age to launch yourself into the worst mistakes possible."

"You know well what I achieved in those not even four and a half years I've been to this school."

"I do."

"I kept silent about all of your secrets."

"Certainly you did."

"So?"

"It is private. I have come to respect your privacy, Miss Granger. Respect mine, if you would, please. I am your teacher, not your brother, uncle or whatever else you endeavour me to become."

Hermione squinted her eyes. He was right. No matter what they would discuss, he was still an authority and she was to respect him as such, regardless of how often Professor Burbage might offer her help to convince him of momentary exceptions for the sake of it. She should be happy with the fact that he hadn't stood up yet and left, she thought. He had decided to stay with her, alone in the empty Hospital Wing. He had gained enough confidence as to not flee out of the next best window. She startled up.

The bed was moving. He had unlocked the wheels and pushed it over to the apsidal end of the otherwise rectangular room where he halted it with Hermione's right side next to the iron oven so she would see nothing but the beautiful landscape outside if she laid on her left. She watched him swinging her bag onto his shoulder and getting her shoes and the bedside trolley in the same matter. The chair floated after him when he rolled it through the room, fixing all wheels when he arrived at the left side of the bed. His chair settled down and he dropped the bag on the floor again, next to the shoes. Hermione used the time he took a long lasting glance out of the windows for piling up her dishes between his. She decided for a try.

"Sir?"

"Yes?", he didn't turn away from the windows.

"What if somebody else gets injured?"

"I locked the door with a simple spell. Madam Pomfrey will be able to open it in case."

"And what if – what if – _PP_ is the one to get injured?", she swallowed down a giggle.

"Shall she perish.", Snape grumbled.

"So you would let her die?"

"Quite frankly, _yes_."

"That Lily, Professor Burbage mentioned, was she – Harry's mother?", Hermione abhorred those pauses, but she knew she had to grant him all the time he needed for answers he obviously wasn't fond of providing.

"Yes."

"Was she the one who accidentally – "

"Stop declaring yourself dense."

"Alright. How was she?"

"She was not _your_ mother."

"You wouldn't tell Harry a thing either.", she understood.

"She was the kindest being I ever met; apart from my own mother."

"Professor Lupin said something similar."

"Surprise, surprise. _Professor_ Lupin was probably the only among that group of dunces who valued her."

"But he didn't marry her – James – "

"Do not conjecture if you don't know the facts."

"Then tell me the facts.", Hermione moaned. "Sir."

"No. You are too young."

"I'm not!", as though he knew what that cry had caused in her head, he turned around, presenting her with a concerned look.

"And you need to rest. As I said, don't stress your brain. If it is your wish, I will stay. But don't expect me to be much of a company."

Snape waited for a confirming nod, then turned the chair to the semicircular window front, sat down, pulled his so eminent pouch from which he got himself a book, stored the little bag safely and crossed his legs. There was something else he took from a pocket of his robe, but she couldn't see it from her position. Since he brought it up to his face, she guessed it must be some sort of dragée and she considered whether she should ask him for one. But on the other hand it would be quite impolite to ask a teacher for a bonbon. His greasy curtains shutting his face from her, she watched him sit there like a kind of Dementor, though without the cold – and, well, he was _sitting_. She imagined how odd it would look, if a Dementor took itself a chair and sat down on it.

Only the clock above the doors told her that she had spent more than an hour looking at him, the landscape, the blanket she had covered herself with again or the highly fragile decorated old ceiling structure. Getting bored, she sat up and peered over his shoulder to see what he read. A little frustrated, she discovered that she couldn't read the signs at all. Not that they were too far away from her eyes, they were Cyrillic letters.

"I had no idea you could _read_ Russian as well."

"I have spent more than half a year in Ukraine with a Russian. Put one and one together."

"Sorry."

"And there she goes."

"Sor-"

"And goes on."

"Sor-"

"And on and on and further, ever on."

"Stop it!"

It happened so fast that she just realised what she had done, when he straightened again and slightly turned to her with an expression she had never seen on him. It was an alerting mix of different kinds of perplexity. His hair was a complete mess, but he didn't seem to bother. Hermione felt warmth rising to her face and the onion soup revolting against her crumpling stomach. In what appeared like weeks of embarrassment, she made up all possible ways of punishment. From detention to a hundred points taken from Gryffindor, to contacting her parents – but not to that. He gently pressed her down on the tilted head end of the mattress, seized the pillow she had smacked him with from her hands and dropped it on her face.

Panting her own confusion into the feather-filled darkness, she closed her eyes with regret. What had she done? And how – how could he just – do something like _that_? Was it due to her current state? Would she receive the real punishment once she had recovered? Would he ever talk to her again? What had driven her anyway? But he had provoked her, hadn't he? Still – hitting – _him_ – with –

"I can understand that you don't like the way I have my hair,", she heard him saying, muffled by the pillow, and astonishingly indifferent, "But there is no need for demonstrating it so blatantly.", what? "You could have said it."

At the climax of her bafflement, Hermione pulled the pillow from her face and stared at the ceiling, then at the back of his head. His hair was even straighter than before. He must have magically flattened the slightly springy ends.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Would you – accept my apology if I pleaded for it?"

"I see nothing you would need to speak an apology for."

Taking this as her only chance to get away with it, she decided not to probe into it, put the pillow back under her aching head and returned to staring at – the landscape changing under the moving clouds and sun behind, the blanket she every once in a while covered herself with – or the highly fragile decorated old ceiling structure.

To think what happened in the rest of the school – just a handful of people knowing that someone almost died at such an ordinary Saturday – and that person – was overstrained with not needing to do anything. Even if Snape would have let her do her homework, there wasn't any homework left to do. She felt the enormous need to take her wand, blast away the doors of the Hospital Wing and storm to the Gryffindor common room for finishing each and everyone's essays, charts, diaries, whatso–

"Don't you dare to even continue thinking about it."

"What?", Hermione startled. "Hey! You said, you won't – "

"Guess,", Snape sang lazily and fumbled with his pocket another time, "I decided to renege.", he clapped the book shut and Hermione noticed in last split-second that he had actually finished it. "Besides, I said I don't like to be as unfair, not that I wouldn't be."

"And now?"

"Now?"

"What are you going to do now? I mean, is there – "

"Any `homework to do? No. You chose one of those absolutely rare Saturdays of mine; I could have used to do nothing but being myself; for almost dying. Congratulations."

"I'm – disappointed to hear.", not this time, she thought.

"There is no need for you to – "

"I didn't!"

"Feel disappointed."

"Oh damn it! Can't you give it a rest?", Hermione groaned. " _Sir?_ ", better be on the safe side, better be. "So?"

" _So_?", he turned his chair to her.

"What does someone like you normally do when they are just being themselves?"

"I walk around the castle, climb along the rocks, undress myself completely and jump down into the lake. Then I swim to a good spot, climb up all the way and jump again, as often as I feel like."

"Don't make fun of me, Sir.", the girl repined, biting her lip, but he crossed his legs as well as his fingers on the book on his thigh with unchanged expression of disregard. "What do you do?"

"I already finished a book, didn't I?"

"And what do you do when you don't finish reading a book?", he raised an eyebrow.

"I could use that bathroom over there and take a shower, if it pleases you.", he moaned cynical. "Want me to sing you a song?"

"That's enough!", Hermione cried, regretting it immediately when she felt becoming dizzy. "Behave like a man."

"And how does a man behave in your opinion, Miss Granger?", she opened her mouth to say anything, but couldn't come up with a single word. "Yes? _No?_ Pity. If you – _excuse_ me, I actually feel a strange urge to use that bathroom for drowning myself.", he took the book, stood up and marched around the bed.

"Why did you become a teacher, when you hate students so much?"

"I don't _hate_ students, Miss Granger."

"Sure. You despise them.", she mumbled to herself.

"Not nearly."

"Damn!"

"Mind your language."

"Can I use the bathroom first, please?"

"There are two. I hardly reckon you'd wish to take a leak in the men's shower."

Hermione grunted, slid off the bed and followed him. He had already disappeared in the side tower when she lost balance and lurched towards the closest bed she could spot. Before reaching it, she knew she would never do so. The floor came closer and closer and – stopped coming closer. She hung against something that lifted her to her weak feet. She had no idea how he could have been so quick, but he had caught her.

The arms she had held out instinctively were bent and trapped at her chest. His breath on her head and her lips curling, she leant back, incapable of holding herself from crying. The two arms pulled her closer and pressed her fists to her chin. She buried her tightly shut lips in them as to deaden her weeping and only chuckled through her nose. When he tenderly rested his cheek on her hair, she gasped for breath before she covered her open mouth and nose with her flat hands.

"Come.", he whispered so softly that it sent shivers through her entire body. "I will wait for you to be done and bring you back to the bed, if you promise me not to leave it without my permission."

"Okay – ", Hermione aspirated into her hands and wiped off her tears.

~~#~~


	12. Chapter 11 - Check the King

– Chapter 11 –

 **Check the King**

His eyes drilled through between the youngest siblings of an old big wizarding family he knew, across two empty tables and straight into Draco Malfoy's face. The Slytherin was laughing roguishly about some jokes his housemates were telling, too far away for Harry to hear. He didn't care. He didn't even see Malfoy. Too heavy was the weight of that head that rested on his arm.

"She'll be alright,", Neville tried for the thousandth time.

"Yeah.", even Ginny had gotten over her shock.

"Says _Snape_."

"He's saved her life, mate. He really has!", Fred, sitting to Harry's right, joined in. "You should have seen her! It was like she returned from the dead! He just poured that potion down her throat and – bang!"

"He fumbled at her brain, if you can recall.", Harry said hollow, still staring forward. "He pulled out something white."

"In case you never saw splinters of a skull, those things he pulled there might have killed her slowly.", George; to Harry's left; noted. "It was like I had her brain in my hand,"

"Leave it."

"Just because you bore Snape a grudge the very first moment you looked at him, doesn't mean he's a complete arse.", meant Ginny.

"Hermione's infested you.", Ron chuckled.

"Pardon?"

"Remember? Summer? After he stormed the kitchen?", Harry pricked up his ears, but didn't change his position in the slightest.

"Snape's had Snuffles' mother under control, far better than Snuffles himself had."

"Yeah. Blimey.", Ron sighed at the empty table between his arms. "That was the first time I heard him swear, if I think about."

"It was the first time any of us had heard him swear.", George pointed out again. "I'd die for making him do that again."

"You heard him swear.", Ginny noticed. "Just not in English."

"Oh yeah. Damn it. Almost forgot that."

"When did he swear?", Neville listened up.

"That night – you – know – "

"Who returned.", Ginny bent the muttered phrasing to the right meaning.

"Right!", Neville chuckled. "What language was that?"

"Dunno. Not even Dumbledore understood."

"But McGonagall did, didn't she?", Ron remembered as well. "I think I'll just ask her next lesson."

"Don't you dare to, Ron.", Ginny warned.

"There!", he huffed and brandished at her. "Believe me now, that Hermione infested you? I bet she was dead for a second or two and a part of her soul jumped over to – "

"Don't be silly, Ronald.", his sister murmured. "A soul just can't split and divide itself on two people,", somehow this made a bell ring in Harry's head, but since he had no idea why ever and Malfoy's smile was so captivatingly annoying, he decided to ignore it.

"But hang on – what if she really was dead for some seconds? Don't you think we should ask her? What's it like to die, I mean?"

"Ron!"

"Alright, alright! I was just saying. Cool down. I know she needs to rest."

"Yeah. Good, peaceful rest.", Harry huffed. "With Snape at her side."

"He's probably not even there anymore.", Ginny tried to cheer him up.

"He didn't turn up for lunch. We've been sitting here for three hours and he hasn't turned up."

"Maybe he went straight to his office. I've heard that teachers can call meals via their desks. Remember the Yule Ball? It works like that, I think.", said Fred.

"Or he is up there, torturing all the information about the DA out of her.", grumbled Harry, not noticing that Malfoy's smile shortly froze and faded when he caught sight of him, before either's attention was drawn by their friends again.

"Honestly Harry, we have evidence that he hates Umbridge. I really don't think he'd blow us up, nor do I believe he'd be so – "

"Why are they still here?"

"What?"

"Malfoy.", Ginny, Ron and Neville turned, the twins looked up. "Little bootlicker."

"They're just enjoying themselves. Let them. As long as they don't go weird on us, let them be little bootlickers.", George sighed.

~~#~~

Tasting freshly washed teeth was something she absolutely enjoyed. Maybe it were her parents that had implanted that pleasure in her supposedly still swollen brain, but she didn't care. Rain was back, though only to her ears. Judged by his standard hairstyle, she wouldn't have expected him to be valuing a shower that much. Slowly she began to fear he might actually drown himself in there. He had left the main door of the tower as well as the one to the boy's lavatory open, just in case. She sat in the middle of the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, pretty much like he would do, she considered, and studied the decimating clouds. There was a chance for a beautiful sunset today. Not even four o'clock and she was already thinking about sunsets. But she was wearing her pyjamas already. The last time she had done that at four o'clock in the afternoon had been at the age of eight. She had been sick. Silence. He was done.

Glad that he was still alive but sad somehow that the constant sound of the water had stopped, Hermione sighed deeply and stared at her fingernails, for god only knew which reason. Now that she sat there, completely alone with her fingernails, she realised that those she gazed at were the only she knew. She had no idea what his fingernails looked like, nor could she recall Harry's or Ron's or – her parents' even. Finding herself presented with a new, pointless task, she huffed and directed her eyes back on the landscape until she finally heard footsteps from behind. Nevertheless she refused to look at him before he came around her bed, walking towards the windows to her right.

"Now that's an interesting sight,", she didn't know why she had had the split-second urge to quote Luna Lovegood, she just had.

"And what would that be?"

He wore an obvious fresh, white shirt with the usual knuckle-reaching sleeves and black trousers. His hair was bound back in a tight ponytail. Some shorter strands at his face had sprung out and the tail itself was a little bush.

"Would you – ", Hermione suppressed a giggle, "Would you mind freeing your hair, Sir?"

"Why should I be doing so, Miss Granger?"

"Let me think – well, maybe because I'm a little bit curious?", she curled her lips with a childish smile.

"If it satisfies you,", he murmured more than annoyed and pulled off the black rubber band.

Hermione quick-wittedly clapped a hand on her mouth as to prevent herself from bursting into laughter. Now she knew why he preferred the greasiness. His hair was almost as bushy as hers naturally was, and standing into awkward directions every here and there.

"You may – ", she sniffed, still trying her best not to laugh out loud, "Bind that – together again, Sir."

"Girls.", he sighed to himself, lightly shook his head with rolling eyes and did as she demanded. "Are you done with it?", somehow she adored that frustrated frown of his.

"Yes.", she bit her lower lip and sighed as well. "Why?"

"Because it is really disturbing for a man to hear and see a sixteen year old girl laughing about his hair.", Snape murmured.

"I meant, why do you hate Harry?"

"If you mean something and expect it to be understood in that way, don't throw it into a very different context without bespeaking the change of topic."

"Sure.", that blew away all her cheer. "Is it because he's alive? While his mother is dead?"

"No, I don't hate Harry.", the conceited words hit her even more and he fully turned to the windows to let their impact unfold.

"Of course you don't.", Hermione snapped back. "You treat him like a doormat for no specific reason."

"There are things going on in the world around you that are far too complicated for your grasp."

"Am I too young – again?"

"Quite, yes."

"Why are you still here."

"That was not a question."

"No, it wasn't. If you don't like my questions, why then are you still here."

"Just that I don't complement you for your questions, does not mean that I dislike them."

"Why are you really here."

She pleaded, resulting in having to wait for almost a minute. A minute in which she only stared at the clean fresh clothes and that bush of black hair. Why? He usually was so quick giving answers, especially nasty ones to feed people with the acknowledgement that they were to shut up – but he couldn't find an answer to this simple –

"Close your eyes."

And again, Hermione waited for something unknown. Trapped in the dark behind her lids, her eyes couldn't see what he was doing, nor could her ears hear him because he was completely silent. Many seconds passed and she feared he had left without a sound.

Then, almost startling her, there was warm breath against her right cheek. She shivered. The whisper came even softer than after he had saved her from falling. Narrowing her brows, and wondering, she meant to recite what he had said.

"Patamoshto – ya – sabotchusa – tebya? _What?_ "

His breath was gone. Hermione waited whether there would come more or at least an explanation, but soon she realised that there wouldn't. She opened her eyes – and found that she was alone. Confused, she looked around. Where he had stood at the window, was only a neatly placed pair of clean black shoes. That was why. He had taken them off. But where – she spun and peeked past the oven. His back on her, he strolled down the room, silent like a cat.

"Did anyone ever tell you how special you are?", Hermione said very quiet, half hoping he wouldn't hear it, but he stopped walking and raised his head.

"Did anyone ever tell you?", he repeated, equally low.

"My parents,", she counted on her fingers.

"One more already."

"Harry and Ron on occasions,"

"Lily.", he groaned. "And this tosser of a paedophile."

"And you."

"And I. Compared by those counts, you are more special than me."

"Counts are worth nothing."

"Then why starting to count,", he mumbled.

"A heart doesn't count. It values only what it wishes to value."

"Spoken like an old widow who has suffered her entire life from the joys and sorrows of a loving heart."

"Then call me old, Sir."

"No. You are too young to even slightly understand the meaning of your own words."

"What do you know about my understanding."

"A lot."

"Of course. You've seen it all in there.", she ostentatiously pointed on her head, but he still had his back on her anyway.

"Being capable of Legilimency can be a benefit, but it is no use if the opponent knows to close their shutters. Very highly accomplished Occlumens have dashed against their own eyes' fidelity though."

"Can you teach me, Sir? After – that incident – with my – um – ` _daydream_ ´ last year, I've done some research and – "

"Naturally you did. But you are tragically naïve."

"And if I tried hard?"

"It is not a spell you can learn from a book and a little bit of practice on a puppet. It means full control of your mind, body, heart, soul – simply everything there is in connection with your thoughts, memories – and emotions."

"Can you teach me, Professor?", Hermione remained persistent.

"Maybe; that is solely on you. And by all means, not in near future. You would risk your life, given your current health. Having escaped brain death and considering learning to work Occlumency only hours later is either the resolution of a desperate or asinine person, or hopefully just a side effect of your injury."

"I would say, a _focused_ person."

"Likely."

"Fine, if you don't want to teach me Occlumency right now, I can understand. But we cannot just hang around here all day, doing nothing."

"Do your days usually start in the early evening, Miss Granger? And if you should have forgotten, I am your teacher and you are my student.", Snape murmured. "What do you expect us to be doing while you recover from a horrendous accident? Play `I spy´?"

"Well,", chuckled Hermione, "That'd be too easy. I spy with my little eye, a man who loves to deny, that he is too shy, to tell a girl why, he is ashamed to cry. Or even laugh."

"Lovely.", he grunted. "Most entertaining."

"Then what about `Yes or No´?"

"Ah of course! As if we haven't been playing this for hours yet. Very creative."

"What's wrong about this game, Sir? We could make a list. Each refused answer, receives a point. Ten points and the lucky one has to reveal a stunning truth about themselves."

"I would rather try teaching you Russian."

"Good, then you teach me Russian.", she sang, but he didn't look at her yet.

"Get out paper and pencil. No cheating.", he spun and walked back over to her.

Utterly satisfied, Hermione turned to sit against the up-tilted pillow, picked her wand and levitated her bag onto the bed so she could search for the objects in question. Having made space to write on the trolley, she dropped the heavy bag on the floor again and made herself comfortable. Snape sat down opposite to her on the bed's bottom end, cross-legged. She wondered when he had taken off his socks and where they had ended up.

"Who begins?"

"The one who asks.", Hermione presented him with her most evil sneer ever.

"If I must,", he considered for a moment, then asked with an absolute professionalism, "Did you like the onion soup, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. Did you, Sir?"

"Yes.", he replied after a very short second and with a bored eyebrow-wiggle as well as a not much longer lasting smirk. "Does your head still hurt?"

"No. But this is not going to be all about random stuff concerning my state, is it?"

"Yes. Do you love Viktor Krum?"

"What?", Hermione blinked. "Um – that's an – unfair question, Sir – "

"Do you?", he was pushing it insanely high already, she thought, biting her lips with slight regret.

"No.", she swallowed. "Do you love Charity Burbage?"

"No.", strangely a bit disappointed about how quick that came, she sighed. "Not in the way you might wish me to do, or if I was to answer in accordance with your definition of love."

"What – are you gay?", Hermione blinked confused.

"No.", he replied ice cold.

"Bisexual but currently dating a guy?"

"No, and you owe me two questions. Do you ever since she explained them to you, use tampons regularly?", his thoroughly empty expression annoyed her.

"Fine, Hermione, you want it private, you get it private.", she hissed to herself. "Yes. Have you ever experimented with a tampon?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god."

"Do you wish to find that pillow in your face again?", Snape raised his infamous eyebrow.

"No.", chuckled Hermione. "Has it been an – intimate experiment?"

"No. Do you want to hear the story?"

"Yes. What is the story behind your tampon experiment?"

"In our third year I asked Lily for some so I could alternatively test and compare the viscosity of various different antidotes."

"Oh.", Hermione's excitement fell off. "Did Peeves catch Parvati, or why did she have scratches on her face and hands?"

"No. How come you be under the impression that I sent Dobby for Peeves?"

"Er – I – no idea – would – would you say, you have a good relationship with your father?"

"No. Have your parents given up the try to make you wear braces?"

"Yes, thanks to the result of – you know which attack, Professor. Though they weren't too pleased about it. Would you show me your teeth?", he shortly did, surprising her that they indeed weren't as yellow and crooked as she remembered them.

"Happy?"

"Yes.", she chuckled. "Did you work magic on them as well?"

"No. Still two questions, by the way. Do you find Arithmancy easy?"

"I love it! So – yes! Why? Oh – I – I mean – um – did you – consider that because I keep the list in my Arithmancy book?"

"Yes. Are you scared when you think about the O.W.L. examinations?"

"A little, yes. Have you achieved an O in one of your O.W.L.s?"

"No. Eleven."

Silence.

Hermione only gazed at his casual expression, slowly beginning to blink and frown. His eyebrow wandered up a tiny bit, then the corner of his mouth. So did Hermione's with disbelief about both the answer and the slightly embarrassed smile he at last failed to hold back.

"E-eleven?", she breathed.

"And it has been ever since our exams that they asked for conjuring a Patronus as a bonus in the practical Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. already, rather than fully concentrating on it in the N.E.W.T. classes. I can absolutely not see how some of my classmates and I might have had influence on this change; not in the slightest. Four questions."

"So you haven't been the only overly eager student in your year?"

"No. But eventually we ended up being just two who took nine N.E.W.T.s and passed each of them with over hundred percent.", he sighed mournfully; Hermione could do nothing but stare. "If we hadn't been so far apart in the alphabet and in warring Houses, they would have accused us of cheating."

"Lily."

"Yes. She was exceptionally spurred.", he kept his sad half-frown, making Hermione feel guilty about having asked. "Not as insane as I was, though easy learning as well. Five. You are really bad at this game."

"Because you count your refusal to ask questions as me not letting you! Did you use a Time-Turner?"

"By all means, no! If I think back now, I have to admit that I have gotten old. I needed nearly no sleep then and still didn't lose my ability to concentrate. People called me obsessed, but I merely loved school and gathering as much information in my head as possible. I learned the books by heart in no time in the holidays because I rather wanted to read other books during school to come down, did the homework in theoretical classes while still paying attention, spent many hours a week questioning systems and established methods, experimented a lot with different things; I was a very bored student, to say. My mother had taught me too much at home, already before I got my letter. I knew the basics of the entire Hogwarts education as soon as I could write fluently without being aware of the mass I was capable of compared to children my age, but I never really felt that I knew too much. I was enthusiastic and my mother advanced it in, which I believe, was the best she could have done. Six."

"So in school, you were a versatile genius – being scorned for it?"

"In short, yes."

"You just had _her_ , right?", Snape avoided her eyes by looking out of the windows, his arms wrapping himself. "She was the only one who could understand you – fully.", tears stood in his eyes and Hermione knew that if she was to continue, she would hurt him too much as to be able to square it with her conscience. "Dinner?"

He pressed his right hand on his mouth and shut his eyes for some seconds, then just eyed the floor, apparently unaware that he did. He studied his fingernails briefly – and rested his forehead on them. She wished she had the courage to give that rubber band a tearing flick so he wouldn't be forced to expose himself so much to her.

"Write down what you would like to have, I'm in the lavatory.", he mumbled, slid off the bed and slouched off. "Trying to find eight more things I could ask you."

~~#~~

Dinner had passed in silence. After they had brushed their teeth alone in separate bathrooms, he allowed her to read a book. She knew he did that partly to see whether she was actually recovering – and because he didn't want to be confronted with his past, should she start questioning him again. But she wouldn't have, at least not on purpose. So they had spent two hours reading, each by themselves. The sun had already set and she clapped her book shut in the light of the lamp on the bedside trolley. Hearing that, he did the same in the shine of a little light-ball that floated next to him and put away his own book. For some moments he only looked at his own reflection in the glass.

"How are you doing, Miss Granger?", he slightly turned his head.

"Fine, actually.", she considered. "I feel, I could leave this place tomorrow already.", that saddened her, but she had to admit to herself that she couldn't spend the rest of her life with him in the Hospital Wing.

"Good. Do you wish to go to sleep?"

"Definitely. Just sitting around makes me tired, even if I don't happen to almost die before it."

Snape gave a stiff nod, raised and the light vanished like he did in the otherwise dark room. Curious, she watched him unlock the wheels of another bed and roll it over to hers. It just fitted in the space between the trolley and the windows. Then he disappeared in the bathroom again – and returned wearing only a pair of Oxford blue pyjamas and his hair loose. He made himself comfortable in the bed and looked at her until she finally composed her senses and laid down as well. A snap of his fingers turned off the lamp.

Scarce light from the Grand Tower's many windows fell inside and onto the white blanket he had pulled up to his head. His black hair slightly shimmered, but she could hardly see his face. Nevertheless she felt that he hadn't closed his eyes yet.

"Sir?", Hermione whispered.

"Yes?", he whispered back.

"Thank you.", no reply, just calm silence. "Um – I know it's – how to say – I don't want to be – would it be asked too much if – "

He broke her off without a word, but simply by leaving his bed. To her surprise, he sat down at the edge of hers and she instinctively slid back towards the oven. Obviously having understood her plea, he lifted her blanket and laid down beside her on his right, the bed just big enough for them and even some space between. Both waited for the other to say something. They waited so long that they fell asleep before they could speak another word.

~~#~~

When she woke up early next morning from a wondrously dreamless sleep, he already sat sideways at the window front, fully dressed, and the second bed was gone. His hair was a little straighter than on the previous day, but still quite bouffant. Legs crossed and hands in his lap, he looked out into a grey, cloudy dawn. Hermione rubbed her eyes. The hilltops in the distance were more silvery grey than the brown below. Fog? Hoarfrost? Or had it – snowed overnight in the higher regions? He lowered his head, looking at something in his hands. It was so small she couldn't see what it was. But when he lifted his hands to his neck, she realised that it was some sort of necklace. He tucked it away beneath his clothes, buttoned them up, lowered his hands to their former position and gently turned his head towards her. His soft greet had nothing lively and the slow blinking of his eyes emphasised the woe he didn't bother to hide.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning, Professor."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I can't recall having slept better ever before.", she considered; his head zoomed to the window so fast she startled. "Would you – help me to the toilet, please?"

"If you manage to make me be stupid enough to work out ten questions – oh don't look at me like that,"

Huffing, Hermione glided out of bed, into her slippers. Before she could stand straight, he was at her side and reached under her arm. After only a few steps, she noticed that she could walk far better already and that she might not need his support anymore. But it felt good.

Half an hour later, she was in full school uniform though, her slightly greasing hair plaited and all her pimples covered with makeup. He was about to open the unlocked doors, but she stopped him.

"Sir,", she aspirated.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Before we go out there – and have to act like nothing ever happened – you should know – you were wrong.", he didn't respond, but eyed her with interest. "You were the best company I could have had. Thank you.", though hesitantly, she reached up and laid her arms around his neck, nestling her head to it, standing on the tips of her shoes. "You may treat me like usual, Professor; I will act like usual. If you need anything, and if it is just silence, let me know."

She didn't expect an answer. It wasn't necessary. But he gave her an answer: his arms wandered up her back and held her close, gratefully. At least another five minutes passed before they slipped from the warming embrace and made their way to the Great Hall. She knew it was impolite, but she wished she could read his mind and figure out what had been going on in there while she had actually forced him to accept her closeness.

Getting her assumption confirmed, she could move alone without losing balance or getting a headache. The speed wasn't considerably fast, but not much slower than it would have been when she took a leisure walk. Though staircases turned out to be more difficult. Worried she might stumble, or shake her brain too much, he did his best to avoid stairs by using of a number of slopy shortcuts she had not known yet. They arrived in the Entrance Hall at seven o'clock, finding the tables behind the gilded doors empty. _Almost_ empty. When she heard the sound of their shoes, she raised her head from her father's magazine.

"Good morning, Sir, good morning, Hermione.", the airy voice drifted towards them. "So it seems, you got well, then?"

"Yeah – I'm – fine again. Thanks, Luna. And – good morning.", Hermione sighed and signified that she could walk alone from then on.

Their teacher waited for her to sit down next to Luna at the Ravenclaw table. She felt his concerned looks in her neck with every step she took. Normally the tables were already set for breakfast when she arrived, but now there was nothing but Luna's plates. One for her appeared along with a cup of coffee. Right when she wanted to help herself to a sip, a hand was laid onto the cup, blocking even the smell of it. Startled, Hermione looked up at him, appearing as worried as she had felt him to be.

"You are better off with that, Miss Granger. Abstain a little."

The man pulled back his hand and walked on between the rows, up to his yet lone seat at the staff table. Curious what he meant, Hermione eyed the cup. It now contained tea. She lifted it and recognised the smell immediately: spearmint.

~~#~~


	13. Chapter 11 - Watchmen

– Chapter 12 –

 **Watchmen**

"But you got to be able to fix that!", pleaded the man, in tears.

They stood waist-deep in cold water that rose with every second. It stank like sewage and all kinds of slimy and hairy heaps were gliding along the surface, spinning around them. She could have sworn to have seen a dead crow floating some feet ahead.

b

"You _have_ to, Miss Granger. You _have_ to! Don't you see?"

He pointed at the thick pipe that was hardly visible in the cesspool that once had been a bright kitchen. From its end, a head with little hair appeared, shoulders, a stomach – within seconds, the corpse with slightly translucent but parchment-like skin reached the surface that already stood to her chest. Even worse, she had to find the body not being dead at all. Its eyelids had melted down and the crooked yellow teeth inside the lipless mouth gaped. Clack! They fell shut. Clack! And had opened and shut again. The sound penetrated her ears, becoming louder as the undead monster drew near.

"Miss Granger! Break the cup!"

"But my parents are dentists!", she muttered "I never learned to be a plumber! And which cup!"

"Break the cup, Miss Granger!"

"But _how_!"

Smack! The corpse had reached out and given her a clap around the ear. Laughter ringing in her head. Her cheek hurt and even though it had happened about two months ago, her brain felt like exploding for a some seconds.

"Be quiet, you intolerable hussies.", immediate silence. "Now will you wake up at last, Miss Granger? Don't give me such a look.", McGonagall huffed.

"Have you – have you just – _slapped_ me, Professor?", Hermione blinked, trying to sit up.

"Indeed, I have. After what happened to be the fiftieth try to wake you. Not even those immaturities you call your roommates could tear you from your wondrous – "

"Nightmare.", she panted, realising that she was covered in sweat, which was as cold as though she had actually stood in that water.

"What was that?"

"A – nightmare – ", moaned Hermione.

"Not you as well!", McGonagall shrieked, noticing the fact Hermione just had.

"What?"

"Now get up!"

"Alright, alright!", but she was way too dizzy. "What do you mean by `as well´, Madam?", she asked, robbing her eyes and cheek, trying to see the flushed girls encircling her bed in the wand-lit room; otherwise it was all dark.

"You will hear, if you follow me. The Headmaster wishes to see you."

"Me?", Hermione gasped, finally seeing that her Head of House; wearing a dressing gown over her nightshirt and her braid being a total mess; looked like she hadn't had any sleep at all. "What time is it anyway?"

"Five minutes to six o'clock in the morning and your holidays haven't started yet. So grab your legs and follow me, before _Professor_ Umbridge turns the entire school upside-down."

"Behind Ethesa Lawnhatch.", Hermione mumbled when she put on her slippers and took the first cloak she could get hold of from her trunk, as well as her wand and marched off.

"I beg your pardon?", McGonagall followed her outside and down into the common room.

"I said, behind the portrait of Ethesa Lawnhatch.", she repeated when passing the empty chairs and sofa. "Just one landing down. There is a secret passageway leading right up to a tapestry door next to that Gargoyle statue."

"And how would you know about that one?"

"I just know.", the girl moaned and two minutes later McGonagall could actually already speak the password without having had to move all around in the Grand Tower and several corridors.

"Fizzing Whizzbee."

Still robbing her eyes every few seconds and having an urge to vomit at the taste in her mouth, she felt the cold crawling up her sweat-soaked pyjamas. A very familiar voice raged from behind the door.

"Are ye _mental_?"

"Certainly not.", Dumbledore spoke calm, but loud enough to be heard.

"How can ye le' 'im ou' o' Hogwarts? Ter Grimmaul' Place?"

"He is as secured here as he is there. If Voldemort already managed to – "

"Bu' tha's tha poin' isn' it? 'E knows wha' Hogwarts's like. If 'e sees _tha'_ 'ouse – "

"Then I think, your part in this is clear, don't you as well?"

"No.", it was not unknowingness, it was refusal.

"Then why note yourself that we became vulnerable if you – "

"'Cause tha's waste o' time, tha' is."

"I believe otherwise. If anyone can teach him to shield his mind perfectly, then you, Severus. After all – "

"Tha's diff'ren'. Ye dun' see. 'E's go' 'is mother's lack in tha' case."

"How can you be so sure? Have you not learned from the past? That you misjudged the boy before?"

" _Ye dun' see_ , ol' man!"

"There is no space for objection. Harry has to learn Occlumency and I will not be the one to teach him. If Voldemort indeed notices the connection and switches it, I am afraid, we will lose everything. He will not be interested in getting _you_ through him though. I am positive you can make up a story, should he find out and question you about your reasons for training Harry."

"Alrigh'.", Snape said grim. "'S tha' all?"

"For the time being, yes.", finally having unfrozen, McGonagall knocked in a rather strange way, "Do come in, Minerva.", and entered the drab room with Hermione on her heels. "Ah yes, thank you! Severus, you may leave,"

Snape was even more pale than ever and his hair was a nice chaos atop his black robe and cloak. All fury fell off at last when he spotted Hermione.

"But stay available, please.", Dumbledore finished; she was quite surprised to see him sitting on his desk, rather than behind.

"I'll be at St Mungo's. I know Nagini. Maybe I can help Hippocrates with the antidote."

"I more thought of taming our guest from the Ministry. You may write Mr Smethwyck a letter; Fawkes will deliver it for you."

"Then prepare him on a busy day.", murmured Snape. "A venom cannot be discussed through a single inch of parchment. It could though, if they hadn't placed Francis in the wrong department. He's much easier to work with. Less of a dickhead."

"Very well.", the Headmaster sighed.

"So PP's upset?", asked Hermione, her arms crossed, ignoring the snort she received from McGonagall, as well as Dumbledore's curiosity.

"`PP´, Miss Granger?"

"St Mungo's? Nagini? Connection? Occlumency for Harry? Waking me from a stupid nightmare at six o'clock in the morning? What's that all about!", she snapped, only looking at Snape.

"Tell her, Albus.", suggested McGonagall. "That is what you let me bring her for, isn't it?"

"That is a really interesting nightmare you had there, Miss Granger.", meant Dumbledore.

"Hey!", she hissed. "I request taking part in Harry's lessons!"

"Not while a slap in the face could still wreak havoc. Minerva, I advise you to desist from methods like this. Considered Miss Granger's physical condition, _such_ , might kill her."

"Pardon me?", the woman's eyes travelled between the two.

"Please go back to sleep, Minerva. You look dreadful.", said Dumbledore.

"I am perfectly fine. A cup of – "

"Do as he says.", Snape growled. "As you heard, he is not in the mood for, what was it? Ah yes, _objections_."

McGonagall merely puffed, turned on the spot and left the office without closing the door. That fell shut gently at a wave of Snape's hand.

"And what is this going to be, if you may tell me?", Dumbledore frowned at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Didn't I ask you to leave?"

"You asked for me to stay available."

"Very entertaining."

"I will not leave you alone with her. _Didn't I_ say that her brain is not in the constitution to stand constant penetration?", his eyes drilled into hers, waking a strange, cosy sensation, just as though she was back in her bed, kept warm, without nightmares.

"Ah well, you may put down this shield, Severus. I promise I will not mean her harm, if you enlighten me about that physical condition of hers, you do so carefully mention."

"Rather I'd die.", he said determined, not taking his eyes off hers; Hermione blushed.

"Excuse me?"

"I promised not to tell. You know very well that I will not break my honest promises if it is possible for me to keep them in at least an exiguous way."

"Fine, then. Miss Granger, if you would sit down please,", he offered her the empty chair in front of the desk when he raised and walked around to his own throne-like.

Unable to avoid a yawn, Hermione held her hand on her mouth to cover it while she slouched over and did as he said. Now she became really tired and shivered. For whatever reason, the fireplace wasn't lit. The only light in the room came from various candles on stands around them, higher up. The feeling nearly made her jump. Even Dumbledore looked startled by the act: Snape had thrown his cloak over her as soon as she sat and held it onto her shoulders from behind. That touch of his was even warmer than the fabric he had worn.

"Since when do you show such care towards a student of yours, Severus?"

"Since it has been your habit to do the opposite.", Snape replied harshly.

"I am not – "

" _Nor am I in the mood for arguments._ ", he snarled into his words.

~~#~~

Thick snow was falling from the sky. Actually she had accepted to stay at Hogwarts for the first three days of the wondrously early starting holidays and then go to London by train with the others. Now she was holding a letter in hand. She would be dropping it in the first post-box she came across since owl travels weren't safe anymore, especially into and out of the school. A little sad that she wouldn't spend Christmas with her parents again, she slipped the envelope into her shoulder bag, buttoned up the coat, put on her earmuffs and gloves and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Then – she nearly collapsed. She had forgotten how heavy her trunk was with all the books, but she wouldn't let any of them behind, not with Umbridge roaming the castle.

Sighing, she pulled her wand and levitated the trunk into the empty common room; where she picked up Crookshanks; and through the portrait hole. People hadn't at all bothered coming ba#ck upstairs, but went outside into the snow right after the last classes. Even the tower was empty. Having the strange feeling that she had missed some very important information, she made her way down into the Entrance Hall – alone. It was like the school had been evacuated. Therefore she startled when she saw the tall man with short ash-blond hair and beard leaning at the door in the closed oaken front gates. He wore a black winter cloak over a grey suit and held a broom in hand.

"Miss Granger?", he asked with a very coarse voice.

"Yes?", she answered hesitantly.

"Dirk Cresswell.", the man offered her his hand when she had closed up.

"Hello. Wait – I know you – Goblin Liaison Office?"

"That's right."

"Dumbledore said, someone from – well, someone would wait for me in Hogsmeade. I didn't expect to – "

"Don't worry, I'm in the Order.", he whispered and winked. "Now. He changed the plan. Thought, it'd be better if I'd picked you up here already so you wouldn't be going anywhere alone."

"Do you happen to have any assumption why the school is – so empty, Sir? I mean, okay, I know some people went outside, but aren't – "

"I happen to have an assumption, yes. They're obviously busy watching the mess in the East Wing."

"Mess?", Hermione frowned.

"One of your teachers picked me up with the message from Dumbledore. Lent me his broom.", he brandished with the broomstick. "Said, he'd be sending Peeves for a nice little distraction so that Umbridge twerp wouldn't catch you."

"Who was it?", she chuckled, guessing the answer already.

"Strange guy. Was a year above me in school and different House. Always best marks but a bit of a trouble maker. Obviously hasn't given up on that. Now come on, before she gets Peeves under control; though I hardly reckon she can, if you know what I mean."

"Sure. Er – we aren't going to _fly_ to London, are we?", Hermione moaned.

"Oh no, no. Just down to Hogsmeade. Then we'll take the Knight Bus."

"Good. I'm not too much in for flying on brooms."

"Ah – that'll go by. They consider me a good flyer. You'd not even notice that we took off and you're on the ground already. C'mon.", Cresswell attached her now light trunk to the broom and climbed the stick. "I hope, you don't mind holding on to a man,"

"Not yet.", she smiled mischievously and mounted the broom behind him, carefully holding to his waist with one hand, surprised that Crookshanks remained calm between her other arm and her chest.

"Good, now. Ready?"

"Yes.", though her stomach did an odd twist.

"Here we go!"

Cool air rushed past them as they flew through the corridors and out between windowless arches at the first possibility. Snowflakes hit her face and she considered it would be better if she kept her head in the wake of his back. The sky behind the clouds was already slightly darkening when they flew over the lake. A humming noise and the feeling of being squeezed through a bubble startled her. They had passed the barrier with full permission and were now heading directly towards the snowy roofs of Hogsmeade.

Smoke rose from the chimneys and some people could be seen outside, wandering between the old houses. But Cresswell landed far down the street, right by the front door of the Hog's Head. Immediately the barman was at one of the dusty windows and pulled a curtain aside to see what was going on outside. They greeted one another with a short wave and nod and the curtains were shut again. Her guide placed her trunk securely by a heap of snow and took a strange, small, silver-green bag with strings from a front pocket.

"Mokeskin.", he told her when the broom disappeared inside with ease. "Useful little things.", the pouch was back in the pocket and the pocket buttoned securely. "Now. Let's see whether they still have a seat for us."

Cresswell threw his arm sharply up and Hermione jumped at the trumpeting sound and a loud BANG. Out of nowhere, the purple triple-decker braked in the street, appearing far too big for it but still fitted in, somehow. Though Madam Rosmerta's black cat Lilith that had meant to cross the street, protested loudly on the close escape. Her own didn't even stir. A door sprung open and out stepped a thin young man in a uniform that strangely reminded her of a postman, but fitted the colour of the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight – ", he started but was cut off harshly.

"Oh save it, Stan. We know what we're using."

"Right, right. Then get in – Mr Cresswell, isn't it?"

"Better not boast about it."

"Course. Feel at home, then."

"Thanks."

He searched for some Sickles while Stanley heaved Hermione's trunk into the bus groaning heavier than the trunk was, placing it under two seats right in the front row. Hermione sat down by the window.

"You're dead yet, Ern?", he panted. "Let's go!"

And Hermione was glad that she had taken the window-side seat. Cresswell could barely sit down before the bus jolted away already. The landscape was passing by so fast she could only see white and grey stripes. Purring on her lap, Crookshanks did his best to calm her.

"Now where're you wanna go?"

"London, Hobgoblin."

"That Muggle pub in White Lion Street, right?"

"Yes."

"Heard that, Ernie?"

"Yep,", said the driver.

"Great. What'd you be doin' there?"

"Pickling frogs.", Cresswell grunted grim just the blink of an eye before one loud BANG would startle her.

"Okay, okay. 'T's _your_ business, I get it. And who're you?"

"Martha Townsend.", was the first thing Hermione had in her mind, not knowing why she suddenly remembered a girl from primary school she had never even spoken to.

"Never heard of you.", Stan eyed her.

"Well, now you have.", Hermione replied briskly after another BANG and with a fake grin, having come to the conclusion that there was another way of transport she didn't like.

"And what're you doin' with Mr Cresswell here?"

"I am the niece of a good friend of his and he offered me a job as an intern.", Hermione bent over whispering just loud enough, feigning secretiveness. "We are going to the Ministry, but first we have to pick up my uncle from that pub. Auror undercover, you see."

"Oh – now I understand!", Stan whispered back. "You look a little too young for a job as an – "

"She's in seventh year and of age already.", Cresswell hissed into the play. "Considers starting in my office."

"Know a bit 'bout Goblins, young Lady?"

"They are respectable beings. If you treat them with mistrust but honest respect, you are in their favour."

"Yeah.", Stan thought thoroughly. "Yeah! I never got along with them though,"

"Well, then you obviously got it wrong.", Hermione said snooty.

"S'ppose so. Hang on – I've seen you somewhere before. Gryffindor?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"'S that Umbridge still wreakin' havoc?"

"She is.", Hermione sighed, but choked on the driver's gnarling.

"That old toady? I'd donate a year's salary to the Auror Veteran Fund for a bucket of her blood to repaint Fudge's house."

"That is not a wise thing to say aloud,", she gargled.

"You Ravenclaws and your wisdom.", puffed Stan, yet joined into Ernie's chuckling. "But damn. I coul' swear, I saw you in Gryffindor uniform once. Or even – wait – weren't you on the _Prophet_ last – oy, new passenger! Hold on tight!"

It was hard to do so, but Stan's loss of topic was definitely worth it. Eventually the woman was in and paid for a ride to Bristol. Hermione noticed that they had already arrived somewhere in London, but she had never been to the specific place. Dusk had fallen over the snow-covered alley, the flakes being as thick as up in Scotland. A loud BANG, some very close manoeuvres and not even a minute later, there was another BANG and they arrived in a shop-crammed old street. Lights were on in the pub, but nobody was outside when they left the bus that departed with a last BANG.

A hunk of a man with short, reddish brown hair and beard passed them in the crossing street, not paying attention to anything else than his way, home perhaps. Glad that the pavement was ploughed, Hermione pulled her trunk some yards, following Cresswell with Crookshanks trotting at her heels. Though Cresswell stopped, turned and saved her the trouble.

"Thank you.", she panted gratefully.

"Not at all."

He smiled and they walked on through the cold. It was then that the other man turned as well. Hermione couldn't help noticing the noise of his shoes scratching the ground and the stare from behind and looked back over her shoulder. There was something familiar to him, she considered. Something to his face. He strangely looked a bit like Harry, only more rough. His nose was different though, but even that appeared peculiarly familiar as well. And the way he gazed at her cat and then her pocket – Hermione did a short checking glance. The hilt of her wand stuck out.

Then he looked past her, at Cresswell, who had abandoned walking like either. Her eyes travelled between the two men, wondering whether they knew one another. Cresswell seemed to be close to fainting, bizarrely stunned by the sight of that man. She could downright hear his heart pound at his throat. The stranger eyed him with growing interest, as though trying to break into his soul. A hand seized hers.

"Come on. There's no time for lingering."

Cresswell simply pulled her and her trunk down the street, past a bus stop. Hermione turned her head once more to see whether the other man followed them, but he had decided to walk on as well, yet not without a last glance himself.

"Did you know him?", she couldn't miss the pause before he answered.

"Yes."

"Is he – dangerous?", another.

"No. Not anymore. At least not to me.", they approached a small park; Hermione recognised it and the buildings behind the leafless trees.

"So he's _been_ dangerous? What did he do?", Cresswell let go of her hand.

"Nice story, there in the bus, by the way. Have to remember that a friend of mine has a niece called Martha Townsend now. But I don't think you should ever take that bus again. Unless you can scratch yourself off Stan's memory.", Hermione giggled flatly and wiped a cold snowflake away which had landed on her nose, a little annoyed that some of her makeup got stuck on her glove. "Ever really consider working as an intern, or regularly after school, you know where to find me."

"Alright! Thanks!", she chuckled, her thoughts still with the stranger. "I might just take up on that."

"Great!"

They had crossed the deserted park and the buildings jumped to life, revealing another door without the notice of the inhabitants around. To her surprise there was some snow on the stairs and they had difficulties climbing them with the trunk. Without thinking, Hermione rang the doorbell – and earned a menacing glance from Cresswell and even that looked disturbingly familiar now. Had the bus deranged her brain?

"Sorry.", she mumbled and the door opened, revealing a flustered Mrs Weasley and the screams of Walburga Black.

"Oh good evening, dear!", she greeted Hermione with open arms and a warm smile that was far from her usual.

"Good evening, Mrs Weasley.", Hermione had difficulties to breathe.

"And you too, Dirk.", they shook hands after Mrs Weasley had let go of her.

"Evening, Molly."

"For Christ's sake! Shut up!", Sirius bellowed behind her and she let them in.

" _You do not tell me off, you worthless lout!_ ", the portrait raged on and Cresswell squeezed himself past, abandoning Hermione's trunk at the closed door. " _I have given birth to you and all you can do is defiling this noble house with the scum you let in!_ "

Like always, Sirius struggled with the curtains, loudly cursing the person that had painted her with a rather functional wand. Cresswell pulled his own, flipped it and simply stabbed it into her eye with some sparks emitting. Mrs Black let out an actual cry of pain and jumped out of her frame to some other painting in the house, her free hand on the eye.

"Good gracious – how did you do that?", Sirius aspirated, indeed amazed.

"Natural talent, I suppose.", answered Cresswell, but it wasn't Creswell's voice that spoke.

"I knew it!", Hermione yelped; Sirius tilted his head with a frown.

"Not even able to escort a fifteen year old girl as yourself, Snivvy?"

"Sixteen.", Snape corrected him.

"Pardon?"

"She is sixteen. But of course you are incapable of getting hold of such information. Forgive me my brief lack of memory."

"You – ", growled Sirius but found himself stopped by the tip of that black wand at his throat.

"Nah, nah, you do not wish me to spoil this rotten house even more, do you?", sneered the owner, ignoring the cat between their feet that seemed to be trying to persuade both to calm down.

"Thank you for this charming defence, Professor,", Hermione interfered with a tone as languid as his, "But I think I can live well with Sirius not knowing my birthday."

A little relieved, she saw him lowering his wand and turn to her with a snort. That he was looking like Dirk Cresswell was indeed abnormally odd. But right when Mrs Weasley opened her mouth for a word, he winced, clutching the fingers of his left hand with his eyes squeezed shut. Crookshanks dedicated more to his legs now.

"'Is can' be fer real – ", he quietly huffed into space.

"Not good.", moaned Hermione.

"My words.", Snape sighed. "It seems, the second reason has to wait."

"Second reason?"

"Positive is, he believes me to be at Hogwarts. Therefore I have a window of five minutes."

"How long until the effect of the potion wears off?"

"Approximately half an hour,", he gained breath again.

"Absolutely not goo-"

"No need to bother me, Miss Granger.", he interrupted her likewise and reached under Cresswell's suit and shirt for something she knew well by now. "I have learned from last year."

"Meaning?", Mrs Weasley asked, watching him summon a small bottle containing some clear liquid with great interest.

"That.", he said and shortly raised the bottle when he had caught it.

"Don't tell me, you have found something that lifts the effect of Polyjuice Potion?"

"I didn't _steal_ Dirk's hair and clothes. I _asked_ him for it in return for a favour I had done him. As it happens, there had been another favour. He was kind enough to tell me the secret of the Thief's Downfall at Gringotts. Cheers."

Snape grinned very artificial and took a swig, shuddering momentarily. As if the appearance fell off him like water, seconds later he just looked like himself again, though about two inches taller, which affected the trousers and sleeves.

"If _nobody_ minds, I would like to use the bathroom. Don't worry, Paddy. Other than you, I am domesticated. I will take your trunk to your room, Miss Granger.", he easily picked up the big Crookshanks, levitated the trunk over the heads of the dumbfounded females and hurried upstairs.

"Sycophant.", Sirius snarled under his breath.

"I have ears, rat-glutton."

Sirius gave the empty frame of his mother an irate glare. Mrs Weasley had reached the top of her confusion so far and Hermione fought against a fit of giggles.

"He's got a good point on that.", she noticed, but Sirius just huffed, spun around and disappeared downstairs to the kitchen.

"I will ask him to send Kreacher up to Harry's room with some sandwiches.", Mrs Weasley sighed. "Bossing the elf around gives him at least some satisfaction. Harry is with Buckbeak, dear. You might want to get him out of there before he – runs out of rats."

"Alright, Mrs Weasley. Until later, then.", Hermione smirked bleakly and went up.

Just when she turned for the stairs to the second floor, the bathroom door swung open. She instinctively jumped aside, so it missed her by about a foot. But he was visibly shocked when he noticed how careless he had been.

"Sorry – are you all right, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. No harm done."

"Good. Be careful."

"You as well, Professor. That suits you better, by the way. Better than that Cresswell's clothes."

"Certainly.", he was already one landing down when she stopped him.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Um – will I be meeting you again before Monday?"

"Quite likely, but I cannot guarantee.", he raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well – otherwise – Merry Christmas."

Hermione blushed. For a moment he only gazed at her in the gloom, a strange glistening in his dark eyes. His lips curled with bashfulness.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Granger.", he replied in a soft whisper, then a flicker of a smile flashed over his lips and he was gone.

~~#~~

Quick-witted, she rushed back out before the door could close and hurtled upstairs, a bit more careful past the sleeping painting behind the curtain and the umbrella stand, leaving it soundless in place as it should be. There was no time for thinking about manners or respect or anything alike. He turned with his right hand almost at the handle of the front door, when she grabbed his left wrist and pulled him further upstairs. Not prepared, he unwillingly gave in; then, her grip was too firm to resist without force that would have very definitely resulted in a disaster. Another door was torn open and she pushed him inside, shutting it behind and leaning to it so he couldn't escape too easily. Totally disarranged, he stumbled towards the closer one of the two beds and nearly fell into it when he wanted to turn before he could stand straight. To prevent him from starting to think without her permission, she panted the facts in his face.

"For the – _urgently_ required – start of Harry's – Occlumency lessons – it took you quite – a time – to come back here – and tell him – Sir.", he just gazed at her, but seconds later he gave his head a short, composing shake, though not without frowning.

"I have been busy."

"Busy. For seventeen days."

"The Dark Lord – he – "

"Yes?", Hermione demanded brazen, crossing her arms.

"He has been planning something and entrusted me with a rather difficult task. Believe me, if he had noticed that utmost questionable connection, I would know."

"Okay, I believe you, Sir. But planning something? What?"

"May I remind you, that you are not in the Order,"

"I am founder and part leader of an illegal student organisation that strives for being able to defend themselves against Death Eaters. I don't give a damn whether I'm in the Order or not, to be honest, Professor.", she replied cold and it surprised her to see him actually beaten.

"You will – ", Snape considered, "If it should work and Fudge isn't silly enough to do everything to keep it from leaking, you will read about it soon in the _Prophet_.", he sighed.

"That's all? _I will read about it_? He's thrown you in some top secret mission, probably of mortal danger, and all you can tell me is that ` _I will read about it_ ´?

"You are not my mother, Miss Granger. I do not need to account for anything to you.", he growled.

"He doesn't care about Christmas or New Year, does he?", by the moment the moaned question had left her mouth, she realised how naïve it was.

"He never put value in those. There are other purposes in his life, such one of our kind does understand as much as he understands why one of our kind might possibly put value in events like celebrating the birth of some chosen saviour that supposedly lived about two thousand years ago.", a drab silence fell over the room, but Hermione broke it after less than a minute.

"Have _you_ had time to have Christmas, Sir? Or don't you put any value in that either?"

"There have hardly been any pleasant Christmases in my life so far, Miss Granger. I am used to not celebrating it, or the arrival of a new year full of frustration.", Hermione's head sank to her chest.

"And this time?"

"I could – smuggle myself away – a couple of days – for Christmas.", he mumbled the confession and Hermione raised her eyes, first, then her entire head again, blinking.

"Where have you been?", she whispered.

"That is private."

"Where.", the girl insisted.

"I have paid – an old acquaintance a visit.", he quietly huffed to the worn off carped under his shoes.

"Professor Karkaroff?", was the first person that came to her mind.

"No. He however sent me a Dreamcatcher."

"Charming."

"Oh yes."

"So he's still in America?"

"Again, I think."

"Who then? The man we ran into?"

"Yes.", he sighed, along with a stiff nod.

"So?", a tiny chuckle escaped her.

"So?"

"You've stayed there for – a couple of days, as you said. How was it?"

"As expected – ", he considered, blinking heavily at the corner. "And not – "

"And that is meaning?"

"It is private, Miss Granger.", Snape murmured.

"Alright.", she moaned, seeing that he actually held back some tears, and although that especially made her wonder who by all means that man was, she decided not to trouble her teacher too much. "I won't ask again, sorry.", by the annoyed glare he gave her on that, she had to laugh. "I know. I can't always help it, Sir,"

"It is fine.", he shrugged her off. "Just – let me leave this house, please. I'd better prefer being at Hogwarts, exhausting PP, so she doesn't keep too much of her holiday recovery."

Agreeing, Hermione stepped aside and opened the door for him, though stopped him on the threshold by reaching for his left upper arm, her right palm flat but gentle to it. She knew it was dangerous, but she couldn't let him go, not with that mood. Her hand glided up to his neck while she did the missing step to his chest and laid her arms around him. It took some seconds, but he also put his arms on her back, their heads barely touching.

Having no knowledge of how many minutes passed, they separated at last and with a weary smirk he paced towards the stairs. Shock shot through Hermione's body, and even his perhaps, telling from the mutual stare they gave the girl who stood on the second-topmost stair to them.

"Ginny – you – please – ", Hermione aspirated, but the other girl seemed unimpressed. "Forget what you saw – it's – nothing – really – "

"And what, that is nothing, am I supposed to forget?", Ginny meant, costing Hermione some seconds of thinking before she realised that her friend wouldn't boast about the occurrence.

"Thank you.", the whisper wasn't Hermione's.

"For what?", she played her part quite well.

"For stepping aside.", he noted and presented her with the faintest hint of a grateful smile before he literally glided downstairs, without a sound.

"Ginny,"

"What!", she snapped, but continued in a quiet hissing tone. "I'm not stupid, you know? He's stayed with you in the Hospital Wing. I can put one and one together. You're obviously keeping some secret and it's none of my business. Actually I'd be glad if you told him about the DA. The way he treats Umbridge, I have a feeling we might just need him as an ally. The more often you hug him, the better."

"Er – "

"I was joking.", Ginny huffed. "I don't care how you thank him. Just try not to do it in public. Others aren't as detached, that much I can tell you."

"I know. So you also believe, we can trust him?"

"No matter what the two – or rather _three_ say, Crookshanks isn't stupid."

"Crookshanks? What's he got to – "

"I could see him jump up on Snape's lap before Mum threw us out. If that cat trusts him,"

"Yes.", considered Hermione. "He's been right about Sirius and Pettigrew as well."

~~#~~


	14. Chapter 13 - Progress for progress' sake

– Chapter 13 –

 **Progress for progress' sake**

There was one thing that differed those two office doors and she loved it. It was the fact that she could hear what was going on on the other side. Therefore she heard the answer immediately and stepped in, though still careful whether someone had seen her.

"Good evening, Hermione. What can I do for you?"

Like at the first time she had been to that office, the woman sat at her desk, working over papers. But there was a change and that leapt out at her, naturally, because it was directly to her left. Though already crammed, she had somehow found space for something as pompous as this and despite being January already, the big gum tree was decorated with golden and silver balls, stars and tinsel.

"Nice – er – Christmas tree, Professor,", Hermione eyed it.

"Lovely, isn't it? I came back here from some days off and it just stood there with decoration and all and a note whether I'd like to adopt it. I haven't seen him doing something that charming in years. Way too cute to not accept the plea.", something distracted Hermione and made her blink – did that tree smell like – "Oh I'm sorry. That was tactless – "

"What?", Hermione startled, frowning at her. "Um – no – not – no. It – tactless? Why?"

"Never mind.", Burbage said and put down her glasses. "So? What can I – ?"

"I – just wondered – ", she still pondered, "Has he said _something_ about where he went for Christmas?"

"No,", the woman got slightly curious and emphasised that by straightening her back. "Should he?"

"I mean, you're – you're friends – hasn't he – "

"We haven't seen each other since the beginning of the holidays, actually. I have been off, as I said. And when I came back, he wasn't here."

"Oh."

"Is there any specific reason you would like to know that for?"

"I – just – I only wondered whether he had – "

"Look, I can understand that you care for him, but Severus isn't the kind of person to have a delightful Christmas. He is not going out anywhere – or does sit by a Christmas tree, exchanging presents – he's – just not the type for such and as far as I can remember, there hasn't been any really pleasant Christmas in his life. So why should it have been different this time? He's used to it. He doesn't really care anymore."

Partly, Hermione wished that Burbage was right, but the other side of her hoped that she was terribly mistaken in her friend. Such a person could never be happy in her opinion and she – desperately wanted him to be happy, just somehow. Gazing through the room, she noticed that the hyacinth was in an absolutely miserable state.

"Is there something else you'd like to ask me?", she followed Hermione's stare.

"No.", Hermione turned on the spot. "Goodnight, Professor."

~~#~~

Wondering when the actual point had been at which she had become so different, so – revolutionary, she stormed out of the Great Hall, not bothering Ron's muttering. If she was honest, she found it rather flattering that it made him mad how she always knew a way and he didn't. But of course the reason was simple: because she didn't shut her eyes due to an opinion she had built for herself. She let them open just a wee bit for the possibility of a hint that might convince her of the opposite, even though she didn't show anyone. Therefore they could think what they wanted, she wouldn't run to the Owlery for that letter she needed to send. She did hurry up the marble staircase, but stopped at the first landing. Hoping for the Heavens to be in her favour, she climbed over the banister and jumped.

"Aresto Momentum.", she whispered, fearing already that it wouldn't be enough.

But she stopped a few hands above the floor and landed indeed quite gently, right next to the spiral staircase to the Dungeons, out of sight from anyone in the Great Hall. Cheering inside with utter self-love, she took those stairs running as well. Hitting two birds with a single stone would be the best she could achieve, she thought, and slid to halt at a certain door. Praying to the very same Heavens from before that the reason why he hadn't turned up for breakfast was because he had hidden in there for not being confronted with people catching the news of the breakout, she knocked a quick four times and waited.

Clicking. A pale face appeared in the frame, almost squeezed between it and the edge of the door. She hated when he acted as though he was naked behind that wood. But before she could speak, something in his dangling right hand caught her attention: it was a bundle of actual mice and a red and silver Venetian mask.

"Presents.", he lifted them as a morning greet. "From Igor the Great Lunatic."

"Oh."

"I shall send his greetings from – Ve _mice_ to you as well, Miss Granger."

"A mask?", she giggled. "If you should want to wear a different one on occasions?", his expression couldn't have been less bemused.

"I have no idea when I ran into anything so hard my shields broke, but yes, that was exactly his note."

"Really?", Hermione laughed.

"Yes, _really_. And keep your voice down. I am expecting an unwanted guest."

"Because you haven't had breakfast in the hall? She honestly can't force every single person to attend all meals, can she?"

"Oh, I slowly begin to believe that she can."

"Then kill her and let it look like an accident – ", Hermione was shocked by her own words.

"If that was wise, I would have done so months ago, Miss Granger. I do not need more enemies than I already have; half of them not understanding they shouldn't see me as one and the other half unaware that they are. That is enough trouble for an entire government, let alone, a single man."

"Alright, then not. But speaking of which, how does he – ", she pointed her wand along the corridor she had come through and mumbled, " _Homenum Revelio_ – ", nothing happened, "Send you letters?", nevertheless, she carried on with her voice lowered.

"Give me a moment, please.", he immediately understood, stepped out of the office pulling his pouch with his free hand, in which he stored the things he held in the other and locked the door magically when the pouch was safe again. "Hold on tight."

Hermione didn't need telling twice. She downright flung her arms around his neck. Next second they were already rushing through the corridor they had taken weeks ago on his broom, empty once more. But this time he brought her up to the West Tower, landing in one of the upper windows of the Owlery to check whether they were alone, before he would finally drop her gently in the middle of the tower where he conjured a table and chair for her. There was no need for her to wonder how he could have possibly figured her actual intention. While she wrote her letter, wrapped in his cloak, he patrolled. Hermione had nearly finished it when a cat hopped in. Snape was quicker than a fly to pick her up and turn his back on Hermione so the cat couldn't spot the girl.

"Good morning, dear Lady.", he mumbled to her. "Aren't you cold up here? Tell your Daddy that I took under Bathsheda's shifts this week since she has a lot of work to do. Can you do that for me?"

The owls made too much noise for Hermione to hear Mrs Norris purr, but he put her down and she was gone without meaning to look into the tower at all. It was then that he downright exploded with a sneeze.

"Bless you.", Hermione said languidly, having expected it.

"Thanks.", he coughed and rubbed his nose.

Hermione wrote the last words and scanned the letter for any mistakes. Done, she gave him a nod. He drew his wand and sent a small, slightly greenish, blue light bulb outside.

"I didn't know that Professor Babbling does watches?"

"All teachers do, taking biweekly turns in groups. I am the only one who has a constant duty. And Sybill of course, who doesn't do shifts at all. We just cannot expect her to put up with it."

"Naturally. Was that some sort of tracking spell?"

"It was. It becomes invisible once the caster cannot see it anymore and flies straight through the recipient, telling them where to go."

"And who is the recipient?", the question was answered by the screech of a falcon that sailed through one of the lower windows and settled down on his lightly stretched out left arm.

"Whom is the letter for?"

"Rita Skeeter."

"Roll it and put it into the sack at Bernard's leg."

He walked the bird over to her and Hermione did as ordered, glad that he didn't ask for her intentions. It smoothly disappeared inside and she pulled the strings again, making the knot into them that had been there before, careful however, when she saw that the falcon only had that one leg, and had lost its right eye too by quite likely the claw of another raptor, which had caused a wonky scar across the empty little socket. Snape cast another spell, this time more blue. It actually floated into the falcons' chest and he threw the bird up a little to allow it a better takeoff. Both watched it fly out and vanish from view.

"It's called Bernard?"

"Yes."

"Interesting name for a – ", he took back his cloak and put it on. "Falcon.", she added with a shivering sigh and raised. "I know I mustn't be late for class, but – "

"Exactly, you mustn't be late for class."

"One question, please."

"Would you put your arms around me so I can fly you to your – "

"I meant, from me, not from you."

"I know.", he didn't turn to fog yet when she held to his shoulders.

"Was that what he kept you busy with? Arranging the breakout?"

"No. But levelling the paths for the aftermath. How does flying feel to you?"

"Do you mean the broom or about now, Sir?"

"Both."

"Brooms are horror, as I said. But you're an amazing flier, I think.", she could have sworn to see some colour appear on his sallow cheeks. "That probably belittled it. And otherwise, it is – um – how shall I explain – refreshing?", now the colour was there, vaguely, but it was definitely there.

"It is January, Miss Granger."

"No, really."

"Yes, really."

"No!", she laughed brightly.

"Believe me when I say, the day is the ninth of January. I should know."

"No, I mean,"

"It is."

"Sir!", Hermione chuckled into his chest, her laughs flattening at the feeling of his arms around her back, covering her with his warming cloak. "That way of flying does feel refreshing.", she was bright red when she looked up at him again. "And it's got nothing to do with the month or season or any weather at all. _Really_."

~~#~~

Time. Peculiar thing. Three months were nothing, even less than the two after her accident had been. And those Educational Decrees were unnerving. Especially numbers twenty-six and -eight. Whenever she had knocked at his door, it had remained unanswered. Staying behind in class had only resulted in being told off or a single annoyed glance, sending her to leave with only the warning abbreviation `PP´ resounding in her head.

The fact that the March edition of the Quibbler had started something rolling she hadn't expected to be that big but even more, quite positive and amusingly profound, was no remedy, as the final results had been the beginning of terror. It had actually led to another of those terrible visions of Harry, and when ignoring Snape's most recent try to throw her out of the classroom had ended in her hissing an extremely exact quote of Harry's portrayals into their teacher's face, he had looked appalled, but nevertheless thrown her out, sparing her the favour of a comment on it. She got his comment anyway, from Harry, who had wailed about the following Occlumency lesson.

Potions had turned into bearing ignorance from his side then. Snape didn't even look at her anymore. She had become thin air to him. Whatever this new game of his was, she was fed up, she was tired and she wanted to slam the fact into his pallid face along with a full boiling cauldron. But of course she remained as silent in those periods so nobody would conceive suspicion. Eventually it had been Ron who had confronted her with it and she had fed him with the part-lie that she couldn't accept how he treated Harry, but was afraid he would launch himself at her with full wrath. After all Harry had managed to break into his memory. That had given her the satisfaction that Snape had been wrong. Harry _was_ bad at Occlumency, but not nearly as sucking at the whole matter as he had described.

Now, sitting on the forest ground and staring up at the trees was a wonderful exchange to the fumy, dusty tower chamber. Firenze was much easier to listen to, mostly because he had a talent with words and was a lot more objective towards the art of fortune telling. Though she felt petty for Trelawney, she liked his theory of connections in the universe much better. It made a lot of sense when she compared it with the knowledge she had gotten from the night they had used the Time-Turner to save Sirius and Buckbeak.

Firenze said that all information was there, just waiting to be sought in. So far, it fit to Trelawney's `open your eyes´-thing. But he said that when people looked at the ways things happened in the past, they could analyse and come to conclusions, which acts could lead to which things, much like a child remembering that fire hurts when once having been burnt, and that the rest was the interesting part, the things that couldn't be predicted with any method. The exceptions that prove the rule..that as much as we knew about someone, we could never say it was the truth..never, no matter how often the alarm clock on her bedside table rang..what?

Hermione sat straight in her bed. Harry and Ron had told her so thoroughly about Firenze's lessons that she had already dreamt of attending them as one of all the other students who hadn't fled from Trelawney's class two school years previously.

She had laid down in the one free hour after lunch, too tired for doing anything. _That war – or whatever it is – is changing too many people in ways I don't really fancy. Even you._ Ginny had been right. There was something going on out there, like a monster crawling around the bed at nights. Perceptible, but not visible. Shadowy claws reaching out..

..crawling up the spine, drilling a hole into the head and eating up all positive thoughts. Silently gliding back down, stopping between the shoulder blades and thrusting a rusty knife into the heart – turning – turning – turning it around, until no blood was left to be spilled. It felt exactly like that and the soft April wind around the tower was powerless against those claws. One could – only one could – but – gone – long ago – there until the end of it all – though still – eternally out of reach.

Leaning over the parapet, the left hand clinging to it, a thin silver chain hanging from the fist the other formed, lying on the cold metal bar. The chain swaying in the wind. Careful not to drop it, he slightly opened his fingers. A shaking hand approaching the locket, a click. A smile so warm, always there, never changing, never leaving – and – still – and forever more – a memory alone. A single tear – unable to endure, he closed the locket and put it back around his neck, hiding it safely beneath his robes, those, bulging as he turned and left the tower.

Walls. Endless walls of stone. Ancient. Never breaking. Like the smile. Seeming impossible to be crushed. Monsters lurking from behind the torches, from between the stones. Hidden in every crack. Dead eyes following. Not there, but still. Waiting to reach out, claws and knives sharpened. All the same. In every corridor. The next corner wouldn't change it. Turning left, ready to ignore them again. Though not ready for – a squeal.

Two hands on his chest, four eyes meeting in shock and surprise. He hadn't heard her come running, nor had she expected to meet anyone on her way to the Room of Requirement and neither of them could merely be guessing it would be the last time before Umbridge would find the DA in there.

"Sorry!", she moaned. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't – "

"No – "

"I'm really sorry, Sir. I don't know where I had my eyes – I – "

"I said – "

"Hope I didn't hurt y– "

"I'm still alive, am I not?", he murmured slack, only then she perceived the sadness in every line of his face.

"Sorry.", she aspirated.

"Stop apologising. It helps neither of us.", abashed, she finally stepped aside, staring after him as he walked on. "Just try to watch out. Times are not right for feeling too safe. The walls have ears and eyes.", frowning, she watched the black hair that reached his shoulders and the floor-length black cloak billow with every step. "I ought to know.", he added mumbling.

~~#~~

And there it was again. That thing – time. So long time ago it seemed, almost like centuries, when he had made that curl spring back up. Twitchy little toad, PP had been. But like a hydra, any time her integrity had been caused to totter, she had recomposed to a more scrupulous and malevolent monster which increasingly had become determined, at last sending her straight up to – her `own´ office. With Dumbledore she had reached a limit and weakened by that, she was vulnerable again, fallen to the level she had been on when Snape or McGonagall had offered her cough-drops. But she was recovering slowly, unfortunately.

Dizzy from the miraculous past days and hopes of a better Easter wandering around in her quite recovered brain, Hermione sat at the windowsill between two empty beds, her knees bent and leaned onto her hand, wanting to banish Umbridge from her head. An escapee soared past the window, making the glass lozenges glisten in bright orange and pink. Her roommates were still down in the common room, worshipping Fred and George.

She would try, she thought. That downfall must have cheered him up somehow. She would try tomorrow, and if she had to sit outside his office all day.

But as though her intention was written all over her face during that tomorrow's breakfast, their eyes met for the first time in three months. It gave her shudders, in many ways. Though the knowing expression on his face when he had unambiguously looked at her on purpose, eradicated all her plans in a span shorter than a blink.

~~#~~

The scratching on the flipchart was taking not only her own nerves to a boiling point. Her hands in her lap, she sat unusually straight, staring past McGonagall's oval spectacles. The woman glared back, some vein at her temple twitching. Umbridge gave a cough and McGonagall simply closed her eyes with annoyance.

"Are you not going to ask Miss Granger anything?"

"Oh certainly, I would."

"You – would?", Umbridge sang in a mock-worried high tone.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?", they reassumed eye contact.

"Fine.", Hermione said stiffly.

"Stressed? Because of the upcoming exams?"

"I have everything under control, Professor."

"Does it not get to your head? Don't you feel like it would – explode?", she immediately understood, anger now jumping into the pot to swim along with her nerves.

"And he said, he would not tell anyone.", Hermione huffed under her breath.

" _He_? Oh no, Miss Granger, if you are referring to the one who once had sat strangely similar to you here in front of me and his own Head of House with his arch enemy at those times, your are getting it completely wrong. It has been Madam Pomfrey who at last informed me, after half a year of pleading and a threat of poisoning her with an overdose of Veritaserum if she should not tell me what exactly had happened. Though she could not provide me details of the antecedents due to her own lack of knowledge about it; I must daresay I am disappointed that you have not come to me personally. I am your Head of House, Miss Granger. You ought to tell me if you had an accident that might result in long-term – "

"I said, I am fine, Madam.", she countered in the same consistent manner, inwardly relieved that he had kept his promise and guilty that she had accused him wrongly a few seconds too early.

"Very well, Miss Granger.", sighed McGonagall. "I am used to your determination and therefore I believe it might not be much of a problem to establish yourself in any position you are striving after. Have you had anything in mind?"

"Well, I've already been offered the opportunity to work as an intern at the Goblin Liaison Office, but due to education haven't yet been able to accommodate the demand."

" _Hem, hem._ "

"Yes?", McGonagall murmured.

"And who might have done so?"

"Mr Cresswell himself."

"And – _when_ – would he have – done so?"

"We met at St Mungo's last Christmas as he was there for visiting a friend and we had a spirited but professional conversation.", she gently threw the lie directly into Umbridge's scornful face.

"I will make sure to ascertain this.", Umbridge took down a note, but Hermione knew that Snape was rigorous enough to have made sure Cresswell was informed and capable of talking himself out of details.

"But anyway, I'm not sure whether I'd like to.", Hermione said honestly, looking back at McGonagall. "I'm aware that I of course have the qualification to work in an office dealing with Muggles, or even magical creatures,"

"So you are planning on a career in the Ministry?", McGonagall asked.

"Quite frankly, yes. That place needs some breath of new life, if I think about it.", by the intensity of Umbridge's scribbling she knew she had just upset her. "Other than that, I also considered becoming an Auror."

She thought, giving it a try to see their reactions, couldn't hurt. And indeed, Umbridge had stopped writing and McGonagall looked very much like Snape when she had hit him with that pillow. Her jaw had dropped slightly and her eyes began to widen dangerously in between her blinking.

"Are you sure that your physical condition – "

"Mr Moody has been in far worse conditions throughout his career and ever carried on."

"Certainly, yes.", the elderly woman swallowed. "A true word. Yes, I can even see how. You have proven to be quick and well learning, capable of spells most students at your age would find difficult, logical thinking and able to look past complicated constrictions and find the essence of information behind in short time. Your marks speak for themselves, you only would need to work a little harder in Potions. Professor Snape has rated you with an E, but he will not attend anyone to N.E.W.T. levels with anything lower than an O."

"I can see where this resides in."

"Can you, Miss Granger?"

"Oh yes. Eleven OWLs and nine NEWTs, all with an Outstanding.", Hermione smiled, rather proud to know something most people had dared to forget – or never heard before.

"So you are very well informed what kind of person he is?"

"Oh indeed, yes.", she smirked now, self-satisfied. "I suppose, I will just try to receive an Outstanding in all my OWLs as well and go for every NEWT class possible, fetching the same result and turn our whole society upside down without anyone's notice.", she had no idea how that had come to her mind, but as her stronger-than-ever revolutionary spirit hadn't faded since the beginning of the Easter holidays, it had left her lips with ease. "That last one was a joke, _Professor_.", she growled at Umbridge who had continued scribbling frantically. "I have no intentions of going to hell. I want a clean, honest job, even if I should chose to be an Auror. One doesn't necessarily need to kill, in order to hunt down and drive Death Eaters to insanity, do they?"

Hermione's satisfaction reached a climax when the languid frown and short flick of her eyes to a specific arm she gave Umbridge had blasted exactly the smack in the woman's face she had wished to achieve. There was no note taken upon it and McGonagall didn't fail to notice. With big interest, her eyes skipped between the two, but she decided to end the meeting before anything worse could happen.

"Good. Well then, Miss Granger, if that is all, you may leave. You as well, _Headmistress_. I have essays to correct and need my peace to do that _adequately_."

~~#~~

May had passed and the last week of it arrived almost so fast that she hadn't had too many moments of thinking about one matter. She had been busy with studying, revising and escaping the remains of the twins' products that carried on haunting Filch and Umbridge. Even though Peeves more concentrated on the pair of them with indirect help of the other staff members, his mood effected students likewise. So she had spent all time she had walked the corridors watching out for him. But as though he had owed somebody a favour, she had obviously been spared on purpose.

Even harder had the discovery of Hagrid's half brother shocked her, but now that the Gryffindor common room had transformed into the biggest party ever, she sat on that windowsill again, what she usually did when she was alone like now, and stared outside, playing with a woollen elf hat with glass beads, tormenting herself in thoughts that she couldn't sew. It was far too warm for wool already. Angry, she threw the hat sideways into the room, not caring where it fell. But when it did so without a sound from the beads hitting he floor, she startled from her thoughts. There was another reflection against the window, black and white in the dusk-lit room. She turned her head to the right. How by all forces of good and evil together –

Pallid fingers were holding the hat as though it was the most fragile thing in the world. His face was equally sallow, but the rest was entirely black, only the delicate silver clasps down his chest reflected the soft blue that came through the window; the sun had already set; and his hair and eyes shimmered slightly. He hadn't appeared for any meals that Saturday, she remembered, but he didn't seem at all in a miserable state. His hair was a little bouffant, telling her that he had washed it latest in the morning.

Holding the hat still in hands, he slowly glided towards her, sat down opposite to her and forced his legs up into the narrow space, bending them like she did. The tips of their shoes stood together. Hermione watched him study the green hat thoughtfully, trailing his fingers over the red beads. He was breathing calm and steady through his nose, his dark eyes on – his knees, as she noticed. She had been wrong.

Feeling guilty, she saw a shiny tear travel down his right cheek. He looked out of the window to hide it from her view. Hearing her own words in her head, she didn't dare to ask him how he could have passed the crowded common room and gotten to the fifth-year girls' dormitory without being seen. He had come for silence. And he eventually confirmed it by pulling his wand and shortly flicking it at the door in blind flight, making the lock click. When he tucked it back up his sleeve, the sounds from below already died down as if the party had dissolved. But she knew he had locked out any sound in addition. His right hand was back at the hat to assist the left.

The silence that fell over the room had something comforting, something peaceful to it and she couldn't help but feel grateful. It had been the first silence in months. Even before falling asleep, her thoughts hadn't granted her silence. So it was a bit odd at first, to hear nothing but her heart and their quiet breathing, but it felt good eventually. At least she knew now what Harry must have felt when trying to work Occlumency before falling asleep. The current quiet gave her time to examine the half of the left side of his face that wasn't veiled by the black hair. His hooked nose, cheeks that looked as though they had known a time of happiness, a time they had been pushed up high by his curly lips' smile, but that it had left the world so long ago those cheeks had forgotten what it was like. If it hadn't been for the solitude, he would have been an actually quite handsome man. At least to her. But even that gave him some charm, some mysterious aura, some reason to abandon everything just for comforting him.

Hermione reached out between her knees, hardly able to stretch her arm further past them. Still not looking at her but apparently seeing it in the corner of his eye, he let go of he hat with his left hand and searched for it. She bit her lower lip at his blinking when their fingers met. He must have felt the same tingling. Hesitantly, he laid his fingers into hers and they slowly enclosed, insecure like a child that learned to walk. Then finally, they stopped moving when resting in a semi-firm grip, Hermione's thumb on his little finger.

For a while they just sat in the narrow alcove, holding hands, watching the landscape outside getting swallowed by darkness. Some stars appeared on the clear sky, initiating the arrival of night. The silence taking over her mind and sweeping all remained unnecessary thoughts from it, Hermione started stroking her thumb over his knuckles. She didn't really look at him either, but his eyes closed and he lowered his chin to the level of his collarbone, his face still owned by a sad emptiness. Equally slow, she turned her head to look at him again, with the hint of a smile she didn't even notice. He opened his eyes, looking straight into hers as if he had known where to direct them. His head lightly raised as well. She was too off her senses to get hold of what had just happened.

Before he had returned to look outside, a soft smile had drifted into his entire face, so pure, so honest, but gone within seconds, flowing away into space by the sigh that escaped him along with the slow blinking.

Seemingly an hour had passed in mere hollow silence. He let go of her hand in the light of the risen moon and slid off the sill. Giving her a last look of gratefulness, he carefully placed the elf hat where he had sat, turned and flicked his wand at the door as he left, bringing back the question how he would cross that still noisy room again.

Though as to confuse her even more, Fay, Parvati and Lavender entered, chatting lively and obviously unaware that their much-hated Potions teacher had just passed them on the stairs.

~~#~~


	15. Chapter 14 - Truth is not always honest

– Chapter 14 –

 **Truth is not always honest**

Emptiness. Everything blank. _Think_ , he silently told himself, _THINK!_ Closing his eyes and panting heavily, he thought of a solution, just hoping she wouldn't torture him behind that door. Trapped. Captured. He had to check. If it really was a trap, he needed to act. Corridors sped from his sight as he rushed through the castle and outside at some arches, upwards. The window in the tower sprung open at once and he landed inside, yet unnoticed and without a noise. The stand was empty, as he had expected, but it did not matter. He approached it, pulled his wand and stirred an exclamation mark into the ashes. It transformed into a single red and golden feather which he picked up. Then he began writing on the back of his left hand. The feather imprinted no colour or marks, but he could see the writing. Done, he wiped it off with the feather, threw that into the air and it was gone in fire.

On the other end of Britain a flame erupted in mid air, making a Hippogriff startle up. The screech he gave, woke the man that had been tending him before he had dozed off somewhen. Quickly he caught the feather before it fell and at an instant, the message appeared on the back of his hand.

 _H had vision of you being hostage of YKW in DoM. Confirm wrong._

When he began writing over it, the message vanished and he could see his own otherwise invisible handwriting. He gently brushed the feather across and threw it up, leaning back against Buckbeak with a snort.

In the high office, securely behind the other barrier, the feather reappeared in fire and as he caught it, the letters emerged on his hand.

 _Lame work, Snivvy. I'm in HQ._

A rather relieved sigh left him and he erased the note by crumpling the feather. Since it was gone once and for all, he; his wand still in hand; drew a nice amount of exclamation marks into the ashes, each becoming another Phoenix feather. He slipped them into the pocket of his robe, just to be on the safe side. There was this knot in his throat telling him that he would be needing them and as he had run out of stock, the move had been badly necessary. Eyeing the ashes, he decided another saving wouldn't hurt. Ten more signs, ten more short feathers in his bulging pocket.

None of the portraits had woken up, neither by his entering, nor by the light of the flames. He knew to be silent, far too well. Like a cat but upright, he paced back to the window he had come through, staring out into twilight. It was dinnertime, but even though he was hungry, he knew he wasn't to join them. He wouldn't have been able to eat anyway. That feeling he had, told him that however delicious that food would be, there was no way he could force it down his own throat. He felt some fear, but no pain. It was a bit too quiet. Something had happened.

The window closed noiselessly when he had passed its frame and made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. Inhaling the fresh air, he leaned himself against the parapet and let his eyes travel over the hills, his wand clutched tightly. Movement. Down on the grounds, at Hagrid's hut. Even from the distance he could make out the identity of the teenagers; following them, a pink stump. She had a nerve, he thought, raising his left eyebrow. But apparently it had worked. She was a convincing liar, that much he knew, and Umbridge a lousy Legilimens. When they vanished in the shelter of the Forbidden Forest, he knew that at least one of them wouldn't come back out. Hoping it would be Umbridge, he thought it better to stay and look out for any sign. Acromantulas, Centaurs, wild Werewolves and Grawp were a _little_ too many enemies for her. Let alone the small defenders of that shelter of Mother Nature.

Slowly the sun was getting closer to the horizon and he found himself bathed in beautiful colours. But he couldn't care less at the moment. Concentrated, he watched the trees for evidence of a fight. A group of youngsters caught his attention. Ahead, her angelic fair mane flying after her as she ran, Luna followed a bluish light bulb past Hagrid's hut, Neville and the gingers at her heels. Somewhere deeper in the forest, birds startled up in panic as the trees they had settled down in, swayed dangerously, right when the four entered the wood. The light was swallowed by the dark inside alike. A loud roar echoed from the depths, undoubtedly from the centre of the turmoil where the trees were shaken.

His fingers clutched his wand so tight now that there was almost no blood left circulating in them, ready to intervene at the slightest hint of need. Grawp moved deeper into the forest and he was beginning to worry so much he feared it would tear him apart before he could take off and fly for aid. In addition, his heart was hammering against his Adam's apple, making him nearly unable to breathe thoroughly. The blood red sun touched the horizon in the very moment something black rose from the treetops: six winged creatures. His heart fell so heavily that he downright felt it slide past his stomach and land in his pelvis.

Bony Thestrals came flying up to the castle. He backed away into the shadows when they crossed the grounds. Accompanied by a gentle humming sound, they passed the barrier and flew over the Black Lake, southwards, just as he had begged they wouldn't. By the speed of the Thestrals he knew there wasn't too much time to go. If he was there, waiting, they wouldn't stand a chance and he himself could hardly help them openly. Not only years of devotion would have been in vain. Much more was at risk. Too much. So he waited for the group to be gone, transformed to black fog and left the shields of Hogwarts, Disapparating immediately.

The soft breeze left behind, a dead noiselessness thudded at his ears as he Apparated on the topmost step of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The sounds of London appeared so distant to him he already expected to see the surface of a sea or lake when he looked up into the darkening sky while he simply pointed his wand at the lock. It clicked and he stepped in quietly, closing the door behind. That moment, Tonks came downstairs from the bathroom, jumping lively into the very corridor and startled with a high pitched shriek when she spotted him. Hardly surprising, the curtains blew open and Mrs Black screamed her protest at the top of her long rotten lungs.

" _Will you never learn to listen you foolish pack of Blood-Traitors!_ ", three floors up, a door slammed open and angry stomping made its way to the basement. " _Leave this place or I shall unleash my full wrath on you, muddy scourings!_ ", huffing, Severus marched towards her, skilfully flipped his wand so it pointed backwards, lazily raised his arm and stabbed the black stick into her painted eye she had meant to hide behind the already singed spot. " _AAAAARGH!_ ", Sirius almost crashed into the opposite corridor wall when he came to halt, a little dumbfounded, his tousled dark hair falling into his face. " _You will pay for this!_ ", the painting of his mother screamed, losing audible volume as she ran through the house. " _One day you will terribly pay for this, you treasonous Half-Blood!_ ", her mutters and cries died down when she reached a room in the attic.

"Wotcha!", Tonks chuckled. "Nice one, you did there. Didn't know she's vulnerable."

"Thank you. Did not bother spreading the news, did we?", he turned to Sirius who groaned.

"Did not believe me, _did we_?", he countered when a _clonk_ swell as it resounded numerous times from downstairs.

"Good old Severus, eh?", growled Alastor. "What brings you here?"

"Bad news. Very bad news, Alastor. Who else is here?"

"We're just having supper, Remus and Kingsley are still in the kitchen.", Tonks moaned, her hair not being the only part of her body that was bright red now.

"Better than nothing.", Severus smirked desperate and stormed past Alastor. "Follow me."

"How often – ", Remus groaned, swallowing a piece of meat, "Do we have to tell you that you shall keep quiet when you walk through that corr- oh – ", his frustration became surprise the second he looked up from his plate. "What the – ?"

With gaping mouth, he watched the unequal four taking in their seats, Severus helping himself to an empty chair at Tonks' right and eyeing her potato gratin. His stomach gave him away by a distinct rumble and Tonks interpreted it right. With a smile, she pushed her plate and fork over to him, receiving a mournful stare from him and a snort from Sirius.

"It's okay.", she said to Severus. "I'm filled like a pigling."

"Er – "

"Ab's sour cream.", meant Remus blushing instantly and neither he nor Sirius, who dazedly stared at his friend, missed that fact. "Er – goats – his – goats' – "

"Thank you. I hardly believe anyone in their right mind would use – ah – _his_ – for cooking.", he sighed nevertheless and started eating.

" _Bad news_ , as if. Has Umbridge kicked you out before you could steal something from the kitchen?", the looks Sirius was presented with upon that considered revenge for supposedly making Remus blush, or merely talking, were nothing short of loathing, from everyone. "But what's the use anyway? As thin as you are, I'm certain you're too anorexic to k–"

"Harry believes his vision."

That sentence had had a greater impact on him than he had probably wished it would have had if he had known it to come. While the others pricked up their ears, Sirius' mouth slid open, all his grumpiness swept away. He had never looked so properly at the man that ate up Tonks' meal. Doing so, Severus explained every detail for the others. When he swallowed the last potato, he finished with a pleading gaze around. In moments of disturbing calm, the plight sank in and after some more exchanged looks, they all jumped up at once and headed for the door.

"Wait!", Severus stopped them spinning on their heels. "Someone has to call Albus and – "

"That'd be you then.", Sirius grunted.

"No. You do that. Stay here and wait for hiss arrival; tell him what I just told you."

"You wish! He's my _godson!_ Calling me a useless coward and then expecting me to stay here while he's risking his life for supposedly saving mine!"

"Exactly. That is what the Dark Lord expects."

"Oh – having planned it long-term, haven't you?", Sirius gritted his teeth, coming back slowly. "Known it all the time?"

"No, Sirius, listen.", Severus begged. "I know him. I know his way of thinking."

"Ah! A confession!", both ignored the glances from the others.

" _Listen_ _!_ ", the pots and pans above the table shook from the blast wave that had erupted from him. "Please! You must _stay_ here! You _have_ to! It is the only – ", Severus winced and squinted.

"Yes?"

"The only way.", he huffed, biting his lip with a miserable grimace. "Please don't be angry with me; if you want to survive this night, you have to stay. Harry sees you as his closest. If anything, they will try to kill you first to weaken him.", Sirius was taken aback, but the information didn't seem to be reaching him. "He just summoned us. Bellatrix answered as well. You know you don't stand a – "

"And how I stand a chance against that bitch!", Sirius was back at his rage.

"Sirius.", it was Remus who had addressed him softly.

"What!"

"He knows best how they think, you are well aware of that. For _once_ , try to listen to him, please, _I beg you_.", he did the three necessary steps towards him and pulled him into a brotherly embrace that was returned, somehow. "I'll take care of Harry, I _swear_.", Remus whispered to him and let go, patting on his head. "I _swear_ by my life. See you later.", Remus turned to leave the kitchen with the others; Severus did the same, but shortly laid his hand on Sirius' shoulder before he went.

"Forget that god, trust me. Forget that god, if you don't want him to have left once and for all.", he aspirated, his ebony eyes drilling into Sirius' grey ones for some seconds, then he hurried upstairs before Sirius could find more words.

Out on the topmost step in front of the door, he stood alone. The others had Disapparated already. A woman passed him, dragging her daughter. Hidden behind the Fidelius Charm, she didn't see him undress. She didn't see the additional house at all. Not even a minute later, he wore a grey suit over his white shirt and threw a black cloak onto his shoulders that wasn't his either. Before he stored the pouch beneath his shirt, he took out a small bottle and a phial and emptied the hair into the bottle, which he drank in one go to fit into the suit and shoes. He hadn't answered. No one would know. Silently, he meant to Disapparate as well. But when he remained at the staircase rather than landing in the Atrium, he understood that Voldemort had found one of the buttons to bolt the Ministry.

The employees for the night shift were probably suffering from the same blockade, wondering why they couldn't get in – or merely considering someone had decided being funny. There was just one way. He Apparated in front of a scarlet phone box, not sighted by the Muggles in the street, and entered it. In a quick move he dialled the code.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.", said the woman's voice.

"Dirk Cresswell. My business's none of your business.", he growled.

"Thank you, visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.", he impatiently grabbed the square coin that read _Dirk Cresswell, Black Op_. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search – "

"An' 'ow I am! Will ye lemme search fer 'em _now_ before tha Dark Lor' blows up tha whole place or do I 'ave ter blas' a buildin' 'igh 'ole inter tha groun'?"

Oh sweet rage. It was just as effective as ignorance. At least regarding him. The box sank momentarily, yet he tapped the glass impatiently before he was confronted with a completely empty hall as the box settled.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,"

"An' _'ow_ battlin's pleasan' sum'times, 'oney pie."

As the doors burst open, he stormed towards the golden Fountain of Magical Brethren, around it and headed for the lifts. Instead of taking one, he pointed his wand at a tile that could have been overseen. It was inserted wrongly, but melted with the wall at first sight. The tile burst when he flicked the wand and he hammered his free fist at a big red button in the wall. It should have given a short whistle, indicating that far away in specific houses and flats all over Britain, a howling alarm would shrill. Though there came no sound, not even on the third punch or the try of a gentle push. Knowing what it meant, he let out a frustrated groan, hammered another button and jumped into the lift that appeared next to him. It sped into the underground, rattling and clacking. The announcement that he had reached the Department of Mysteries resounded and as the grills clattered aside, he already flung himself out at full speed, down the corridor he knew from Harry's visions.

The black door sprung open without his touch and he ran straight forward through another that cleared his way before it could close and make the room turn. Ignoring the bluish glowing cloudy mist around him billowing and swirling as he cut through it, he had only one aim: the door at the very end of the dreary room with the ceiling that petered out in black nothingness, to the left, driven by a voice that echoed in his head. _Our little secret. No one needs to know,_ she had said. His hand reached out for the handle as that door didn't open automatically. The second before he pushed it with his full weight against it, another voice raised in his mind. _Teacher? Still? Ruddy! Goo' job, eh? Gotta be prou' then, don' I? Risk free. Ligh' work. Well-pai'._ A horrible flame of pain exploded in his heart when the door gave in.

Thundering noises and calls literally thrashed his ears. Down in the pit, around the veiled arc, a fight was at full force. A Killing Curse missed him by an inch. The one he shot back, zoomed past its target as well as the caster was stunned in the moment. Flashes blinded his eyes that searched desperately from his higher position while he shot the one and other stunner down now so as to not kill the wrong ones. White long hair in the middle reflected the lights and he saw the old man spinning. A scream that impaled him as though someone had drilled burning iron spears right through his soul.

"SIRIUS!", Harry cried somewhere in the mayhem.

Where was he? The lights were too bright and he had to duck away too often. His shield was weak and collapsed. A woman laughed down everything, high pitched and ominous as he tried to run down the high stairs, hexes and curses all missing those they were meant for. He was out of training, beside himself and had to pay the full bill. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had gathered up a group of Death Eaters, binding them with and Anti-Disapparition Jinx, that much he could tell from their struggling.

"I'LL KILL HER!", was all he could hear from Harry's further yelling.

"Harry!", completely exhausted, Remus moaned after him, but without success.

Finally he saw him, hurtling upstairs on the other side of the room, out through a door. Another Stunning Spell hit Lucius Malfoy hard in the chest as he tried to aim for the boy and the blond was collected by Dumbledore as a last. But he didn't bother the room anymore. In this case not out of practice, the long legs, even though they weren't those he was used to, quickly brought him upstairs and after the young one. Regretting his speed, he slid across a slimy, slippery substance on the floor between motionless brains and nearly toppled over. Due to that, the door on the other side fell shut before he could arrive at it. Knowing what it meant, he let out a groan of frustration.

"Sir?"

A girl whimpered at a desk, but he was too drained to turn and instead just stemmed his hands onto his thighs, bending over with troubles of breathing thoroughly. The fact that he inhaled into slightly differently shaped lungs did its bit to it. Now that he rested, his sides began to ache and his head was playing merry-go-round for a good while, his own fury mingled with someone else's. So he just noticed Dumbledore sliding by and shouting an instruction at him before he seemingly pointless disappeared into the round room.

"Help them, Dirk! I need to find Harry!"

Still disguised, Severus just waved him off, having lost all capability of proper thinking somewhere in the glowing mist. Only slowly, he could rise and his head fell into his neck, not stopping to pant – his own lungs out of Dirk's. The pain in his heart was so terrible he wanted to die straight away just to make it stop, or to transfigure one of those brains into a knife to simply cut out the useless pump. The worst, he knew what it was. He knew it too well from the past. But he was not to die. Not from that. It wouldn't be any use.

Ginny Weasley moaned again, bringing him back to his senses, if only a bit. He turned around and saw her sitting against a singed desk that had been knocked over. A little farther away, her youngest brother was giggling heavily with his eyes awry. Her hair soaked by the deep green liquid on the floor, Luna Lovegood coughed from injuries that were not visible and – Hermione Granger was obviously unconscious.

Severus staggered over to the girls and knelt into the slime, first attending to the latter, feeling her pulse. He had been right. A check of her eyes gave him additional proof. Sighing out some of the heavy load that made his movement feeble, he crawled over to Luna with his wand between his teeth so he wouldn't dive it into the liquid. They counted now, no one else. They needed – he needed them for distraction. Through the door he had entered the room, an ashen Remus Lupin stumbled inside, Neville Longbottom behind him, half of his face swollen and bloodshot. Some of those bruises were still bleeding.

"Where – doesh id – hurd?", Dirk Cresswell's voice came out of his mouth past his wand as he addressed Luna.

"M-my backbone.", she moaned and he ran his fingers he had wiped dry at Dirk's clothes down the girl's spine, stopping when she whimpered the most.

"Dirk – ", Remus aspirated, padding over to the loose group, but the one who wasn't who he thought had cleaned his hands on the travelling cloak and gently tapped his wand at the girl's aching bones, muttering an incantation no one understood. "How come – you here? How'd you know?"

"Where is Sirius?", he helped Luna sit up, who sighed in relief that she could move again and self-tested her body on full function. "Harry cried for him – _where is he?_ ", Remus followed him as he carefully crawled over to Ginny who held her ankle, her tear-washed face staring straight at his.

"He – ", Remus sank to his knees as well; only Neville remained standing, seemingly having forgotten his wounds.

"Aaaargh!", the ankle had cracked back into place and Ginny was struggling for breath, more tears running from her eyes.

"Yes?"

"He – he – ", the man stared directly at Ginny but in a manner it was hard to tell whether he actually saw her. "He – "

That moment, a clanking sound came from the still open door and looking irate to the top, Alastor approached the first desk he could reach, slamming his walking staff at it with all force he could bring up and growling like a mad lion before he dropped down to it, crying the tears that were still stuck at Remus' eyes. Tonks had stopped in the doorway, her elbow-length hair a miserable grey disaster, leaving only Kingsley in charge of the trapped Death Eaters.

"Fell through the Veil – ", Remus aspirated the detail that hadn't been necessary anymore.

"No – ", Ginny gargled, apparently having understood. "No!"

Neville was still as though he was in the wrong place, Hermione didn't stir yet and Ron was busy with giggling into space. But Luna had frozen now, her otherwise shiny eyes becoming hollow tunnels. Her mouth stood ajar like Severus', whose lips were trembling as he blinked, unsure what to look at. Then his lips curled and he pressed them shut to hold back a chuckle when his view blurred.

The awareness stabbed his insides, the final awareness that he hadn't been able to convince him, the awareness that he had – failed. Biting his crying down, his jawbones started aching in addition to his sides and his lungs rebelled as he was running out of air due to tears blocking his nose, even though the pools overflowed.

Beaten off the track and therefore incapable of noticing it, his shaking body slowly changed too soon and his own white fingers were suddenly the ones that clutched the black wand. The too short sleeves of the jacket pulled the white shirt with them when the arms grew, now baring the black rubber band at his right wrist. Veils of black hung to his cheeks, becoming sticky as tears searched their way down them. With his fists on his thighs and sitting on Cresswell's constricting shoes in the green liquid, he slightly rolled in. To his right, Remus gasped. So did Ginny and Tonks, all three having spotted the revelation.

This was it, he thought when the pain in his chest became unbearable and he pressed his free hand to it, digging his again slime-covered fingers into the clothes. But the feeling only lasted some seconds. Then there was nothing but emptiness. A certain something was still there, but the emptiness was soothing and he knew that it was over. The tension in his body wore off, though it didn't stop shaking.

He looked up at Remus who stared at him as though he was seeing a ghost. There was only one thing that felt right now, before he would at last lose ability to move. He crawled the few inches between them and pulled him into his arms. Finally, Remus' lids gave up the battle and heavy, loud tears left the Werewolf's eyes as his head sunk onto the other man's quivering shoulder.

~~#~~

Dust was infesting the once noble old house again. Cleaning it up was beyond abilities. In a painting, a small hole was gleaming. The high pitched scream had echoed through all floors. ` _Serves him well!_ ´ she had said, to the wrong person. Shining shoes travelled over the furry seeming stairs, no cloak wiping the dust away. It was too warm outside, but inside the walls, a dead cold crawled around. Pale fingers enclosed a tarnished brass handle, pushed it down. The door quietly creaked. On the other side, the emptiness was more present than in the rest of the building. Around the long table, the fire in the chimney just a minor soldier against the army of dread lingering above their heads, a group of people had gathered.

No time for fun. The joke shop in Diagon Alley was closed for today. The twins sat at either side of their parents. Next to Fred, the real Dirk Cresswell. He as well, had taken a day off, like three professional Aurors among the mourners. Kingsley was the only one in the whole room who hadn't shed a tear yet. Both sitting sideways to the table, her arm around Remus, Tonks' face was as glistening as his from the thick salty water that covered it. The sound of wood hitting the floor hard. The next thing he knew was that a firm arm was thrown around his neck, pulling him close. He shortly returned the gesture. Even from beneath the magical eye, heavy tears had ran.

"It's good you're here, boy.", the growling voice gargled quietly. "We need anyone who knows what it's like."

He gave a stiff nod and followed Alastor to the table where he grabbed a chair, placed it in front of Remus and sat down, leaning forward. Remus gazed up at him through the watery veils as two cold hands carefully held his right. Silent tears emerged from his own eyes when Remus raised his shaking voice a little.

"How can you – s-stand – that?"

"I can't.", he replied softly.

"S-still?"

"Still.", Remus broke into chuckling.

"How could he've been so – _stupid!_ "

"He wasn't stupid, Remus. He only followed his heart."

"But you t-told him – I t-told him – "

"It was foolish of any of us to expect him to stay. It was foolish of _me_ to expect him to remain here while I couldn't have."

"How'd you say that."

"I went, didn't I?"

"Did.", Remus whimpered. "Why – "

"Just for the reason I said."

"I don't want to stay here. Not in this house.", Remus considered after some seconds of silence.

"No one will blame you."

"I can try convince my parents,", suggested Tonks.

Muffled by the door he had closed, an angry voice of a man could be heard shouting upstairs. Loud clattering followed. The banging of a door. Stomping. The kitchen door crashed open and the fury in person rushed in, stopping just about a yard from the door, his long grey hair spinning as his head rushed around while the others tried to figure out what had happened. He groaned and kicked a stool in the corner, making them all jump.

"That bastard!", he spat.

"Watch your temper, Ab.", warned Alastor.

" _I don't care about anyone's temper! That irreverent tosser's turning the house upside down! I'd have him kicked out months ago and erased his memory_ _!_ ", Remus' hand was dropped, quick feet crossed the room and after a loud smack, the old man staggered.

"You call him irreverent? What are _you_?", the other hissed. "Crashing down here and yelling your fury at _us_ doesn't change it. There is a reason why Albus wants him in."

"Yeah. Sure.", Ab growled, gritting his teeth and rubbing his cheek at the unexpected strength. "Dear Albus always knows better. Every underground organisation needs a good thief, yeah? Only that our thief's stealing from _us_ , Severus! He's stealing from his _companions_!"

"What do you care, Aberforth. It's not your house.", he turned to go back to Remus. "The stuff's Harry's now. No need to care. You're not a relative."

"Tz. Sirius wasn't an actual relative either. Still he cared for the boy.", Severus ignored him. "Why shouldn't I, eh? And after all it's been you who's been taunting him all the way. Why suddenly so devoted?"

"Aberforth?", speaking calm, the second newcomer addressed him from the door. "What is going on here?", but Aberforth just spun, pushed him aside almost as forceful as he had done with the stool and left the house, not without banging the front door another time. "Severus?", that one turned as well and went for the fridge.

"Your ever so reliable, unfilial whoreson of a thief just raided the house again, Albus."

"Don't say – ", he sighed depleted, "What has he taken?"

"How should I know? Aberforth just came destroying the furniture; he didn't tell.", different sorts of vegetables, eggs, milk, flour, some mincemeat and a steak found their way to the dresser.

"What are you doing?", asked Molly.

"Mowing grass.", Severus snorted when he cut off some chives onto a cutting board.

"Oh funny.", she huffed and joined him. "Shall I help you?"

"No."

"Do you even know what you are doing?"

"I could go back to Hogwarts and ask the Houseelves to prepare something,"

"Don't worry Albus, I'm not willing to poison anyone here."

"But it would be easier – ", he hadn't even moved a lash at the knife that had missed his face by three inches and now stuck in the doorframe, quivering.

"I dUn' care wha's easier!", Severus had spun around; all pots and pans were swaying and rattling and the cupboards trembled dangerously, making the dishes in them clang and everyone but the two men was frozen in place and even time, it appeared. " _Lemme cook, righ'_?"

"If you must, I was merely offering my help."

"I dun' need 'elp! I never needed! 'Specially no' yers!", he cried and turned to cut some tomatoes with the knife that had soared back into his hand; passing the other man even closer; into a bowl he had summoned from a cupboard that had stopped trembling. "You may cook some rice, if you feel the need to.", he then said to Molly, quietly and calm.

~~#~~

"What are you waiting for, Mr Malfoy? Seize the day!", the boy didn't move.

"You heard her, Draco. And take a different direction than Potter, please. I do not wish to scrape you off a wall."

That message couldn't have been clearer. As though running for his life, Draco Malfoy hurried through the adjacent corridor of the Entrance Hall and around the first corner, out of sight.

"Scrape him off a wall?", Minerva frowned.

"I wouldn't send a fully armoured Giant near him, Minerva. If I think about it, he might even be able to tear the Dark Lord into hundreds of pieces with his bare hands in the condition he is in now. Maybe we should take advantage of it, whatever. How are you feeling?"

"Apparently better than you.", his former anger had actually unavoidably transformed into sadness.

"Me. Who cares."

"Oh, a lot more people than you might wish to believe. Don't mourn over points."

"P– points?", he chuckled in disbelief. "You actually think I – you dare to _say_ I could be mourning over – _points_? We have lost a warrior!", what had been left of her delight, was blown away brutally.

"Whom you tell. Albus came to me personally.", she sighed into space. "Poor Remus. And the boy – not imaginable – what about you?", her eyes were back on him when he turned to go.

"I need to check whether the potions I brewed for Miss Granger are showing progress. If you excuse me,"

Not willing to look at her, he hurried upstairs, but when out of sight, took the remaining distance flying. Before he reached the corner of the last corridor, he landed and walked on, eventually finding the doors of the Hospital Wing widely open and bright sunlight falling in through the rows of windows, casting a heavenly shine also into the atrium outside the hall which was Madam Pomfrey's office as well.

In the middle of the infirmary, Ron sat on one bed, Hermione on the opposite. Around them, were the rest of the students that had fought in the Ministry, except Harry of course.

"Hang on,", Ron aspirated as he walked directly towards Hermione, fetched a chair and sat down at her side.

"Severus – ", Madam Pomfrey frowned, having calmed down Umbridge who laid closer to the cold oven. "What are you – ?"

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?"

"Getting better,", she considered, "Yes. Much better. I think, I'll be able to – leave tomorrow – ", Hermione gargled at the sudden memory ringing in her mind, "Or so. Um – the scar – "

"Will remain forever."

"Oh – okay.", Hermione sighed. "Well, at least, we have something in common now, Sir.", he said nothing on it and Hermione only got herself some questioning looks. "Whipping cream is just – absolutely formative."

"I can see, your brain still as damaged.", he mumbled, making her curl her lips to suppress a laugh, but her broad, childish smile said it all.

"Same could be said for the toad."

"An overdose of authority, I assume."

"Oh yes. Getting Grawp-ed among Centaurs isn't what I imagine under the term `pleasurable´, Sir. She doesn't seem to struggle much currently though. You could pin her to the ceiling easily now, you know?"

All conscious eyes stared at Hermione. His chin however dropped to his chest when the teenagers started laughing, even though only one of them understood the full meaning. Annoyed that he had hair to cover it, she tried to see whether she could catch him grinning at his thighs, but he raised his head, presenting her with his famous, languidly raised eyebrow, no signs of actual cheer on his face and that wouldn't change with Hermione's following words, which she wasn't even sure why she decided to reveal it in front of so many people.

"I wasn't unconscious.", she though whispered it. "I was just blinded by the light and weak – and probably I thought I should shut up because you could be pissed off if I asked."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, I – "

"I could clearly hear every word,", murmured Snape, "But I believed, we already had that, hadn't we? Speaking for hours without giving any hint on what that all is about, is really no use, Miss Granger."

"I know.", Hermione squinted shortly. "I mean, yes, it's been two years, but – I – I just wondered – well – it makes no sense! You said you don't hate – er – and then – um but you did – do that – no stretcher, I mean – um – you just c– I mean, on your arms – that's – ", by his widening eyes she could tell the message had arrived by the right ones of his cerebral gyri. " _Why!_ I – ", his annoyed stare was back. "Don't under-"

"For the last time, Miss Granger, there are several matters in this wicked world you are not supposed to understand, ever, or at least yet. I am just not sure on which one to decide in the end."

"So you leave me dangling above an abyss of confusing uncertainty until you're sure what you want?"

"Quite like that."

"That's mean!"

"As far as I'm concerned, I'm not supposed to be accountable to you,"

"Whatever that was about,", Ron moaned, yet somewhat careful, "For once I agree with him."

"What?", Hermione gasped, having just caught it.

"But just because he hates Umbridge."

"Now that is very kind of you, Mr Weasley.", the look he gave him, made Ron shrink in his bed. "I really hope you take it into account next time you wish I was dead, although there used to be times I _would_ have agreed with you as well."

"Er – "

"Here you are!", the voice of a woman sang from the doors, making them all turn immediately. "Fancy a swim in the lake?", everyone gazed at her as if she was something very odd or some sort of creature that hadn't ever been sighted to that point.

"I – _beg your pardon?_ ", Snape aspirated for the second time within only two minutes.

"Why, yes, it's a bright, warm, shiny Sunday!", Burbage beamed like the sun outside and laughed at his expression. "Joking, Severus. Just joking! Someone should have taken a photo of that face of yours."

"I'll _give_ you a photo, Charity. Namely of a stour on the horizon, which would be you running from me after I just closely missed you with a Killing Curse!", he sang as well, but hollow and moaning; she and Hermione were the only ones to giggle, the latter receiving alarmed gazes from her friends.

"Save that for PP, you clod.", Burbage chuckled. "Gotta show you something. You'll totally freak out."

"Which would be?", Snape frowned and raised.

"You'll see.", she curled her lips with a naughty smirk.

"I won't be going anywhere.", her friend murmured.

"You just stood up,", the woman wiggled her eyebrows and stepped backwards until she turned into the corridor, out of sight, and only a finger appeared, beckoning him.

"I suppose, it's the hyacinth, Sir.", Hermione rolled the _Sunday Prophet_ up and down her legs, gaining more confused stares.

"I suppose so too!", he gave the still waving finger a hollow chuckle. "I _suppose_ , she just _smoked_ it!"

Hermione snorted another giggle when he shortly shook his head, paced from the infirmary and before he could turn as well, a hand quickly seized his wrist and pulled him into the corridor.

"Bloody hell!", Ron moaned, having seen it. "What was _that!_ "

"Oh, nothing.", Hermione grinned. "Professor Burbage just woke a born florist."

"Er – _what?_ "

"Forget it. Just forget it.", he could hear her sigh, and Ronald's protest fading away with the distance.

"Where are you bringing me?"

"You'll see,"

Though he couldn't see her face as she walked ahead, he knew her smile had gone with the change in the touch of her fingers she had now woven into his. Only paying attention to the sigh of the wind from the open arches, he let himself be dragged along, unconscious, his gaze falling into a nonexistent huge space right behind her bumping golden waves. Dancing with every step, he could vaguely perceive the sunlight shimmering in it, just as if he was a maggot, drawn by a wandering torch with flames swaying playfully.

He gasped, but no sound left him as she had stopped, and him with her flat hand on his chest, in blind flight. Somewhat returning to reality, he stared along her left arm, past her head that was turned from him, over her shoulder.

"There."

She had whispered softly, so quiet her voice could have been mistaken for the wind gliding by outside the thin pillars supporting the arches. Between a pair, the thick black thatch a usual mess, the boy smirked at something very small that moved before his face, in the air, obviously directed by the wand he gently held up.

"Now look at that.", Charity whispered again, as if she was stunned by the sight. "He's been doing that for an hour or so now,", he could think of various things to reply, but neither word appeared to be powerful enough to squeeze itself through the tiny gap between his lips. "Fascinating, isn't it? And the little laddie even seems to enjoy it.", indeed, the greyish brown animal didn't seem troubled, but even amused by the stream of air that kept it from falling and it rolled around like a young otter playing in a pond. "Come on,"

"Wha' – ", she had dug her fingers into his robe and pulled him away from the corner, straight towards the teenager who was still deeply in thoughts.

"It's about time you sort that out.", at last Harry's head spun, but he didn't lower his wand with the mouse some inches above.

"Eli,"

"I'll be at lunch."

"No,", he meant to protest and hurry after her, but she shot a simple jinx that made him jump backwards.

"And how I will. I still belong to that part of mankind that does need food for survival, unlike you.", she gnarled before she disappeared around the next corner. "You seem to have mastered the ability to feed from despair and self-pity. Enjoy that meal of yours, you bloody Dementor.", Harry only huffed on the scene, his face back outside at the landscape.

"Fine!", he shouted after her. "Go fetch up some big fat turkey, lucky you!", startled by his loss of temperament, he panicked at the black head. "You haven't heard that,", Harry huffed again.

"And people call me naïve.", the mouse began to twitch and squeal quietly. "Honestly, I don't care if you treat your colleagues like your students, _Sir_.", the boy sighed. "Or worse.", he added pouting.

"She knows I didn't mean that as I said it – ", and again it had just left him.

"Yeah. Just like Mum didn't care, now did she?", Harry grumbled, apparently oblivious to the animal's struggling.

"Don't speak of her as if you knew her."

"Oh damn, I forgot – you knew her _slightly_ longer than I did. Sorry I couldn't get her to step – "

"And you are right."

"What?", Harry jerked at the feeling of some fingers around his wrist and the mouse fell on his lap, where it rolled off and ran away – over his knees – and –

"Anger is no real solution. It brings only hurt."

"You – you killed it!"

"Released, more likely. It jumped voluntarily. Otherwise, _you_ , would have killed it."

"Er – "

"You honestly haven't noticed – ", without meaning to, his hand let go at the look Harry gave him from below and he pulled it back past the boy's chest, slackly up to his own, where it stayed as a loose fist, not touching the black fabric in his slight shock.

"Noticed what?"

"Don't mind me.", he blew a breath with his arm falling and, holding with his other hand on to the pillar at his left, his eyes drifted across the hills, blank.

"Well, if you beg for it, _Professor_ ,", snarled Harry, "Then I don't and let you know that you are the last person I'd want to go all philosophical on me now."

"Certainly. You have all the right to say that. Though it doesn't bring him back."

"Tz. What d'you know.", that anger made him angry as well, but he swallowed the urge of arguing. "You don't know anything. And don't act as if you cared for that mouse – or – or Sirius – or even me.", as though having sat on a chair in the middle of a room, Harry got up and swung himself around the thin pillar to their right, outwards, into the next alcove.

"Of course I don't know. I have never had a godfather,", that made the boy falter, just in time to stop him from repeating his lazy balancing act. "One less – ", he walked after him and climbed the wall in that next alcove as well, "Thing,", and leant with his back against the pillar Harry had used as a support, crossing his arms and legs leisurely, "To make me as vulnerable as you are."

"What do you want.", Harry spun, suddenly panting like a wild ox and his hands in fists, the right still clutching his wand from which a number of red and golden sparks emitted.

"Oh there are several things I'd want,", his look again drifted across the lands. "None of which you would either be able or be willing to provide me. I cannot even resent you for that. After all; and that is what I assume to be the words my _colleague,_ as you called her, wants me to say to you; it is my own fault."

"Did Dumbledore send you?", Severus' head jerked at the boy.

"Why should he – "

"How did he lure you into that rubbish, huh? What did he promise you, should you actually say that crap? Must have been something grand!"

"Albus Dumbledore is currently unavailable for dwelling in his so beloved world of vested interest, due to wallowing in an amusingly worse sort of self-pity as – ah – _Professor Burbage_ – hoped to taunt me with. What did he say to you – that he – cared for you too much?", and again, Severus studied the hills.

"Yeah. Something like that.", Harry sighed, his anger fading. "He cried."

"Did he?", his head unintentionally zoomed at the drained young face again.

"Yes."

"Congratulations!", a chuckle escaped him. "Seems, you finally broke that damn old fortress,"

"Doesn't bring back Sirius, now does it?", the next chuckle left both of them mutually.

"No.", he realised it was more pleasant to study the shadows the few clouds cast on the school grounds, and so did Harry.

"But yes, it's like you said. You can't know what it's like. You – you never – had a – and – ", Harry visibly fought a lake of tears damming up in his green eyes, "And he wasn't – look, I know I'm not to speak about it, but he changed. He wasn't the nutter anymore who supported anything that harmed you, Sir. Sure, he tried to offend you at any given opportunity,"

"Do not try to stand up for his faults.", he said softly. "When dead, no one can redeem themselves. It makes no sense harbouring grudges anymore when the opponent has left this world. They can return neither word nor act and the grudge will fall back heavy on the bearer. The dead that had not been meant to wander among the living, should be laid to rest. No matter how good or bad they were in life according to one's point of view. Being aware of their acts is one thing and learning from it as well, but developing hate, another. It will be projected on the innocent. And that, knowing you, should be vaguely against your philosophy, not?"

"My philosophy.", Harry aspirated. "What's that anyway. And you've been nagging about my – "

"A brighter than you might be willing to believe at the moment. Also I can see how you can not be able to believe that I will no longer stab your godfather's remains. You have fortunately seen not enough yet to understand. But you can trust me, if you would prefer to include yourself in that law of mine or not, I do not wish anyone to go through what I had. I am selfish enough to say that. Because, it is hard to understand and even harder to accept – every harm, especially the deaths we truthfully hope for in blind loathing, will haunt us for a lifetime. I won't tell you to hate or love me or stop you, should you now mean to drill your wand up any of my body's vents or not, whatever you feel like doing."

"I believe you'd said, Dumbledore didn't send you,"

"And that is he truth, whether you may believe it or not. Each and every one of us has to cope with the results of our acts in the end. If anything in this world is simple, then it is the law of cause and effect. A good example is that rather minuscule belief of yours you probably only expressed to make yourself feel less crumbling. It is, if not nearly as satisfactory as I, in the first place, may have believed the awareness to be like, but it is indeed proof that my opinion must have left its marks on our Headmaster's _brilliant_ , _impeccable_ mind."

"So you say, he just said those things to me because he heard you saying them long ago, or what?"

"No idea. It just gives that impression, doesn't it?", Harry merely shrugged upon that. "Cause and – and effect – ", Severus sighed, trying to fight the thoughts that meant to force themselves into his consciousness while looking at the boy, troubled again whether to keep doing so or to let it.

"Sure.", said Harry flaccidly.

"If you excuse me now,", some sanity; or insanity, whatever; must have won at least one battle, "The cause of not having eaten a single bit in two days has at last won over my stupidity with the effect of an aching stomach.", he gently hopped off the sill, but Harry stopped him from leaving.

"Send it my greetings, Professor."

"I beg your pardon?", he turned back to see the boy staggering inside as well and going in direction of the Hospital Wing, catching too late himself that he must have gained a new common phrase.

"The turkey."

"Oh that; I think I will send it to Azkaban with your best regards,", Severus frowned after him.

"My thoughts. When Umbridge arrives, it'll just be good enough to suit her taste. Damn it, are you a Legilimens or what, Sir?"

"Perhaps, I never bothered considering what may be the reason for images flashing up when I drill my eyes into others',"

~~#~~


	16. Chapter 15 - Mashup

– Chapter 15 –

 **Mashup**

Through eagerly chatting people, the group made their way up towards the podium to take in seats that would be close enough to the staff table. At least that was what Hermione intended. It was easier to make them all follow than she had thought. She just walked straight on, forcing them to keep up if they wished to sit with her. Reaching the seats in favour, Luna said goodbye for the moment and spun to the Ravenclaw table, her back on them as Hermione turned hers on the Hufflepuffs, Ron sitting down to her right. Ignorant, she checked the long table that faced the students.

Slowly the last teachers arrived. Even Professor Trelawney found her way to the right of a massive chair, which however remained empty. On its other side, McGonagall's eyes scanned the hall. Dumbledore had sat down as well, engaging her in a conversation. The two chairs, one between him and Professor Burbage, who wore the longer side of her hair in an elegant knot that she checked with her right hand on which a golden ring glistened, and between her and Madam Pomfrey were lacking company. But a person to fill one of them was already on his way, being the last that entered through the backdoor for now.

His big belly bumping, the new teacher flounced towards the gaps and already wanted to seat himself next to Dumbledore, though as if someone had spiked the chair with needles, he jumped up before he could touch it and rubbed his buttocks. The gasp that had escaped him, had drawn the attention of several students closest to the podium.

"I guess, that seat's reserved!", he lilted in surprise.

"Oh indeed, Horace, it is.", Dumbledore chuckled, watching him take the other.

"Well then,", with a sigh, he turned to Burbage. "Good evening, dear. Tell me, can I remember you?"

"I _hardly_ think,", she smirked and offered her hand, "Professor Slughorn. Or `Horace´, as it would be now, then? Charity Burbage."

"Ah of course!", beaming, he shook her hand. "Goes for both. Hufflepuff, if I'm not mistaken?"

"No, that's right."

"Good, good. And what brings you back here? What would you be teaching?", he spoke so loud it wasn't difficult for Hermione to catch every word.

"Muggle Studies."

"Ah! Interesting subject. Truly fascinating, yes. You see, dear Albus here,", he shortly brandished at him, "Managed to convince me to take on my old job again. Cunning man. Really cunning.", he didn't notice the mass of black that came running through the backdoor, but almost everyone else did; students were pointing up to make their classmates look. "And how he is.", Slughorn sang, when Dumbledore startled as Snape slid to halt at his left and bent to him, whispering into his ear. "Oho!", he finally noticed the change of light as well. "And that would be the one who cost me the best seat then?"

"Yes, that would be him.", Burbage smirked; Dumbledore nodded and Snape rushed back off, his long cloak and hair billowing up behind.

"Now what was that?"

"Peeves,", Dumbledore sighed to him, "Has started early."

"Still here, he is?"

"Alas, he is bound to the castle, as you should know.", there was a loud bang somewhere outside, making more heads turn for some moments.

"Ah of course I know, yes. Merlin's beard! Such a long time.", his eyes wandered across the students when McGonagall raised to receive the first-years in the Entrance Hall, still limping a bit around the table and through the rows. "A lot has chanced, but nothing at all, is it?"

"Yes, I would dare saying so as well, Horace. And it seems, he indeed succeeded."

"Peeves can be beaten? That would be news to me! Oh well, I remember a student who could do that,"

"We all remember that student, believe me as I say.", Dumbledore sighed again.

"Whom are we talking about?", Burbage asked in between, a knowing shimmer in her eyes.

"Former student of mine,", Slughorn spoke to her once more, "Rather unobtrusive. Oh when I say so, I must correct myself. People _did_ notice him, when he hexed his jealous classmates. Clever mind, but wasted his talent far too early. Lost cases all over.", the smile had disappeared from his face and he dwelled in memories. "He fell for the Dark Arts already in his schooldays. I daresay myself, I did see it coming. But I had hope, he would find a lighter way, with this brilliant girl at his side. Goodness, I remember – he had given you tutoring, hadn't he? Oh dear, oh dear. What a shame. Such a waste, yes. Not the tutoring, of course, I believe, don't get me wrong!"

"Can you get something out of that blabbering?", Ron chuckled.

"Oh yes.", Hermione meant. "A lot, actually."

"Er – I meant that – ironic – ", the subject of the conversation was back, swiftly swinging himself into his chair.

"You got him, I take it?", Dumbledore asked, but Snape just nodded flatly, his greasy hair hanging into his face and he reached for a glass of water.

"Ah, the ghost buster!", Slughorn boasted, back at amusement. "Stunning. I never thought, anyone would be able to tame him ever since I left this school. And then I take on my old post again and find orders restored.", Snape drained his glass, visibly careful that his face was not spotted by him. "May I ask for a name, dear colleague?", Slughorn offered his hand like before, forcing Burbage to squeeze to the backrest of her chair.

"I hardly reckon that would be necessary.", Snape turned and presented him his most unimpressed frown ever.

"Merlin's beard!", aspirated Slughorn, his eyes popping out, the cheer frozen instantly and the arm crashing on Burbage's empty plate accompanied by loud clattering and her disgust, as well as many more heads turning towards them. "Severus! I should have known! Who else would – but of course! Though _you_ , _here_? _Teaching_? That is truly a positive surprise!"

"Apparently you have been sleeping a lot during the past sixteen years."

"He doesn't seem to like him much, does he?", Ginny noted.

"It's Snape, Gin. What d'you expect?", murmured Ron.

"And for how long have you been teaching here, and what?", Slughorn continued.

" _Fif_ teen years, Potions."

"Blimey. Yes – but – but naturally you – would – ", Dumbledore chimed his glass, telling from his look, probably for the mere relief of interrupting Slughorn and the hall fell silent as the gilded doors opened another time to let in the first-years, led by McGonagall. "Ah! How I missed that.", Slughorn added whispering, straightened and rubbed his hands, gaining himself a most despising glance from both Snape and Burbage, the latter then pleading to her right, which resulted in a quick flick of a black wand; Hermione guessed he had sterilised her plate.

~~#~~

Snoring filled her ears. Lavender did her well-known solo. But by the breathing of the others she could tell that she was the only one awake, and that even though she could usually sleep well to Ron's roaring quaking The Burrow. The thought hammered in her mind. It had been the first time she had seen him since last term. Obviously Peeves and Slughorn had distracted him so much that he hadn't even needed to hide it. Though for what she knew about him and their friendship, it worried her that he hadn't been crying all feast long or been looking totally depressed. But yes, she knew that much that she should understand he wouldn't cry in public, no matter how terrible the loss was.

Careful not to make any noise, she slid down into her slippers, grabbed her cloak and wand, pinned her Prefect's badge to her pyjama top and snuck out of the dark dormitory, into the drab common room, past an annoyed Fat Lady and down via some secret passages until she reached a door she hadn't seen in months either, completely uncaught by the Aurors that were positioned in the Entrance Hall. What an immense lack in those now strengthened security measures, she thought. But how to complain when it was to her profit? She shortly brushed her fingers through her hair to look at least a little bit reasonable and did her four-time-knocking, waiting as usual.

The door opened just enough he could stand in the frame but blocking the view inside. Above his black trousers he wore a clean white shirt with long sleeves. Those were rolled up to his elbows and he had bound his hair back into a tight ponytail. Due to their greasiness, the shorter strands at his forehead didn't fall out. Hermione jumped; he merely squinted at the sound of breaking glass and some sort of liquid splattering the floor.

"Gonadh.", he muttered and stared out over her head, at the wall.

"What – ", Hermione tried to peek past him, but failed.

"Tha'll be tha Runespoor Eggs.", Snape sighed.

"Er – "

"An' I dimbo 'ad 'em sorted be size – ", he grunted, crossed his arms and legs and leant himself to the frame.

"What are you doing in there, Sir?", she murmured, still trying to get a glimpse.

"Revision."

"Re-revision?", the girl frowned.

"I already had my things moved up to the other office over summer when – _Professor Slughorn_ – found it funny to tell me in the breath he wished me a good night that he was so glad Albus had granted him `Galatea Merrythought's former office´. Yet I am surprised that Albus gave up his secret storage room. I never thought that man was so eager to please his ego. So, naturally, I am moving back in."

"Why?"

" _Why_ , Miss Granger?", he moaned. "Because I wasted my entire stock of incense trying to get that trollop's smell out of the other, that's why!"

"Ouch."

"Oh yes, _ouch_! But anyway, I like this place better. Much less distraction and unless the Squid manages to break these highly secured windows, I have my peace in here. The jars are growing feet on their own already anyway. I really don't like the thought of receiving Nifflers through my windows. Now, why are you here, Miss Granger?"

"I walked into this, didn't I? Say I walked into this."

"You walked into this.", he huffed. "Well? What did you walk into?"

"An E! An _E_ , Sir!", Hermione threw a tantrum. "She sat in there when Professor McGonagall asked me for my career plans and I said I would go for an O in all my OWLs and NEWTs and then turn the Ministry upside down.", she didn't fail to notice that his face was frozen for a moment. "I mean, I told her I was joking, but – "

"Though watching the exams, a Headmaster, and especially, the teachers, have not the slightest influence on the results, Miss Granger.", Snape had composed himself. "This responsibility lies solely with the Committee."

"Still.", moaned Hermione.

"Do you fear, I would not take you into my NEWT class? Well, then you might wish to wait for your timetable tomorrow morning, where you will clearly see that you will still be allowed to take Defence Against the Dark Arts. Other than with Potion Making, which can end fatally when under-qualified people deal with the subject, I see no sense in throwing out those who received only an E last year. We both know that it didn't need much ungifted-ness to fail with the lack of a year practice. You do not want to know the results of those who weren't in the DA. Only few got a better results than an A and those were rare as well. But it would be no good for those with such horrible marks to continue; they would be too ashamed of themselves. The fifth is the most important in development of advanced skills. Passing it without practical experience, literally dooms one to fail at magical ability in general."

"I can totally see that.", Hermione considered.

"So, if there isn't anything else you need to complain about,"

"Not complaining, actually.", she curled her lips, unsure how to start. "I – um – please don't be mad at me, Sir, but – um – I'm – I'm sorry."

"What for.", he sighed.

"Your friend."

"Friend?"

"Professor Karkaroff. Remus told us what happened."

The silence that emerged between them made Hermione feel smaller than she ever had. His lips stood open and his eyes were piercing hers with a visibly uncomfortable, disbelieving stare.

"What?", Snape aspirated.

"Um – ", something dawned on Hermione and she felt an immediate downpour of misery hitting her. "He's been found in a shack with the Dark Mark above. Didn't – didn't you know?"

"When – "

"A month ago already.", it shocked her to see the powerless panic fall off him with utter relief.

"Oh that.", he smirked. "I already thought the world was better informed. I got a letter from him yesterday."

"Er – _what?_ "

"Igor, Miss Granger, is a highly talented wizard, despite his occasional cowardice. He has died probably a few dozen deaths within a year. Unless you hear the message from me, you shouldn't rely much on the source."

"So he's alive?"

"Yes, he is alive.", Snape nodded with a scarce smile.

"Okay.", she replied similarly, having to chuckle a little. "Then – um, happy sorting, Professor. And goodnight."

"A pleasant night to you as well, Miss Granger. Don't let yourself be taken down by marks. I survived my Ps on all Divination work as well before I dropped it so it wouldn't mash up my OWLs."

" _You_. Had a _P_.", Hermione giggled.

"Oh yes. Multiple ones, as I said. Then I spent an entire first lesson after Christmas arguing with our Muggle Studies teacher about why I even wanted to take his class when I am so averse to them. Though it was only natural that he couldn't understand my personal issues while I constantly talked myself around the matter."

"And he let you take the class?"

"Of course! He found my arguments rather interesting after the detention Lily and I had landed ourselves in."

"De- _detention_?"

"I for reluctance of stopping to yell at a teacher and Lily for punching me in the face."

There was that striking silence again, though naturally, slightly different. Bearing his bored expression was hard when the awareness sank in. Hermione struggled to fight a fit of laughter.

"You have my full permission to laugh your lungs out, Miss Granger."

"I'm fine, Sir.", she gasped for breath, still trying to suppress the giggle. "I won't laugh.", finally she could take a thorough breath.

"Then not."

"Alright. Um – goodnight then,", Hermione smiled and turned to go.

"Good night, Miss Granger.", before he could close the door, she raised her voice once more.

"And congratulations – on – your promotion – "

A stiff nod into the corridor and he locked the door behind. Grinning broadly, she made her way back up into the Entrance Hall. Harry's mother had punched him in front of a teacher he had yelled at. And he had had a P in Divination. That was truly interesting news. Not that she would use it against – just when she reached the marble staircase, a shriek escaped her, that also made the Aurors startle and draw their wands. She hadn't expected to be meeting anyone but them, especially not –

"Good gracious, young lady!", Professor Slughorn panted and held a hand to his hovering chest. "You gave me a fright!"

"Surprise, Professor. I was totally prepared.", she mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"Oh well, a good night, Miss."

"Yeah.", they walked some steps past one another when he called her back.

"But what are you doing out here? The Headmaster has clearly stated – "

"I'm a Prefect, Sir.", she pointed on her badge.

"Oh then, never mind me.", when she saw him shuffling around the banister and into a certain direction, she bent down over it and stopped him before he could take the spiral stairs.

"He's busy!"

"What did you say?"

"Professor Snape. He's busy."

"How come you think – oh of course. But I believe, he will not bother a – "

"Runespoor Eggs have swamped his entire floor. I think he _will_ bother."

"Runespoor Eggs? On his floor, you say?"

"His whole stock, yes."

"Oh goodness – yes, that sounds terrible. Well, then tomorrow, perhaps."

~~#~~

"Git."

Ron's malevolent stare up at the staff table said it all, regardless of the words he gnarled. Meanwhile she was used to it. Five years had toughened her up. Nevertheless she could still not bear it, especially when her head was full of numbers, signs, runes and calculations. Couldn't he just give her a nice lunch break?

"Evil git."

"Drop it, Ron.", she sighed. "No matter what you call him, he's not going to change. Quite the opposite, let him hear that and you can be glad if you don't get expelled, you know that. And I won't reconsider either. It's really been a record, Harry. Landing yourself in detention after half an hour in the first lesson of the year, congratulations."

"I told you!", Harry moaned. "I couldn't help it! It just slipped out! And anyway, it's not like it bothers him at all. He's just – I mean, look at him. He's a solid – emotionless – rock – ", he tried to fight back the memory of what he had seen in the Pensieve again and that very peculiar private conversation weeks later by stabbing hard into one of his baked mushrooms and therefore not noticing the looks Ginny and Neville exchanged.

"Just because he doesn't show it, it doesn't mean he's got no heart.", Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Uuuuuh. Granger's in love!", the cackling had come from behind and she spun, staring up ferociously like all of her housemates who had spotted them. "Now who's it, eh?"

"You, _Draco_.", nearly everyone in vicinity snorted into their lunch when they saw the looks on Malfoy's and his minions' faces.

"What's that, bitch?", Pansy Parkinson had torn herself off him and crossed her arms, Hermione had turned and was on her feet, having stepped over the bench with a roast knife in hand.

"You'd better pack your boobies securely.", she countered unshakeable, doing her best to hold the knife to Pansy's breasts; which were slightly bared by the fact that she had purposely left the upper buttons of her blouse and uniform vest open; in a way it wouldn't be seen from the staff table. "I might just cut them off, send them to the kitchen and have them for dinner."

"You – "

"Oh, no, no, no.", Hermione hissed, now holding it under Malfoy's chin; he had made a step forward, his hand moving towards his pocket. "You keep your filthy little hands at bay, or your girlfriend's – ", the knife pointed at the other girl again, "Ancient history.", she didn't even know what made her, but that feeling of power flooding her – though she couldn't _not_ admit it scared her a little.

"Let's get off.", he mumbled to his fellows. "The Mudblood's gone round the bend."

"What was _that_?", gargled Ron when she was back at her seat with a triumphant smile, the knife in the joint again and the Slytherins almost at the gilded doors.

"Sweet vengeance."

"Ya wouldn've stabbed her with tha', would ya?", Seamus asked, a little distracted by one of his front teeth, which he tapped with his tongue, half pondering.

"I'm actually not so sure anymore,", Hermione considered, looking up at the staff table for a mock check whether she had been seen, but mainly watched Burbage and Snape, who were everything but happy with their new neighbour.

"But you got to try this steak, Severus!", Slughorn brandished with a piece on his fork, past the woman again, loud enough for half the hall to hear. "It is magnificent!"

"Do you possess a memory?", was the cold reply.

"But that would fit perfectly to your – ", even though Slughorn was cut off, Hermione could clearly identify peas and rice on Snape's fork before they got swallowed.

"I asked you, whether you – "

"I do, but still you should try it. You're too skinny anyway. Now come. That would do.", Slughorn blithely took a slice and placed it on Snape's plate. "And some sauce as well,"

An entire scoop full went over the steak, dropping stains all over Burbage's place. Eyes wide open with despair, she clapped her hands onto her face. Hermione again noticed the golden ring on her right hand that hadn't been there before the holidays. But before she could brood over it, Snape had already reached for an empty bowl, filled it with new rice and peas, picked his fork and goblet and left through the automatically opening backdoor before Slughorn could do anything to stop him.

"Where'sh 'e gone?", Ron chomped his own bite of steak, his face directed towards the now empty chair just after the door had shut.

"Who?", Harry grunted, following his friend's eye. "Oh. Hopefully gone dancing with some Dementor."

"Harry!"

This time, they all were startled. Rather than usual, it hadn't been Hermione to speak the warning. But both girls blushed.

"Er – yes? Anything to say?", Ron eyed his sister as though he was looking at a snail that had been turned inside out.

"I just hate it when he does the Snuffles-thing.", Ginny grunted.

"Since when does it have such a stupid name when one wishes Snape what he deserves?"

"Because that's exactly what killed Snuffles in the end. I just don't want Harry to die, okay? Ha- Harry? What're you – ", but he was already halfway down the table, straight heading for the gilded doors.

"Great.", Ron huffed. "If he jumps off the front bridge now, it's your fault."

"I was just trying to say that it was his own fault that he died.", Ginny huffed. "Lupin told me Snape had warned him not to go. He warned him explicitly of Bellatrix Lestrange. See what happened."

"Lupin – said that?", Hermione frowned. "To you?"

"Yes. If you excuse me, I'll see if I can – ", Ginny was standing already when she was interrupted.

"If you mean to stop him jumping from the viaduct, you will only watch him fall.", said an airy but determined voice behind Ron whose head spun so fast his neck cracked. "Let me do that."

"And you think, you can stop him.", Ginny chuckled angrily.

"Oh yes. Because you'd be heading for the wrong place,", Luna smiled and hopped off.

"And what's the right place in your opinion?", Neville called after her.

"I said, let _me_ do that."

"She's totally freaky,", Ron shook his head and devoted to his plate again, just to see it emptied. "What the – ", he looked around but there was only the afters. "Damn it."

"She's not.", sighed Ginny and sat back down. "Not completely. Probably she really knows where he went. And since when do you complain about the change from salty fat to sugary fat."

~~#~~

"It's incredible, you know?"

"What is so incredible, Ron.", Hermione puffed.

Once again they were alone in the common room, doing their homework while Harry was off to see Dumbledore. At least Hermione did. Ginny was done with hers and watched them, close to dropping off to sleep about every five minutes. Ron had his usual difficulties, not only because he was generally easily distracted.

"That Harry can read that stuff!"

"Oh not again.", Ginny crashed her head onto the table, a little too forceful. "Ow."

"I mean,", Ron eyed her concerned.

"I'm fine.", she threw in and rubbed her forehead, definitely awake now.

"How can he read that scribbling?"

"You cannot even read your own handwriting, Ronald.", said Hermione, not taking her eyes off her essay and continued writing while she spoke. "It's no wonder you failed. And besides, the better for you. This way you actually learn to brew these potions, rather than – "

"Learn? How often do we have to tell you? The book's total crap, but the Prince got it all right!"

"` _The Prince´_. Oh listen to yourself. It's not like Charles or Andrew or Edward or William – or – or Harry – ever were good Potioneers – I – I mean – they're – "

"And how're _you_ doing that?", Ron continued over her fading muttering that hadn't worked out the way she had meant it to.

"What do you mean?"

"Writing and talking about two completely different things at once!"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I can, you see."

"And how I see it! That's absolutely brilliant!", Hermione didn't yet look up, but blushed.

"It's nothing really special, Ron. It's some natural law that people like her can do that."

"Yeah. Wicked. Hang on – remember? Two years ago in Potions? Snape's been correcting an essay while telling Neville off about a tiny mistake he'd just made, without even looking at him!", she blushed even more, actually remembering it.

"Yes. And maybe you remember that the potion you _committed_ in that lesson cost us ten points."

"Damn! Yeah! But that's not the – er – point – here. I mean, you're – Snape-ing!"

"I'm – _what?_ ", the second word came from Ginny as well.

"Snape-ing! Crazy, isn't it?", he looked from one to the other. "And a totally awful thing to do.", he considered dreamily.

"'Cause the word's awful,", meant Ginny.

"'Cause _he_ 's awful."

"I'm not – _Snape-ing_ , Ron.", Hermione sighed and her eyes and quill were back on her essay. "If any, I'm _Hermione-ing_."

"Hey! That sounds better.", she just huffed, the pink on her cheeks becoming bright red and burning with heat. "But to think, that it would mean that – Snape's – Hermione-ing – Ow!", she had grabbed a pile of parchment and slapped it onto his head. "Now you're really Snape-ing.", the menacing glare she gave him, didn't make it better. "See? Just what I say!", he sang.

"I'm going to – ", Ginny yawned and raised, "Bed, if you don't mind."

"Goodnight."

"G'night,", and picked up the very same pile as well, hitting him with an impious smirk. " _Ow!_ Why did _you_ do that?", Ron rubbed his head which tousled his hair.

"Because you're my brother and _because_ _I can_."

"Bloody panda – ", he turned to stare after her.

"'Night.", Ginny disappeared on the stairs. "Panda.", they could hear her chuckle before the door to her dormitory opened and closed.

"You girls are wicked."

"Well, thanks, Ron!", Hermione moaned. "Would you now continue your homework and stop grating on my nerves?"

"Okay, okay, I'm doing. Before you go all mad on me with a kitchen knife, blimey.", she kicked his foot. "Hey!", he groaned, but continued muttering to his own papers. "Completely loopy."

~~#~~


	17. Chapter 16 - In the Dust of a Night

– Chapter 16 –

 **In the Dust of a Night**

Christmas was close and the ` _bastard_ ´; how Ginny once had named him in London; was more alive than ever. Months had passed but she still bore Snape's whatever-game of random-confusing-advice-dropping and other likely statements he had reassumed. This time, in the subject he had so long desired to be teaching, even if he had denied it in front of Umbridge. She bore this game, which she had to admit, went on her own account. Knowing of his good memory, sometimes she wished she hadn't told him that she didn't care whether he continued treating her like scum.

Though what Hermione had heard from Harry ever since the beginning of the school year, hadn't been too pleasant to consider and was still burnt into every fibre of her body, much to her own discomfort: that this subject seemed to be cursed – that he might quite likely not survive the year or at least be fired. How would she find out whether he really protected Harry just because of Lily, if he continued exactly like this and then lost his job? Or worse, his l- no. Horrible enough, Harry had even recognisably increased his average number per week of wishing Snape dead. That had definitely been the climax of his unconditional hate so far. She just hoped Harry's powers hadn't secretly grown to the extent of making ghastly wishes come true. At least concerning Snape. She wouldn't have minded him successfully wishing Voldemort to hell – or Malfoy. And his gang. She desperately fought the urge to turn anything into a gigantic sword every time Pansy Parkinson was around.

But there was a small light on the end of the tunnel she prayed for everyone to see and actually apprehend. One thing was finally confirmed, no matter how much he verbally bullied the students. As a matter of fact, he _did_ teach them defensive magic, concentrating especially on making them able to cast it non-verbally – so did the other teachers, _but still_. If he actually wanted to bring down Voldemort, at least that was proof enough. Proof enough for Hermione, even if Ron insisted that this was just a tactic to distract everyone from his actual intentions; but what did Ron get right lately anyway? What did she care about that Ron? She cared so much about him that she had actually asked Cormac McLaggen out for Slughorn's personal Pre-Christmas-Party, just to make Ron possibly jealous. Not enough, she had even spread rumours that she was dating that swellheaded pea-brain.

It had barely been seven o'clock when she had stormed up to the dormitory, leaving Harry with a box of Chocolate Cauldrons presented to him by none other than hag number three, Romilda Vane – and shortly before reaching the door, running back downstairs and out of the common room when she had heard a loud, very exaggerated giggle that would surely not be deadened by the door at all. Because, as for hag number one – having managed to kick Pansy onto second place – she could vomit by the mere thought of her and she wasn't sure anymore whom to slay first.

 _Pathetic_ , she heard her own voice in her head, again remembering that moment more than three years ago. The events of the past years had really weakened her. Vomiting because of Dementors was acceptable. But because of that snake Lavender – without actually wanting, tears came to her eyes. Angry tears. And the more tears came, the more her anger stepped aside to let despair overwhelm her. To think that that bitch's snoring had benefited her until the beginning of –

She had no idea for how long she had sat curled up on the dusty staircase in that abandoned tower with no glass in the arched windows. She didn't even feel the cold of the winter outside. Sobbing heavily, she stared somewhere beside her knees, when she believed to have heard something. Looking up, she examined her surrounding and listened closely. Nothing. With a sigh, she dropped her head, just to startle up again.

"You are not supposed to sit on a staircase like this, in a tower like this, in the middle of the night – again."

The deep voice came whispering kind of softly, but rather emotionless from in front of her, though there was nobody. Just slowly, he appeared as if from thin air. Off her mind, she couldn't even wonder how he managed to become invisible without a cloak like Harry's. Still crying, she looked away.

"You could land yourself in detention."

"What do I care about detention.", she replied a little snooty, to her own surprise. "And I'm a Prefect."

"But I care. Why are you sitting here, crying?"

"That's none of your business.", it just burst from her mouth. "You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Would I not?"

"No! You wouldn't! Because you don't know what it's like!", she cried, still not looking at him. "You don't know what it's like to love someone who's out of reach.", she sniffed, noticing the sadness crawling into his face even from the corner of her eye and understood somewhere in the back of her head that she had accused the wrong person.

"I do."

She barely heard it through her sobbing, but she did, though not fully trusting her own ears whether they had in fact heard him saying what she had been suspecting ever since he had looked out of the windows in the Hospital Wing in thoughts.

"What?", lifting her head, she eyed him through the veil of her tears, slightly lit by the winter moonlight, their eyes meeting.

"I said – I do.", he whispered, closed his eyes for a short moment, then looked at the cold grey stone floor.

"You – "

Hermione wiped away some of her tears with the back of her right hand, seeing him raising his head again, for gazing out the glassless window to his left, lips opened just a wee bit, like she had seen him several times in the past. Then he lowered his head once more, slowly walked towards her, gave the stair she sat on a cleaning wave of his hand and took a seat at her right, not looking at her. Still chuckling quietly from her former crying, she watched him staring into space for a while, until a single tear ran from his left eye, shimmering in the pale, indirect light falling through the arches. He pushed his left hand into the left pocket of his black trousers and Hermione already expected his special pouch.

Astonished, she found him taking out a neatly folded white handkerchief made from cotton fabric. He obviously hadn't used it since the last wash. Much more, he offered it to her, yet not daring to look at her. With another glance at the silhouette of his sad face, she took it with her trembling hands and he placed his flatly on his thighs while she cleaned her nose, then wiped off her remaining tears.

"Tell me about him.", he whispered.

"Sir?"

"Tell me about Ronald.", he actually knew? "Don't look at me like your mind didn't expect me to know when your heart says different. Believe it or not, I recognise love when I see it. So do you, so does Harry, so does Ginny Weasley, so – does everyone who truly loved for at least one moment. That, I know for sure, even if I have no clue why the very same love makes us do the most stupid things, crushing us all in the end beneath the ruins of our luck, demolished by our mindless mistakes.", Hermione was used to hear him playing with words, but that truth spoken out loud, just overstrained her in the current situation.

"Who?", was all she could get out, feeling her eyes pleading to have her considerations confirmed at last.

"I reckon, you followed my advices.", he said it as though he knew she had. "I ever knew you can keep secrets. For some time, I feared your hormones or probity would win, but given the fact they haven't, I can see how similar we actually are, in some ways.", he paused. "You mustn't tell anyone, I cannot emphasise this often enough. No matter what happens, _no one must know_. Albus knows little, so does Minerva, I think, though not the essentials. Harry found out parts – just – not the whole truth, and that bugs him too much anyway. Hermione – you must – _swear_ – to me – whatever happens, don't tell anyone. Not even Ginny. Yes, I know quite well that she can put one and one together and has seen and heard things she might actually take into account, but _whatever happens_ , she is not supposed to know the reasons. Not yet."

"I swear.", Hermione aspirated, still waiting for him to look at her, but he wouldn't; he only took a very deep breath and she decided to listen to what he was going to tell her.

"My father was a Muggle, my mother a Witch.", he then started, apparently satisfied with her reaction. "She had found him on the street in the rain, homeless, a bottle of wine in his hand and shaking heavily. Though she had a humble flat and an even more humble income, working as an assistant at Flourish and Blotts, she took him to live with her. Not knowing him, never having seen him before, never having talked to him before. She brought him to her flat, let him sleep in her bed and took the floor instead. She gave him food and shelter for one night – or more, if he promised to stop drinking and get a job."

To Hermione, this sounded like either something really brave or something really stupid. A lone woman taking a complete stranger and drunk home with her –

"My mother had a quite reliable talent for seeing the good in peoples' eyes. She got him off the street, off alcohol and he even took on a job at the local grocery store, one of the first ones of its kind back then in the fifties. Second World War had ended not long ago when they met. Everyone had hope for a better future. So did they as well. They became friends – fell in love – married – everything was perfect. They had enough for living. _Just_ living. Later on, only a little more, to find themselves a slightly bigger home. But they were happy. Then she got pregnant. And they knew that – ", he broke off.

"That things wouldn't be rosy from then.", Hermione finished.

"Exactly. He worked longer, took a second job at weekends, down in the mill."

"Did he know she was a witch?"

"Of course. And she was, as I said, a _gifted_ witch. Did a lot by magic, saving money like nobody would have been able to. She could repair everything, wash all things without having to pay for the water, heat the flat, heal wounds, brew medicine – but still they had just little money to pay for the rent or food. And now there would be a child to feed. Even more tragic, two."

"She got pregnant again?"

"No. I had a twin brother."

Those words came with such sorrow, Hermione feared to fall into a deep depression herself. She only watched him breathing in search for words. It had never come to her mind whether he had ever had siblings. So many hours she had spent in the last three years, thinking about him, but hadn't – well, she had, she now remembered.

"Non-identical. Speaking about looks,", he said, perhaps to give himself some time to think, she considered, "While I came exactly after Mother, he was Father's mirror, if not so well-built in the end. I inherited a tiny bit more of Father's size – and his nose, unfortunately."

"There's not a thing wrong about your nose, Sir.", he chuckled, her suspicions getting stronger again.

"How very charming. But noses are the least important thing to discuss now.", Hermione swallowed down a smirk, pondering why he indeed brought it up. "Probably even less important than Tubeworms in the process of baking cake."

"Sorry.", she mumbled. "So – they didn't give one of you away, did they? Or – "

"They did. He got adopted by a very caring couple, actually not looking too different from our father, though they weren't relatives at all – a fortune that made things easier, as Mother had said."

"So he never knew his real parents? Or you? But you must have been at Hogwarts together, not?"

"Of course we had been at Hogwarts together. But I am afraid he never really figured out that I could be his brother. Maybe he had felt something, yet I don't know what exactly he had felt as he had constantly been unsure about it. I however, of course recognised the almost-copy of our father when he was; meant by which fate ever; sitting in front of me on the train. Nevertheless, by the way he treated me from the first moment on and by how different we looked, I think I could have never made him believe me, no matter how hard I would have tried. So I didn't."

"I'm sorry for you – "

"There is no need for you to be.", he lightly shook his head. "Anyway, his adoptive parents had more money and gave some to our real parents every month. Not directly, but Mother would find monthly envelopes with some Galleons in the post-box. She locked everything away, not telling Father about it. She wanted to grant me a better life in future or paying school in case it was needed."

"In case you weren't a wizard.", Hermione nodded, knowing how much her parents had put aside for a good education. "But you turned out to be."

"Of course. My mother's genes had been so strong, it would have needed a miracle for me to become a Squib. But even in those days, new books and other stuff for Hogwarts and the uniform weren't cheap either."

"So the reason remained the same."

"Yes. Though I then reused most of her books and even parts of the uniform, before I grew out of it. You see, I had to. I was just ten when he found the money.", he carried on about the cause. "Suddenly my formerly – er – rather careless father turned into a brutal beast. Mother was too perplexed, too scared to use magic against him – too shocked as to overpower him so she could tell him why she had hidden it. He – he hit – hit her severely – worse than ever – she was close to dying when he finally stopped – took the money – and left. From then on we tried to convince everyone who asked, that he was sitting at home, ill."

"And your mother got well? Fully? I mean,"

"I could cure her with the potions we had in storage. She was a strong woman. Went to work again the following day. Worked even more, even harder. I was – an easy child, if you want to call it that way. I could take care of myself. Most days, before and after, I spent wandering around in town or outside – learned to climb trees – houses later. Then I just sat there, up high, enjoying the landscape outside the town. While other children were playing they could fly like birds, I sat in the trees or on the roofs – and had no need of such dreams. Being able to reach places the others couldn't, made me feel like I was free as a bird. On other days I locked myself in an read until Mother came home."

"That didn't bring you many friends, did it?"

"No.", he laughed quietly and dull – but it was the first time she had ever heard him laugh in any way. "I had no friends for a very long time. You know, like my mother did as a child, I looked rather odd. Big dark eyes, pale skin, messy black hair additionally cut in a lazy way that wouldn't make anyone believe I could be friendly, and my clothes were mostly a mixed mess as well, too wide for me. I was the strange boy from the pit, so to say. But I didn't care. I had the trees – I had the wind – the sky – the books – and I had Mother. That was all I needed. Yes, it made me a bit sad, watching the other children having fun, but I knew I was different in fact and that made it easier for me to accept I could also enjoy different things."

"So you were always alone?"

"Not really. There were the Evans, living next alley. I had watched them, but some months before Father left us, for the very first time I caught myself caring for another person than my mother. The Evans were a Muggle couple with two daughters. One of them, however, was unlike her family and her sister hated that. She hated her. Hated her for being able to do the most beautiful things, like for example making a flower appear on her bare hands or turning fallen leaves purple just by simply wanting it. After having heard it for almost a year, I couldn't listen to it anymore. I couldn't listen to Petunia calling her sister a freak. So I did what I could do best to other children when they came at me. I scared her so much that she would never approach or insult her sister again, when I was around."

"And you have found a friend at last.", he still didn't look at Hermione, but nodded.

"Lily and I became more than just friends. We became, what others who have friends, would call _best_ friends. But you know that. We were like one. I had someone who shared the roofs and the books with me until we finally then got our letters. Two months later, our friendship should be put to test. We were sorted into different Houses. But that didn't stop us, naturally. Our friendship was breaking every unwritten rule. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin being best friends – scandalous.", he smiled wearily. "One teacher couldn't help noticing our friendship and our skills and that, combined, we would make the kind of students he had ever wished to – ", he sighed with slight disgust, "Collect."

"Professor Slughorn was the teacher you mentioned last year?", Hermione remembered him standing with his back on her.

"Has Harry told you what Albus wants him to do?"

"Of course."

"Then he also told you why I had stopped giving him Occlumency lessons?"

"Faintly.", she sighed as sad as he looked. "I mean, he didn't name it, but it doesn't need Legilimency when you find him slamming his photo album shut with rage. James really wasn't charming, was he?"

"He could be, if he wanted.", Snape shrugged. "Well, _if_ he wanted. After all, he fancied Lily. But there was one thing he wouldn't understand. The best way to explain is probably when I tell you about the ball."

"The ball?"

"Professor Altena was a passionate dancer and organised a ball before she resigned, also as a little relief after the exams, I think. Lily was enjoying herself like never before. James sensed triumph. At last, he had achieved something none of us would have guessed. Well, it was partly my fault as well, but he had made me so angry I had lost myself."

"You had called her a Mudblood, hadn't you?"

"If there was this one thing he couldn't get, then how it could only hurt her for a moment and then she could care less than everyone else who had heard it, including Albus who had happened to had walked by the moment the word had slipped over my lips. He had a second eye on me ever since. Studied me more than Slughorn did. When he as well noticed that it hadn't changed a thing between Lily and me, he got curious. It was – well – a _little_ annoying, I have to admit. I believe, I expressly enjoined him to desist from it. Anyhow, by that time James had already tried to get Lily for himself. Of course Lily was as much a totally innocent angel as I was. She played the reluctant bitch and went out with James, just to test whether I got as jealous he could get or rather let her do, more caring for her happiness than my own."

"Did she come back to you?", he gave a silent nod.

"As kind as she was, she could be a pest too, if necessary. Kissed James in public, but when I came around, she immediately jumped after me and acted as if nothing had happened between them. That infuriated James to the bitter end. We had some rather tough duels on that, almost wherever possible. Her only intervention was to deflect both our spells from between us in every direction. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore finding it rather entertaining to watch, we three would have been expelled right away. It was quite a fun time, to be honest. Unfortunately it ended with NEWTs. Then something must have happened when I'd been away."

"Away? Oh – Germany and – Ukraine?", she remembered. "And Professor Karkaroff – "

"Exactly. The situation had gotten tense and my mother planned to leave the country right after I graduated. I went with her to a place in northern Germany she had spent some years of her childhood at. But things weren't – _rosy_ – either.", he breathed in mournfully, close to tears again.

"I know.", Hermione said once more, feeling her own fingers clinging tighter to his handkerchief.

"Of course you do. I still wonder how you got that out of him, but – "

"I just asked him.", she saw that he wasn't fully convinced. "Okay – I told him that you saved my life. Then he babbled away.", Hermione grunted. "Something you seem to have in common."

"Probably.", he sighed. "So you see, I wasn't alone. I had found a friend at last, a little different from those supposed friends I had been hanging around with at Hogwarts, apart from three of course. Those who Lily had warned me of; that they might just be foolish enough to join the Dark Lord's army of lost souls. I found a _real_ friend next to her, or Reg – and Charity – she was too young yet to understand every bit."

"Tz."

"I know, you don't like that opinion of mine, but I don't believe it to be wise to speak openly about real love and jealousy and brutal murder with a twelve-year-old."

"There are exceptions."

"There are. And I am one of them, I believe, if I think back on my childhood. But exceptions are exceptions. Keep that in mind. Well, after my mother's death, Igor and I moved to the south of Ukraine, at the Sea of Azov. It was a rather wonderful time, despite all. He managed to distract me. We spent those months in the wilderness hunting, fishing, but also working in the closest town – talking – a lot, in fact – and exchanging languages, like before."

"So it's true. What was it like for you, by the way? Working at a florist's? Professor Burbage meant that you still miss – even though – ", it just flowed out of her before she could stop it. "Sorry, Sir."

"Why don't you call me Severus already."

For the first time after what seemed to have been hours, he finally looked at her, with a smile she had actually already seen once on him, but not so distinctively. It was gentle and warm. Not big, but honest. Hermione gazed at him as though hit by a Stunning Spell however.

"Now don't look at me like that,", he murmured. "We had this going on for two years now. Don't you think it might be a little easier to discuss things if we dropped that distance we both know to have vanished long ago?"

"Finally?", it escaped her, leading to immediate embarrassment and her hand clapping onto her mouth so quickly that the insides of her lips still hurt when she lowered her arm. "Um – alright – Severus.", she returned the smile, yet hesitantly and with a little blush she felt against the cold of the night.

"Though, only when we are alone; I hope you understand."

"Of course, Sir – um – Severus, I mean.", Hermione used his returned thoughtfulness for a second of pondering herself. "You said, Lily was afraid that you might hang around too much with people who were liable to join Voldemort – but Professor Karkaroff – he became a Death Eater!"

"That would be true, if one would not look beneath the icy surface."

"Like – like you – ", she aspirated.

"Ever in for a deflating surprise, people are. You condole over a demise that could be avoided so far and months later you demonise the same man for an opinion you built yourself about him, based on information a person like you should have acknowledged to be as false as the other.

"Er – "

"Owning a broom doesn't make you a Quidditch player, now does it? You see, though we lived in the middle of nowhere, we weren't cut off. Naturally, we knew what was going on in Britain. So Igor came up with an idea. Everyone who fought him openly, ended up dead. Those who did it secretly, would quite likely as well. But what if he would never get to know his real enemies? The plan was as ridiculous and mad as can be, but that was what made it brilliant, eventually. So since we both were over the standard at Occlumency at our young age; and therefore of course totally full of ourselves and most naïve; we believed we would be a match for him in terms of mind intruding and controlling powers. We left for England to join him."

Hermione was struck. Everything she had hoped for – everything she had wished to be the truth – had really not been just her imagination? But what mostly shocked her was an inexplainable sensation of that confirmation – she had wished for it and now that she had said proof, it was as though an anvil had crushed her. Nevertheless it all made more sense now. Everything made sense. No, _almost_ everything. Therefore she decided to continue listening before she would drift off into wondering about too many things too early again.

"Of course we were prepared. We planned it a long time beforehand. We knew what he might ask of us. But I wanted to bring him down so desperately, I found myself careless. I was driven by something the very person who did and still does care for me as if I were something like his son, experienced himself. I – was ready to do everything for my notion. Even ready to kill, just for – _a greater good_.", he swallowed hard.

His words from the past came back to her mind. _Go, before I forget that I had principles on whom to kill and whom to spare_.. _jus' imagine_.. So he had actually meant those words. All the jokes about killing. Those conversations with Charity Burbage. The words he had said to Umbridge. He was not only capable of performing a very strong Cruciatus Curse, he was _able_ _to kill_. Not only mice, humans too. He _was_ a murderer. And the way he talked about it – as casually as if he recalled what the weather had been like some years ago – alarmed her a bit. After all it was _real_ murder he had committed and now confessed once and for all. Did he honestly expect she could take that – easy?

"Though mind that I would have never gone as far as to kill anyone who was dear to me. And regarding the others – I did in fact decide. I didn't kill young parents or children. I didn't kill people who weren't fully ready to kill on their own either. Naturally, the Dark Lord noticed. I mean, how couldn't he? He got curious. Asked me why I showed mercy."

"How did he take your answer?", she spoke right away without knowing what his answer actually was, trying to ignore the knot in her throat that grew with every time he said the word `kill´, while it had normally left her cold.

"Quite to my surprise, with understanding. I told him that I never regretted being my mother's son. I told him the same I just told you – probably an urge to make him feel something like care, I don't know. So I told him bits about my childhood; that, like his, my father had – abandoned me – only – only I spared everything concerning Lily or James, of course. Lastly, I didn't want to bring them in danger. So I told him how my mother decided to leave the country for my safety – that she – tried to save me – in the moment she was dying – "

"He – understood it?"

"Interesting, isn't it? After all he had done, after all that hate grown inside him, beside all his narcissism, he seemed to have cared for his guileful mother at last, who had died when giving birth to him; that she hadn't given up on him, but given her life for his. And we both had been left alone by our Muggle fathers. Even though the specifics couldn't be more differing."

"You think – "

"Yes, he has some kind of a weak point. Faintly, but there. And that is all Igor and I had hoped for. As cruel as it may sound, we knew then he was still human enough that he might make a mistake one day. What this mistake was – we have an idea; Albus and I, I mean. We just haven't got the detail – confirmed completely yet.", he took a longer pause on that, staring at the bricks in front of him. "Well, I gained the Dark Lord's trust, more than anybody else. Unfortunately Igor managed to get himself caught by Aurors one day. Azkaban nearly drove him insane. More than he already was.", he noticed with a chuckle. "Later, after the Lord's fall, he even told the Ministry that I was running around with the Dark Mark on my arm, just for the chance to get out. To his bad, I had been faster to realise I couldn't do it all alone. But you know that much as well.", Hermione nodded.

"And you indeed forgave him?"

"Why not? I mean, I don't know whether he has fully figured it yet, but he has actually saved my neck."

"Er – ", she had wondered about that before.

"Telling a room half filled with Death Eaters what a devoted follower I am, with only Albus' word against him, he couldn't have done any better. We both were off the hook. I had Albus on my side, and the Lord, since those Death Eaters couldn't put any value in – old Dumbledore's blabbering, when a backstabber was standing opposite to him. Igor was a free man to the Ministry for turning in Barty. And since he went straight back to Durmstrang, he was safe from any grudge."

"Sounds – logical – um – I think, we drifted off a little."

"Only on. But you can guess, after we joined the Devil's party, I first went to Lily – finding her in Godrics Hollow. A – a ring on her finger. She had just married James.", he curled his lips. "Now this is very important, Hermione. _Harry_ _mustn't know_. By no means!"

"I promise, I won't tell."

"Of course I had to show her the brand and – she was shocked, naturally. She was in tears like never before, not understanding the world anymore. First I appeared again after she had thought me dead for more than a year and then I was supposed to be loyal to the one I swore to her I would never join? But she decided to listen. I told her everything. So did she – and I understood that the ring – it was – nothing but a ring. It had meant the world to her, but in fact, she would have rather preferred to see its twin on another person's finger than James', yet it wasn't. Yes, she did love James, but not – in the same – way – "

"As she loved you.", finally it was spoken. "You – had an affair?"

"Expectably, not?", he chuckled limply. "However, she tried to convince me to go to Albus. I constantly refused. I didn't know what to tell him. After those things I had done, I was too childishly shy to face the one man who somehow cared for my welfare as much as Lily did. Then something happened neither Lily nor, especially, James ever expected after he had been told that he was impotent."

"Er – impotent? But he – no – that – can't be – he – _like his father_ – that – ", Hermione stammered, unable to hold herself from saying something, but not fully finding words either. "So _that's_ why – he really – oh my god – no – "

"It was our little secret. Even more, after I had overheard parts of Sybill's prophecy.", he swallowed and sniffed, "Not even Albus knows. Not that James was my brother – and – above all – that – "

Sixteen years he had kept it locked up, not mentioned it in front of anyone but Lily or Eli. Sixteen years of restraint. Now, the moment felt right. That he could say it. That there was no need to hold it back. He had gone too far. She knew and she had been aware of it for too long anyway, even though she refused to admit it to herself.

"Harry – is my son."

Those words flowed out of him with a relieved breath, followed by a smirk. Hermione felt horrible. Guilty. Ashamed. How could she believe it was unable to bear what Ron was doing? How could he have made her forget all she had seen?

"Why – ", was the only moan she could get out now.

"Because he had decided so.", with every word, his voice started shaking more and more. "By the moment Voldemort decided for seeing Harry as the one, instead of Neville Longbottom, who would have fit into the prophecy as perfectly as Harry did – by that moment – we both knew what to do. You might not understand – it is still hard for me to accept, but I got myself into it."

Neville – Hermione thought. Even though Harry had told them about that twist, now she knew why Neville had to suffer in Potions. Though she found it rather unfair to taunt Neville for having been spared. That couldn't even be outpaced by the fascination of having him heard saying the name, rather than referring to the monster as the Dark Lord – or these utterly incredible confessions –

"It was me who had told him about the prophecy.", he buried his face in his hands, leaning onto his thighs. "I – I killed them – ", she heard him sobbing, which brought her back from her thoughts.

"No.", hesitantly, she put her hand on his left shoulder. "It was him."

"But I – have g-given him – the reason to!"

"You couldn't have known how he would interpret it.", Hermione said calmingly. "It's not your fault."

"It _was_ my fault. I broke my own rule. I broke my rule to keep him from killing children. And – that is what I got now – having to live with the result of my – idiocy – "

"They are both still alive, Harry _and_ Neville. Listen – you know what happened to Neville's parents, don't you?", he nodded, face still covered. "Sure. So, what kind of life is this, you think? They don't recognise their own child! All Neville has left are empty corpses. Harry lives, aware that his parents sacrificed themselves for him. Okay, so does Neville. As much as it hurts him, it makes him proud to feed his living dead parents. But still Harry's fate is a more pleasant one, I think. He doesn't have to look at the wrecks that once gave him his life. By their death, by their sacrifice, Harry has grown faith in the power of a loving heart and soul. He has grown powers that make him quite a match to – ", her throat had become dry and she swallowed, "Voldemort, quite able to finish what hundreds of people died for. And he has _you_. He still has family. Even, if we don't count the Dursleys as such. Tell him. Tell him who you are."

"Bu' tha's tha poin'!", he cried out; though not yelling; and raised his head, presenting Hermione distorted features shattered with grief, despair and fresh tears. "Ye're righ'! 'E knows tha' 'is paren's died fer 'im. 'T's wha' makes 'im stron'! If 'e knew 'e's go' family lef' – 'e'd feel – _safer!_ "

"But wouldn't that be g– "

" _No._ Feelin' safe makes 'im careless. It makes 'im clumsy. Believe me, _I know_. That is one o' the things that always differed James an' meself.", with the loss of strain, his pronunciation became again what she was used to. "While he was growin' up in safety, a little more wouldn't distract 'im. I however, was never used to be safe. Nor was Harry. As much as safety makes me too curious about the reasons why and therefore distracts me from continuing to protect myself, the same it does distract him. When I told Lily about the prophecy and the possibilities, she knew that we _had_ to keep it secret. Yes, we were playing with the idea of actually telling James, but the prophecy changed everything in the end. Lily knew that it was on them to protect Harry. And then she was pr– ", he turned to the window and took another of those deep breaths, "Ready to die.", curling his lips bitterly, he swallowed down something that looked more like anger than sadness, resting his mouth and nose in his hands for a moment, then placing his chin on his now crossed fingers. "She believed in the power of love. As you see, she was right. By throwing herself in between, by refusing to step aside, she repelled his spell and it backfired."

"I know. But why didn't he fully die then?"

"That is what Albus and I had been riddling about for years, but didn't get full proof until a couple of months ago. Though, I knew. I knew from the first moment on what it could be – but didn't want to believe. I already knew when Lily made me swear that I'd protect Harry out of the shadows when she was gone. She made me swear that I kept up the lie to save him – to give the Lord one less reason, give Harry one less wound point. After seeing how Sirius' death had crushed Harry, I finally understood _how_ crucial it is that he mustn't find out until this war is over. Like his parents, Harry is the type of person who would rather sacrifice himself than someone he feels for. The less people he truly loves, the more he can concentrate on his actual task."

"That's just – a barbaric way of think– "

" _That is war_ , Hermione!", he whispered, cutting off her moan, his eyes on her and his hands on his thighs again. "Sometimes you have to know your enemy's way of thinking and modify it to your own best in order to succeed. If you truly love, you will have to abandon. An abandoned animal can become the strongest and most dangerous monster. Just – look at what this made with – ", he tried, but couldn't speak further.

"So – you've done nothing else than – preparing him to kill – ", she aspirated.

"In fact, he has he has inherited quite a lot from his mother. Harry, could _never_ kill."

"He was close to – do Sirius – "

"But he didn't. Do you think, I would have killed anyone with my mother not having died the way she did? You think, I would have been able to cut anyone's thread of life if she had fallen in war rather? Because I don't."

"So you say – "

"It feels very different to lose a person being murdered by another. You just cannot continue being a monster similar to the one who erased the person you loved more than anything else from the world. I told Lily about the prophecy, and months later, she finally managed to make me go to Albus and confess. Though I didn't tell him about the plan Igor and I had built up. I only explained that I regretted most what I had done. What that would be, I left up to him. He promised me to save them. But, _wise_ as he was, he wanted to make sure it wasn't just empty words."

"No.", Hermione shook her head, getting the clue. " _No._ "

"He was the one who extradited me to the Ministry."

"No! That's not – _no!_ "

"Keep your voice down, Hermione. I am not worth that much of attention."

"You are."

His face was on her immediately. Appalled by her own words, she again clapped her hand on her mouth, probably in hope to lock more of such in, as he breathed in even deeper, close to tears again and gave her a rather miserable smirk.

"Sorry."

"Keep your apologies to a minimum, if you please."

"So- I mean, I will try to.", she grinned embarrassed, lowering her hand. "But you said, he cared for you like a father – "

"I disappointed him. He had faith in me, but I became what he never expected me to with Lily behind me."

"But why didn't you tell him about the plan then?"

"The less know, the better."

"Yes, only that he is an exceptionally powerful Occlumens, while you know _I_ am still far from that.", she noted, but was ignored.

"I accepted the trial. It fitted perfectly in the plan. Everyone would have told them regret under those circumstances. The Lord would understand, if he should return – and he did. Heforgave me for that.", Hermione eyed him a little sceptical, remembering his ignorance when she had ran after him in the front yard back then, but didn't say anything. "And Albus, witnessing the hearing, realised what he had done.", his tone became more determined, even a little manic. "He had thrown me into the lion's den, thinking he would punish me for what he thought I had made of myself, but in fact he punished _him_ self. I bore it, for having handed my own family to Voldemort on a silver platter, and for educating Albus. He _had_ to watch what he was capable of doing to those he cared for. The lesson he hadn't learned in the past, had to sink in for once. And it did, at least to some extent. Every time I turn my back on him and he remembers, I can downright hear his shame thundering in all directions."

"What did he do _in the past_ that you were willing to accept such torture?", moaned Hermione.

"You'd better ask him yourself. Though don't expect the kind old man you know him as. Be prepared for being kicked out of the room, literally."

"That doesn't sound good,"

"Oh, not at all.", snarled Severus. "You should have seen him. I wouldn't have believed it until then, but he is able to cry. He cried so much, I'd never seen him ever again. Unfortunately enough days passed until that sneak of a repulsive, _wormy_ toad showed his true side. My bad that I suspected the wrong man immediately – and for years, just like everyone else did. Pettigrew was ever the little, pitiful rat – not even I had expected him to be such a fantastic Occlumens. Not even _I_ knew that he was a Death Eater and I was closest to the Dark Lord. He must have venerated him for a long time and joined him just soon enough to spread the news about Lily's and James' whereabouts."

"I still don't get that either.", she faintly shook her head.

"A nice example what jealousy and fear can cause. After all, Lily had ensured me that Sirius was their secret keeper, but it seems James found out I knew and feared the Lord would discover it. So he entrusted little magpie Peter with the position. Maybe Sirius even encouraged him. Of course the change had made it impossible for me to discover their house though I knew where it was. Just a little additional triumph for James, regardless of the fact that he had almost come to better terms with me. Unfortunately, his last. Therefore I couldn't reach them in time.", he sighed worse than ever and looked out into the night. "If I'd only stayed – I – I could've – only minutes – "

"Stayed? Stayed where – "

"I had come to visit Harry. You know, Hallowe'en, family traditions – but – but as I said, the house was gone for me. So I went straight to Sirius. But I couldn't find him. My tracking skills weren't as good as today. He must have been transformed at that time. Yet I felt that something was not right. I – I went back to – to – I only – I – came – too – "

"And Dumbledore?", Hermione couldn't listen to that horrified tremor in his voice. "Did he know what was going on? I mean, he promised to protect them – "

"He did protect _something_ , in his very own way. As I said, enough time went by. He believed in Lily's considerations, rather than my concern. He sat there – and watched. He just watched it all happen and Lily's theory turn out to have been right. He let them die f– ", he broke off.

"For a greater good.", new tears stood in Hermione's eyes as well.

"Yes, again. Never learning, dear Albus.", he mumbled, but continued more clear. "He realised that Voldemort wasn't finished. He felt it, like all of us did. He knew that Voldemort wouldn't rest until Harry was dead at last. Albus decided in the same night to place Harry in the care of his remaining aunt and uncle – just for the benefit of the promise Lily had made me make. So Harry grew up exactly where he belonged to. He wasn't fed like James. He wasn't spoilt like James. He learned to be alone, like I had. He learned to take care of himself. And when he entered Hogwarts – when he made the Sorting Hat throw him into Gryffindor, I knew he would become even more stubborn than his father. Like Slughorn had discovered back then, Lily's determination was dangerous. My determination was dangerous. And ` _both together would make the most lethal and fragile bomb imaginable_ ´. Believe me when I say that, if Volcano Harry actually erupts, you wish you were sitting somewhere near the core of our planet, watching the masses of lava down there still flowing peacefully.", there was a pause.

"I know.", Hermione chuckled with a moan, looking slightly up to him. "When he really is angry, you wished you had a Bludger to knock him out for a couple of days."

Just slowly, Severus began to laugh, quiet. When he dropped his head back with a broad smile, Hermione couldn't help but join in. However, his smile didn't last long then. Nevertheless this moment would be one of those they both would remember forever.

"Enjoy your time here as long as you can.", he faced her, serious again. "You don't have much left."

"Um – what do you mean?", she was slightly confused and her smile faded as well.

"When Albus is gone, this place will change."

"Gone? Why should he – "

"I assume, you have noticed his hand?", Hermione nodded. "As he tried to discover Voldemort's secret, he came across an object. Rather small – easy to be overseen – but powerful. More powerful than even he had expected. As it occurred, he tried to destroy it."

"Did he manage to?"

"Partly, I think. At least he seemed to have succeeded destroying the part of it he had wanted to break. Only the other part – cannot be fully destroyed. Maybe it could be, by the rightful owner, but since it wasn't him, Albus couldn't – and knowing what it was, I think he was – tempted again. Even worse, he caught himself a most terrible curse, from both the ring and the stone set into it. I could ban the curse to the hand for a while and give him something against the pain, but we both knew it would spread. It is one of those unruly curses getting stronger with time. I do my best to give him more of that precious phenomenon, but I fear I am at a point where I am unable to. It has reached his elbow."

"What happens when – ", Hermione started, though knowing the answer already.

"When the curse reaches his heart, he will be dead. This mustn't happen. I have to kill him first."

"Kill _him_?", she shrieked.

"Sh!"

"Sorry.", she blushed and pricked up her ears nervously. "Kill _him_?", she whispered.

"The ring once belonged to Voldemort's mother and therefore, belongs to him. Even if the stone might not, it is the part of the curse coming from the ring which is to bother us. When the curse kills Albus, it will have the same effect as if Voldemort killed him. And that – _mustn't_ happen."

"Explain.", Hermione demanded, much to her own surprise.

"Albus possesses something very powerful that has ever been handed on by defeating the owner. A very powerful weapon.", she suddenly remembered how people used to believe Dumbledore had a weapon he could overthrow the Ministry with.

"What would that be?"

"The Elder Wand.", no reaction, just curiosity. "Second – ", he narrowed his eyebrows. "You don't know about the Elder Wand? The Deathly Hallows? No?"

"No?", she smirked honestly and suddenly painfully embarrassed, having to hear him making it even worse.

"And I thought you were the cleverest girl currently attending Hogwarts."

"Hey!", she hissed. "I'm not that much of a library!"

"Well, then I suppose I will have to tell you – the – ah – _most philosophical_ fairytale taught to children born magical. It's called The Tale of the Three Brothers. Mother read it often enough to me that I know every word by heart. But, since our little chat here isn't supposed to happen, I must insist you act as if you don't know the story yet, whenever you come to hear something connected to it.", she nodded, although she thought it to be ridiculous, since, if it really was such a common story, she could have read it, couldn't she? "You are aware that this means, you have to be very cautious about details? Not only now, but probably for the rest of your life?", another nod. "All right.", he sighed.

Hermione literally sought in every word of the story, careful not to miss a single one. A story, almost the entire wizarding world believed to be nothing but a legend, told to teach children morals. That killing was not alright. That no one could fully return from the dead. That death wasn't horrible when having lived a life full of love. That death – could be greeted like an old friend, by a anyone who was ready to face it. That death was nothing to fear, but rather a part of life. One thing however, made her curious. Could – Death – be an actual being? Or had the creator of the objects more likely been a very powerful wizard, testing the brothers? Or had even the brothers themselves created these objects? After all the second brother knew how to use the stone..

"So Professor Dumbledore believes that they exist?"

"He _knows_ that they exist. So do I. Or so he does, because of me and James."

"But that would mean that he actually killed someone?"

"It seems so, doesn't it? But it must have been a person of little value in history. The only one ever known to battle him integrally, was Gellert Grindelwald. And he, known fact, sits locked up in his own prison – if he is still alive after all these years. Though Albus never told me whether Grindelwald had possessed the wand at last, having been said to have searched for it for many years. Yet the wand is one reason why I have to kill Albus. Nobody else would dare to, even when being aware of the facts. We both know from experience, that people on our side would never kill Albus. Second, Voldemort wants him away, whether he knows he possesses the wand or not. Horrible enough, he entrusted Draco Malfoy with the murder, as punishment for his father."

"But how could Malfoy possibly do that? Even if he knew that Dumbledore – has to – has to die?"

"He can't. Draco isn't a killer. Everyone knows that. But I swore to protect Draco. I swore to continue his task if he should fail. They made me, Narcissa and Bellatrix. If I don't, I will die as well."

"They swore they'd kill you?"

"Not they will. I could avoid that. But the vow will. The Unbreakable Vow. I hope you know about that one.", Hermione didn't nod, but he obviously saw in her face that she was familiar with the term. "I have many reasons to kill the person who has become much like a father to me. And I am not talking about revenge for his lousy attempts so save what's left of my family. To spare him a horrible death, to prevent Draco from murder, to not make Voldemort the rightful owner of the Elder Wand, to gain his biggest trust – "

"But what if he _does_ find out that Dumbledore has the wand?"

"This must be kept secret as long as it takes Harry to become more powerful than that wand – with any other wand. After all, Albus proved such is possible. Ask those who know what he was capable of when he was nothing more than a student at Hogwarts."

"Yes. I heard Professor Marchbanks talk about it last year."

"She would exactly be one to know perfectly well. But you must know, a wand in its basics, is none other than a piece of wood filled with a magical creature's token, concentrating the power of a mind to a bound beam. If the mind is weak, the wand is useless. Even Muggles can do magic with a wand, _if they believe in themselves and their own willpower_. It might of course never be as great as the energy unleashed by people with the gene that strengthens that specific ability, but it is possible."

"But – if it happens – and if he finds out – you – you mustn't die!", she moaned, tears trickling from her eyes.

"Charming, how much you have grown to care for me since I saved your life.", he gave her a little smile. "But you have to understand, like Lily or Albus, I am prepared. Like Lily, I was always ready to die for our son. If not then, I am now. I already gave him my cloak years ago."

"Your cloak?"

"Mother gave the Potters only one more thing. She said that if she couldn't take care of the boy's safety, at least this would do. She made them promise not to hand it to him until he attended Hogwarts. That is what she told me before I got on the train. Of course I was curious to find out. When seeing mischievous James disappearing beneath a cloak so properly working, I knew the tale was true. Everyone knows people tried to create such cloaks but no one ever managed to get one to fully work. This particular one did – and did it alike after years – and it was passed on from mother to son. Naturally, Albus one day figured out and being him, he confiscated it. I thought he would return it when he was entirely sure, though when I – could finally enter the destroyed house – and found – James – on the floor – I knew that – ", he gasped for breath, "If they had had it, they might have nevertheless still – ", his lips crumpled.

"You don't need to continue."

"He – could have – given it back – but – ", Severus started sobbing again, this time with anger. "Never understood – so obsessed – ", he added quiet.

"But he gave it to Harry then. He gave it to the only descendant – "

" _I_ gave it to Harry. He didn't care for tradition, or rather, _laws_ at all in this case. Wanted to wait. Said that Harry was too young. But I knew that Harry would need the cloak, very much."

"And he did."

"Yes. More than any other child in the row. After that incident with the Troll, I was aware that he was in terrible need of such an object and since it was, as you just said as well, rightfully his, I simply couldn't let it where it was, could I?"

"You _stole_ it from him?"

"By that time I had already learned to become invisible on my own. All I needed to do was entering through a window when he was not in his private rooms and find it. I reckon, by James' death, it must have passed on to his closest, namely me. As if the cloak knew who I was, I could easily summon it. None than the owner can do that. When I touched the cloak, I felt that it was really mine – it was as if the cloak told me I did the right thing – "

"And the letter?"

"Faking his handwriting was the easiest part, believe me.", Severus chuckled. "But of course he found out when he saw Harry sneaking to the room the Mirror of Erised was stored in. Fortunately he didn't blame me, realising that I might indirectly save Harry's life another couple of times this way."

"You did."

"I know. And it was the best I could hope for."

Another long silence fell over the area they sat in, making Hermione understand that he was done, and she just couldn't be so selfish as to press any more information out of him. Nevertheless, one thing bugged her too much.

"I can't believe this. I mean, I do – but that's life, I guess?", she sighed. "Though – _why me_?"

"Because I know I can trust you. Of course I believe that Harry has the right to find out the full truth, but since he mustn't until the Dark Lord is finally dead, there has to be someone trustworthy, knowing the truth, ready to wait until – the proper moment; capable of waiting until the war is over, just in case I don't live long enough to be allowed to tell him personally. Time is limited, Hermione. Use it wisely. As for me, I will spend my remaining time helping my son fulfilling his unfortunate destiny. And you, _you_ should spend your time with your friends, encouraging them to stick together whatever happens. At last, I had to learn very painfully, that great things can never be achieved by a single person alone. We humans aren't designed to solve problems entirely on our own. _Spend your time wisely_."

"I will.", she nodded slowly; approving, but with a sad smirk.

"And for Heaven's sake, concentrate on school again. You can't let Harry beat you at Potion Making, can you?", a little laugh escaped her.

"I feel guilty."

"Why?"

"Grieving over Ron. After all he's still – alive enough to be within reach.", she hoped it wouldn't hurt him much.

"Exactly. He is alive.", he briefly took out a pocket watch. "Now get up before Filch catches us. We should be changing shifts in ten minutes.", he pulled her up from the stairs, putting his arms around her and she knew what was going to happen. "Ready?"

"Yes."

Placing her hands on his collar bones, she was lifted. The cold air of the night felt good. It was like a shower after an exhausting day. She felt as if all the sorrow, all the sadness of the past hours, were washed away by the wind. Wondering whether it was the same to him, she noticed him taking a little detour around the towers until finally stopping in front of a dark window to the Gryffindor common room. He peered in to see whether it was actually empty, opened the window magically and floated in with her, gently landing next to the sofa at the big fireplace.

He already wanted to let go when her expression caught his attention. Wondering what made her lips curl, he raised an eyebrow. A moment later she hung around his neck, holding him tight. A warm smile on his lips, he closed his eyes and returned the gesture, leaning his head against hers. Glassy eyes stared out into the night, until they closed as well, with a sigh. Although he had broken the ice now, it felt much more surreal to her than previously. But maybe she was wrong. She might merely have made some scratches into the surface.

Not long after, but seeming like an eternity for them, they parted, whereby their cheeks met for the tenth of a second. Shortly placing his hand on her other cheek, he gave her a thankful smile and turned to leave.

"Um – S-Severus?", she had noticed something.

"Yes?", he stopped, his back on her.

"Your – your handkerchief – ", she looked down at the crumpled-up white cloth, still in her left hand.

"Keep it."

"You could wash it, you know?", the grunting just slipped her.

"Still. Keep it."

"But that – it – it would – ", she stammered.

"What would it?", he now half turned to Hermione.

"It would – make – _our little chat_ – having happened – ", she considered, eyes questioning.

"Would that be bad?", a barely catchable smile and wink. "If you remembered – "

"To speak to no one.", she added, her expression becoming empty.

"Good night,", he paused, "Miss Granger."

"Goodnight.", with a muted fluttering of his cloak, he flew out into the night. "Professor.", she added, sure he wouldn't hear her anymore.

Taking a deep breath herself, she stepped up to the window and closed it, careful not to do it too noisy. To another's luck however, it was loud enough by her ears to muffle a door being closed upstairs.

~~#~~


	18. Chapter 17 - About Cushions

1120

– Chapter 17 –

 **About Cushions**

Hermione waited at the corner around Slughorn's office, her arms wrapping her upper body. The salmon dress was way too light for standing in an empty moonlit Hogwarts corridor in winter, but she couldn't walk back into the party. She just couldn't. Not as long as McLaggen was still in there. The already difficult escape would have been in vain then.

Shaking heavily, she hated herself. She froze so much, she couldn't even concentrate on her thoughts. It was so cold, her throat was constricted by the tension her body was in, just to create some warmth. So much, she didn't get out a sound when something wide and soft was thrown over her shoulders, covering her from her neck down, way too big for her. It was a black cloak.

Spinning around in shock, it nearly slid off. He had come from behind. Staring up to him, she met with a worried face in half shadow.

"I hope that helps you to think properly so you can tell me what exactly you are doing outside the party in a deserted corridor, when you are only supposed to be either in there or in bed."

"I – I – was – ", she stammered.

"On the run?", he and his Legilimency, Hermione mentally huffed to herself. "There is no need. McLaggen already left.", really. "Don't look at me like that. Of course I have seen you fleeing from him. Why are you inviting someone who disgusts you?"

"It – is complicated."

"Very well,", he shook his head, looking away. "Will you go back to the party?"

"Um – I – don't think, I should. He's – Professor Slughorn is – a bit – "

"Caned?", he raised his left eyebrow, sighing at her.

"Yes.", Hermione moaned.

"Can you recall one moment he wasn't at least _a bit_ drunk?", Severus sighed again. "All right then. Unless you nevertheless wish to go back to his office, you would be well advised to not stand here alone."

"Yes.", she attempted to give him back his cloak. "But I'm not alone, am I."

"Keep that on. I will bring you to your common room."

"What? Oh – thank you."

"Nothing to thank. Thank who has managed to have two weeks of my evenings after the holidays with the word `detention´ written across. If there was a free space, it would have your name on it already. So be thankful and rather come with me, silently.", she gulped.

"One more thing – um – Severus.", she aspirated, checking their surrounding when he turned to walk ahead.

"Yes?", she followed at his left, trying not to step on the massive fabric, not used to wearing high heels.

"Your cloak's a bit big for me."

"Nit-picking, are we?", he snorted.

"Not at all. It's just – it drags and might get dirty from the floor."

"Dirty from the floor? _Dirt_ \- honestly, you nearly died from cold but worry about a little bit of dust on my cloak?", he grunted. "Lovely. As if the school's laundry was closed and I incapable of cleaning such myself either. _Dirty from the floor_. Tz. Like that wouldn't happen every day."

The next word she heard from him was the password in front of the Fat Lady. He then only wished her a good night though and took back on his cloak, leaving her in the common room with her thoughts.

~~#~~

If it hadn't been for Harry being around to wish her a Happy Christmas, she would have thrown a glove at Ron and asphyxiated Lavender. Both of them were snogging carelessly behind Harry's back, right when she was facing him for goodbye. Harry flung his head around at discovery of her expression, eyes staring with fury across his shoulder.

"Damn.", he muttered. "Couldn't they for once – make it at least look more delicate? It's like two slugs in battle!", shaking his head, he turned back to Hermione, finding her quietly laughing to the cobbles.

" _At least_ there's one delightful thing about it. She's going home too. I don't think she'd survive New Year otherwise. I'd likely – "

"You're sure you're not coming with us? You'd have him for yourself,", Harry scratched his neck, like he often did when he brooded about something he knew to be unnecessary to consider; unconsciously, that much she had figured by now.

"Having to listen to him dreaming about her? No, thanks. I like Christmas biscuits. It would be a shame to dump them into the sink right away."

"How true.", she noticed that something about his own words made him ponder, but didn't mean to stab into his privacy all too much. "But you'll be all alone here?", Hermione sighed.

"Maybe – maybe not – who knows. I think I do good to enjoy the castle as long as it still exists.", she gave an askew smile. "Voldemort's known for loving to revamp buildings in a very drastic manner, isn't he?", they couldn't help having a short laugh. "Take care, Harry."

"You too. And – ", he threw a thumb over his shoulder, "Maybe I can make Fred and George torture her out of his bewitched mind.", the way he sad the last two words, froze her for a moment.

"Yeah.", she sighed nevertheless. "They'd have my blessing for torture, in this case. Bye."

"See you."

Harry waved and jumped onto the train shortly before the doors fell shut noisily. With a whistle and a lot of puffing and even louder noise, the steaming scarlet snake left for its journey to London, and Hermione with her thoughts.

The long walk back from Hogsmeade's one-platform train station felt rather relieving. Following the tracks of the carriages which had brought them down, she drifted off deeply into memories and considerations, trying to avoid thinking of Ron and Lavender though. Walking mindlessly up some staircases, past rows and rows and even more rows of portraits, carelessly carrying her lilac woollen scarf, gloves and cap in her right hand and her ochre winter coat partly unbuttoned, she finally came to halt next to an open classroom door, no idea how her feet had brought her exactly up there. A very familiar voice echoed out, sounding utmost delighted. And maybe even – drunk. More than usual.

"Ya can tell me whatever ya like ter, 't will not convince me.", Horace Slughorn sang from inside the Defence classroom. "Tha boy's got talent. Even a great master of ziss subshect like _you_ should be able ter see what a bonny boy he is."

"He might have talents, indeed.", another too familiar voice. "Though I know him enough I can clearly say his talents don't reside in Potion-Making yet, but rather in knowing his ways to sneak across borders.", he huffed.

"Now, now, Severus!", Slughorn laughed. "Don' be so grumpy!", he sad that in a way Hermione could see his round belly bumping up, even though she couldn't get a single glimpse on what was going on in the room from her position; her feet seemed to refuse moving on. "Have a ssip as well?"

"No, thanks. I don't drink alcohol. You should know that perfectly well, like a number of other things."

"One ssip won' kill ya."

"I said, I don't drink."

"I'ss a great vintage, Sev'russ. Ya surely don' want ter miss such a chanse. Soon i'ss gone."

"Again, I – ", he sounded irate now.

"He said he doesn't drink.", suddenly Hermione found herself in the classroom, the two teachers whipping around, looking as surprised as she did about her unconscious move. "Sir.", she added, pulling herself together, since she had no choice as to encounter the situation she had brought herself in unintentionally. "You'd better accept.", due to the black curtains hanging half into the windows this school year, everything was in dim light and gave the situation a gloomy touch.

"Miss Granger!", Slughorn sang. "Not going home?"

"My parents are off to – ", she swallowed, "A safe place. I considered rather not bringing them in danger."

"Bringin' 'em in danger, dear? How could a smart lady like ya bring 'er beloved parents in danger?", he chuckled. "Well, would ya like tryin' ziss peccculiarly fast disssappearin' divinity?", he waved with the silver goblet and almost empty bottle of wine in his hands, still not moving a thou away from the teacher's desk he stood next to. "As ya may have heard, it doesn' kill."

"Apparently not.", murmured Hermione. "Not yet."

"Very well. Iss 'ere anythin' ya need, dear? Or why d'ya happen to step into an empty classroom in which two colleagues 're havin' a private lil chat?"

"I – just happened to.", she watched Severus turn back to the window he stood at, covered in a usual black cloak reaching the floor. "Um – Professor?", his face looked more sallow than usual, lit by the white snow outside, and the half shadow caused by the curtains made his black hair and clothes appear as dark as the darkest night.

"Yess, dear?", Slughorn gargled after having taken another gulp, examining the empty goblet by holding it above his head, upside-down. "A shame.", he whispered, shrugged and refilled it.

"Would you mind if I had a word with you?"

"Sure, sure. Wha'ssit, Miss G-.", he noticed that she still fixated Severus who didn't take his eyes off the snowy school grounds.

"If you excuse, Horace – it seems, Miss Granger refers to me, rather than you."

"Is that so?", his eyes moved between them, but Hermione said nothing on it. "Well, anyway, mind my words, Severus. Tha students 're out. Enjoy some fresh air."

"Why should I?", he mumbled. "You don't either."

"Me? I'm far older than ya. An' as I heard, less immune ter cold weather. Didn' ya live in Romania fer some time?"

"It was Ukraine.", he puffed. "In the south. And Rügen had been more pleasure than what I have to watch you doing with your life.", he added as low as only Hermione could hear him.

"Oho! So ya speak Ukrainian?"

"Not as good as Russian."

"Really? Would ya mind – ", Severus muttered some sentences neither of the others understood, but it was definitely Russian.

"How fasssinatin'. An' would ya translate that?", he beamed.

"Verbatim or circumscribed?", the tension was almost touchable.

"Jus' as ya like."

"Whatever Miss Granger seems wanting to discuss, is quite obviously meant for me and me alone.", he hissed coldly through his teeth, his lips being the only part of his body that moved. "So grab your wondrously fast disappearing death tonic as well as your feet and escort them to your splendour office, please.", Slughorn's smile froze, Hermione blushed. "And keep your hands off Harry. Your thoughts too.", Severus visibly gritted his teeth behind his once more closed lips.

There was this utterly cold feeling again that she had noticed back then when he had threatened Umbridge – as if an invisible Dementor was gliding through the room. Finally getting that he was not to mess with Severus today, Slughorn started pacing towards the door, having another glance at each of them as he did so, as well as right before he left the room. Once out and away, Severus lowered his head and his eyes fell shut, drained. The cold faded away. Carefully, Hermione closed the door, not taking her eyes off him.

"Severus?"

He looked up again, but not at her. Slowly she walked towards him, coming to stand at his left, looking outside as well. Thick untouched snow, freshly fallen overnight, covered the grounds. The sky was of an almost evenly light grey. Still, snow was falling from it. She watched the flakes pass the old window, assembled of handmade glass rhombi.

"I really just happened to walk past the classroom, you know?", she whispered, but he didn't react. "He can be totally annoying. Yes – he means it well – but he – Severus?"

He had turned and walked to the teacher's desk, leaning against it, his hands on the edge of the tabletop and his eyes wandering over the students' desks and benches. Concerned, she went over, stopped in front of him and looked up, a little less than usual since he was leaning rather leisurely. However, he gazed right past her.

"How are you doing it?", Hermione asked softly. "How can you suck the warmth out of a room?", no reaction. "Is that how you scared Harry's aunt away?", he wouldn't answer. "You know, you'd really need some fresh air.", she considered. "You look rather pale.", his eyes zoomed at hers.

More and more, a smile drifted into his whole face, becoming a bright grin. Eyes closed, he tilted his head back, chuckling. Noticing what she had just said, she couldn't help sharing his amusement.

"I think, you just made the joke of the century.", he snickered, opening his eyes again, though still turned to the ceiling. " _Rather pale_. I. Ingenious.", he pinched his eyes with another chuckle, dropping his head to his chest, causing it to be covered with his freshly washed, bushy but shiny hair.

"I – ", Hermione started, squinting her eyes too, her mouth widely open. "You – you know – I – I meant – _more_ pale than naturally.", she laughed and he finally looked at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Um – ", she giggled, "No.", a grin as broad has his had been before, it had transformed to a bemused smirk on her lips. "Not anymore.", in fact, he was flushed like she had never seen him.

Raising his head once again, he looked at her, slowly calming down. Not fully dropping his smile, he lightly bit, licked and sucked his lips without noticing, watching her study his face in thoughts, her own lips vaguely ajar. Then, his smile was gone and a second later he turned his head sadly to the left, breathing in and out deeply, while his eyes moved around slow, not really finding a place to look at.

"You should do that more often.", she whispered. "Though gotten used to your usual mood, it surprises me to see that, but I must say, a smile suits you far better than this bitter or sad expression you normally carry around – or that look of blank hate."

A single chuckle with a quickly coming and going smile. Giving him a short smirk, she turned away and paced back to the window, where she gazed outside. He still looked at some spot between floor and wall, angular to his left.

"He's right.", she panted. "Slughorn, I mean. Almost everyone's gone home. The few who decided to stay, won't leave the castle. I could see it in their faces. They're afraid. Better stay inside, spending time with those of their classmates that didn't leave either.", she considered for a moment, "Get out for a day or a half. Leave these walls. It would do you good. A tree – or a roof – but just don't stay curled up in this huge prison.", his head turned to her, though his eyes wouldn't fully rest on the girl. "What about Hogsmeade?", she spun around. "We could go to Hogsmeade!", it came out fast.

"We?", he breathed.

"What?"

"You – just said – _we_."

"Did – did I?", her eyes gaped open, between being unsure and embarrassed. "Sorry – I – "

"Are you asking me out?"

"I – no – I – ", she moved her free left hand through her curled brown mane.

"Are you _actually_ asking me out?", he chuckled, left eyebrow and corner of his mouth raised; one more chuckle and he directed his look to his clean black shoes, then only his eyes straight across the room.

"Severus – I – ", she muttered, dropping her shoulders.

"All right,", he said in a higher tone.

"What?", she wasn't entirely sure whether he had just said that.

"All right.", he repeated, smiling at her, visibly flattered and raised from the desk.

"You – mean it?", her eyes nearly popped out.

"Don't look at me like you have seen an Inferius,"

"So we – actually go – ", she made an attempt to point at the door, but strangely failed.

"Why not? I mean, I wouldn't know what to do with my day anyway, would I? So yes. We go. Though, just not to Hogsmeade, please."

"Where else then?"

"Hmm. I think, I might know a place."

"Really?"

"Yes.", he nodded with a convinced smile, apparently happy, but it didn't reach his sad eyes. "Are you comfortable with those or would you like to get something more warming?", he lazily pointed at her clothes.

"Um – yes. I'm fine like this.", she answered, waving the pieces in her right hand in the same manner.

Nevertheless, they had just walked downstairs next to each other, without exchanging a single word or look. Both were too deeply in thoughts for noticing the people in the portraits watching them pass by with confused interest. After what felt like hours, they reached the cold Entrance Hall and Severus stopped so Hermione could dress properly. The doors had been opened to let in some fresh air and bits of snow had been blown inside, forming little heaps and waves. Opened as well, the Great Hall was empty and silent. All tables cleaned. Though the floating candles, torches at the walls and the big fireplace were lit so it wouldn't get too cold for lunch.

Severus also took out his notorious pouch and rummaged for something that appeared to be a black woollen scarf and a thicker cloak which he put over the cloak and robe he already wore. After he tucked the pouch back in, he wrapped the scarf around his neck in seemingly trained precision, leaving the parts below a neat knot hanging down over his chest exactly equal in length. Somehow that managed to amuse Hermione, but he decided to ignore her. Catching herself yet a bit disappointed, she followed him through corridors, past the greenhouses and lastly outside.

In silence, he led her through the few gently falling snowflakes, down – to Hagrid's house. But he turned shortly before, towards the woods. Noticing she had stopped walking, he looked back and came to halt with a couple of steps more, half turning to her. It was a part of the forest Harry and she had fled into with Buckbeak. Trying to get her moving on, he held out his left arm. She was glad he had made smaller steps, almost shovelling the snow away so it was easier for her to follow. However, she stumbled over and landed in the white with a snort. Slightly annoyed, she wiped the snow off her face and felt two strong arms pulling her up with ease, then meaning to get the rest off her clothes.

"Thanks.", she sighed, cleaning what he hadn't seen or wanted to.

"Not worth mentioning.", he smirked. "Come on. It will be easier now. There isn't that much snow in the forest."

"Where exactly are we going?"

"You will see soon enough."

Dry, frozen needles, leaves and branches in various shades of browns cracked and crackled beneath their shoes. Every now and then; just not often enough so she wouldn't fall over again; Hermione looked up into the sleeping trees. Hardly any snow was falling through and it was a lot warmer than outside the forest. Everything looked similar. Trees over trees over trees. Yet at one point she thought she had seen something blue shimmer in some distance, before she nearly stumbled over one of the countless roots, and her mind was brutally forced back to the monotony. He however, seemed to know exactly where to go. He brought her down the hill, further and further.

Suddenly the ground was flat and Hermione stumbled again, looking up. Just a few more trees. She could see the lake. As sudden as the hill had ended, they stood under the last conifer. Outside the branches, a bit of snow covered some low brown grass, rocks and roots. The whole lake was frozen and partly covered in snow as well. Everything in front of them was of different shades of bluish grey, light grey, brown, black and of course white. They had a quite broad view on the Black Lake from where they stood.

Hermione had never been so close to the loch in winter. She stepped forward, to his right, like him, letting her eyes wander across the surface, listening to the beat of her own heart, her breath, a soft wind whistling farther away and the falling snow. Every once in a while the ice would make a muffled cracking sound.

"That's just – beautiful!", she whispered astonished, after far more than a minute.

"It is.", he nodded sadly, then turned around.

With big interest, she watched him searching in his black and purple pouch again and couldn't believe her eyes when he got out a large thick rug, different kinds of pillows and cushions and a big blanket, arranging everything in a very comfortable looking manner beneath the tree, on a snow free space, leaning the pillows and cushions against the natural root wall of said tree.

"Honestly? Are you sure you're a man?", she giggled when he had sat down and pulled the blanket over his legs, offering her the place to his left. "Only a woman would have that much hidden in her bag."

"Now don't be so mean.", he smirked, helping her under the blanket.

"What else have you got in there?", he opened the pouch again and pulled out a closed can covered in knitting plus two cups.

"Fancy some tea?", he opened the can, pointed his wand inside and the tea began to steam.

"That – is – not – real.", she laughed. "You can't be serious. You got that in there all the time?"

"It varies."

"Now don't tell me you have biscuits too.", with a broad grin he pulled out a metal box.

"Cinnamon, apple and chocolate.", he winked.

"Dumbledore definitely had some bad influence on you,", she just couldn't believe it was actually secluded Severus Snape sitting next to her, not the very old odd man Albus Dumbledore, but after all he had surprised her often enough before.

"Maybe.", he filled the cups, handed one to her, opened the box with the biscuits and placed everything except his own cup between them.

"Spearmint.", Hermione mumbled, sniffed and took a small sip of the hot tea. "That's a joke.", he couldn't restrain a little self-satisfied smile.

"No. We just happen to have a bit more in common than loving someone we cannot be together with."

Taking it as the truth; since he had returned to staring out at the lake; Hermione felt a bit weird. How could two so very different people have an essential and a rather meaningless thing in common? Well, he apparently liked more than just the taste and smell of spearmint. His office, where glasses with the ugliest content left space, was filled with loads of different books and he had said that he was reading a lot indeed. And he had hunted best marks as a student.

"As for your question, I decided to connect that pouch to all of my cabinets, cupboards, chests, shelves and wardrobe.", her eyes widened. "Unfortunately I still manage to make a mess every now and then. Sorting inside the pouch is horror. I have to handle the chaos in my real surrounding then. One of the things I thought I could get done properly over Christmas."

"So – what is it actually? The magic on the pouch?"

"An Undetectable Extension Charm, now interconnected with various objects meant for storing use."

"That sounds very complicated."

"Maybe. But I can tell you, the spell itself was by far not as challenging as making the connections work."

He already drank the rest of his tea, put the cup back into the cupboard connected to the pouch and slid down, newly arranging the pillow and cushions on his side of the rug. Only his head looking out, he laid flat on his back, crossing his fingers on his stomach beneath the blanket. Holding her cup with both hands, Hermione just looked at him lying next to her, eyes closed and a little, somewhat happy smile on his lips.

His shoulder-length black hair was now spread like a corona. Looking at it from such short distance; like before in the classroom; she noticed he had actually very beautiful hair. It wasn't greasy now at all, but looking silky and soft, yet still a bit bushy, as well as thick and slightly waved. She bet that if he had grown it longer, the waves could really be seen – and guessed it might be standing away as messy as Harry's when cut short. After all she had seen it in sorts and in their fourth year. Harry had been really lazy and not let his hair cut as often as usual, so it had actually flattened out a bit. Now she wondered whether Harry cut his hair himself or, if not, who did it for him.

"Do you cut your hair yourself?", she asked, breaking the calm silence.

"No, the scissors do. Why?", Severus didn't open his eyes.

"Just – ", Hermione needed that pause, " _The scissors do_.", she whispered with a chuckle but continued aloud. "Just wondering. You know, it – um – looks really beautiful recently.", Hermione slightly blushed.

"That is maybe because I decided to wash it more frequently.", there was no change in his emotionless expression, though after some seconds neither could avoid having a giggle. "Do you cut it yourself as well?", if she already had to talk about hair, he would let her be satisfied for his own good.

"Yes. I've been doing that since I was late thirteen.", and there she went, as he had expected. "The first tries went terribly wrong. When I noticed what it looked like from behind, I was totally shocked.", oh the teenage girls' tragedies, he inwardly smiled.

"Using two mirrors is a great help."

"Figured that out by now.", Hermione sighed. "And I'm glad I found something to tame it with. Ginny gave me a tip. You know, unlike her brothers, she would have her mother's messed old-broom-like mane on her head. And such would mine be too."

"Both suits you."

"Um – thank you?", she was not sure what to think of that. "But I rather prefer not to look like a broom. Especially since those don't seem to like me. I suck at flying on a broomstick."

"Just a matter of training."

"Perhaps. But you would also need a talent for it at a certain extent."

"True. Someone should have told James. The only talent on a broom he had was bombarding me with balls when I was about to get the Snitch."

"Wait – you were in the Quidditch team too? I – had no idea – "

"Maybe because that talent of his made us lose all the time? There wasn't a single match against Gryffindor in which he didn't break at least one of my bones. And I was too generous to – I healed them myself, or let Lily do it in worse cases. So mostly, nobody knew unless they heard one cracking. He had a firm hit. No other Hogwarts Chaser was as consistent at using the Quaffle rather for hunting the other teams' players than scoring. Except probably, Marcus Flint. I wonder why he never wanted to be a Beater, actually. But I'm glad, he didn't. Imagine the battlefield."

"Tell me – why is it that guys are so fond of babbling about Quidditch?"

"It has come to my ears that Ginny Weasley does that too."

"She sometimes literally _has_ to be like a guy, considering the many brothers she has. But that's not the point. And she's a player now."

"It is a tense game and a lot of fun to play – if you aren't rivals with your own brother,", he noted.

"Still – it's brutal in some ways."

"So is Wizard Chess. And you don't try to deny having grown a slight favour for both. Even if you don't notice it yourself, I do see your euphoria."

"You wish.", she snapped, finally taking her eyes off his face, now looking across the lake where a couple of crows sat down in the trees at the shore.

"Admit it.", Severus snickered through his nose only.

"No, I won't."

"Say it. `I like Quidditch and Wizard Chess´."

"I will not.", she said, very punctuated.

"Come on.", he grinned.

"I won't say that I like Quidditch and Wizard Chess."

"Ha!", a triumphing laugh. "You said it!"

"I – what?", her head rushed to the right, her eyes widely open on his face again, seeing a broad grin on his mouth and now opened eyes. "That – you loathsome Grindylow!", Hermione moaned, grabbed a cushion and placed it right on his face, then clutching all of her fingers around her nearly empty teacup.

"Detention.", he smiled into the cushion, but sounding serious.

"What?", she gasped.

"You just attacked a teacher with a cushion. One point to Gryffindor for your courage and _detention_ after lunch. You chose the place.", he turned his head to the left so the cushion would fall in between them and he could have a look at her flabbergasted face.

"Second – what?", she raised an eyebrow and drank the last sip of tea. "That's unfair! I want at least a point _off_ for that!"

"All right. One point from Gryffindor for your extraordinary tenacity on trying to keep our picnic secret.", she let out a blow. "More tea?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you like another cup of tea?"

"Oh – no, thanks. Maybe later. What time is it?"

"Are you in a hurry?"

"No. I'm just curious.", he pulled his silver pocket watch from his robe.

"Half past ten."

"Already? Wow. Interesting, how time flies.", she startled with surprise, having caught sight of his hand held up. "What – ?"

"You may give me the cup if you don't want to hold it."

"Oh. Thank you.", and the second cup went back into the cupboard inside the pouch. "Um – is it comfortable? Lying there, I mean?"

"Would I do it if it wasn't?", he winked. "Unless you believe I have become sadomasochistic, now finding great pleasure in torturing my spine,"

Without further ado she crawled under the blanket as well and laid down, gazing up into the branches. It felt strange, lying fully dressed in winter clothing under a blanket, beneath a conifer right at the Black Lake, a day before Christmas and – next to –

"Severus?", calling a teacher – and him of all teachers – by his given name was like a smack with a heavy book in the face at last, telling her that life wasn't just the running- _straight_ -forward-flawlessly-trip she had expected back then on the train when telling Ron to clean his nose.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for showing me this place. It's absolutely beautiful here."

"Thank you for making me do so."

They turned their heads to each other, just to find their view blocked by the dark red cushion. With a quiet giggle, Hermione took it and held it up, eyeing it as dreamingly as Luna Lovegood might have done.

"Magnificent.", now she looked past the cushion, studying the tree with only her eyes moving.

"Yes. How very much you look not like yourself now. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought you'd inhaled a little bit too much love potion."

"What? Hey! I mean the branches! The way they grow – the pattern they form – "

"I know.", he smiled awkwardly. "I just had to point that out. But you are right. Nature is indeed magnificent."

Hermione dropped the cushion behind her back and they did what it had prevented first. Thereby some bundles of hair fell into Severus' face and he immediately wiped it behind his right ear, leaving just the shorter strands to fall onto his nose. She caught herself having to admit that it wasn't only his hair but that he was really not as ugly as he had appeared to be. In fact, she had always found that he was really beautiful at sec– well, it must have been the thousandth look, but still. He wasn't the slimy beast everyone else saw in him. They just didn't dare to study him closer. And she, confessedly, noticed that for what ever reason, he seemed to have become more – handsome, actually, over the past two years.

The innocent looking, thoughtful half smile on his lips at the very moment, made her wish she could read his mind as well.

"You are alone, aren't you?", he asked very quiet, though not whispering yet.

"What do you mean?", she fully turned her body to him.

"In your dormitory. None of the Gryffindor girls in your class is staying here over the Holidays, is that correct?"

"Yes. All of them are gone. There are hardly any Gryffindors left at all, not only from my year. As far as I've noticed, it's the same in the other Houses. Most people want to spend as much time with their families as they can. They fear that they might not have much to go. Even though Dumbledore's still alive, he can only protect Hogwarts, not the people outside."

"What is it like to you? I am usually alone, you see, but you – "

"It feels kind of dull, to be honest. Everything is so quiet – so empty. Yes, it normally is around Christmas, but this time it's a little too quiet. It feels like death is circling the castle and the teachers try to fight it back by scaring it away with shiny decoration.", he nodded.

"Yes, the air seems to be particularly glistening with a golden shimmer now. I wonder whether it is Filius who overtrumped himself for no one or if it is actually the castle, as you say, willing to compensate all the fear among the remaining students – and staff."

"Say, I always asked myself – is there something like – a teachers' bathroom? You know, Prefects have a special one. So I thought – "

"No.", he laughed shortly. "There is no common bathroom for the teachers. But there is a hidden door in every office, leading to each teacher's private rooms, which would be a bedroom and a lavatory."

"Really?", she was slightly amazed.

"Yes.", her astonished face amused him a bit. "The privilege of being a teacher.", he winked. "And of course there is Salazar Slytherin's little paradise. But I probably should not have mentioned.", he chuckled on the sight of her questioning eyes. "He had built himself a nice swimming pool in the Dungeons, including a small waterfall. Albus had discovered it when he had been in his fifth year and it appears, I have been the only one since, who caught him sneaking in."

"Interesting.", she considered. "So – um – about that detention-thing – are _you_ asking me out now?"

"Maybe?"

"Er – "

"You don't need to spend your time with me. I only suggested it, in case you have nothing to do. But if you have – I would actually be a bit grateful. Then I could get rid of my mess even before tomorrow and just – do nothing during the Christmas days – "

"All right. Thinking about it, I do have some work to do."

"Which is?"

"Lately I wasn't really in the mood to keep my things in order either. My trunk is a mess as well and I'm afraid my papers lost their usual chronological sorting. Just yesterday I found an essay from second week Transfiguration between the most recent Arithmancy homework.", she panted.

"Then it is sorting-afternoon, I suppose.", he said, looking back up into the tree.

"I recall, you said your parents met in the fifties?"

"How does that connect to our recent untidiness?"

"It – not at all.", Hermione laughed. "It just popped into my mind."

"Well, yes. Why?"

"When were you born?", that came straight out.

"Does it matter for you?"

"No – it's just – we are friends now, aren't we? I mean – "

"I never said, we are. But if that is what you want – ", he pulled an emotionless face.

"B-but you – said – I could call you – I mean – doesn't that – make us – "

"Forgive me.", he chuckled. "I somehow – like it when you are confused. Surprisingly, I have never seen you more confused than when you are with me. That is – sort of a nice compliment.", now she could have sworn to see a faint pink on his cheeks.

"Don't say I look – cute – when I'm confused.", her eyes widened once more.

"I – no!", he moaned. "I didn't say that at all. Who said that you look – "

"How come you think someone said that to me?"

"You just blushed."

"So did you!"

"I didn't.", he tried to look away without being too suspicious, but terribly failed.

"I've seen it.", she snapped. "And Ron said it. Once. Very – randomly. Probably not knowing he actually said it.", she rolled onto her back, crossing her arms under the blanket. "Certainly not even believing himself.", she muttered. "Or meaning it. Wait – did you just say you take it as a compliment if I get confused by you?"

"It is not easy to confuse you.", he mumbled.

"Maybe that's true. At least it's not the first time I heard that. Second – I wanted to ask you something – oh yes. When were you born?"

"So it _does_ matter to you.", he smirked.

"No – it's only – I know all of my friends' birthdays and you seem to know mine, right? And – "

"Not only a wandering encyclopaedia, spellbook and advice booklet, are you? But also a calendar now?", it was a well known bored tone he spoke in.

"I – oh.", it clicked. "Sorry. You probably don't want to – "

"January ninth.", he said shortly.

"Tell me. But that's alright. You don't need to. You – what?", she noticed.

"January ninth.", Severus repeated, almost singing.

"Oh – okay – thank you – ", she aspirated hesitantly. "That's not far ahead!", she paused for some seconds until it downright shot from her mouth without breathing. "How old will you turn – I mean – what year are you – you know – I always wondered how old you are – I always wanted to know – you know, you seem so young – and – with Harry being your son and all – I wonder even more, because it would – ", she found herself panting heavily through his flat hand.

"Calm down.", he smiled, half worried, half bemused and slowly pulled away his hand to let her breathe. "You don't need to be so embarrassed.", Hermione briefly flushed, noticing that he almost laid on her. "Ninth of January, nineteen sixty.", he whispered gently. "I will turn thirty-seven in two and a half weeks. Lily had been only nineteen years old when she married James and we were twenty when Harry was born. It was war, Hermione. Like now; just as you agreed; people didn't know how much time they would have left and acted right away, living every moment as if it was their last."

He had spoken with his right hand on her left shoulder, looking deeply into her eyes. Then he softly laid his hand on her cheek for just a short moment, turned away and got up. Paralysed, she watched him putting pillow after pillow and cushion after cushion back into his pouch.

His hand had been surprisingly warm. Her fingers were cold, even though she wore gloves. He turned to her, offering his right arm.

"Get up.", he smiled barely visible and with a sad touch. "It is time for lunch."

After taking his hand and being pulled to her feet easily, she continued watching him packing the rest. With a last gaze over the lake, he turned to the forest and started walking, only to stop after some feet, looking back.

"What's it like?"

"What is what like?", the girl gulped heavily.

"To kill.", she gargled; he lowered his head, squinting – was it regret?

"A – can't tell you.", he aspirated, shook his head and looked away along the shore.

"Why not?", Hermione whispered. "You could tell me that you did it but you can't – "

"I cannot tell you what it would be like for you. How do you expect me to know what doing something as horrible as this would cause inside you when you haven't experienced anything similar yet? Hermione – whatever may happen – ", he paused for some seconds, then continued even lower than before, "Try to avoid it as long as you can."

There was a dull silence, draining all the happiness from them. It felt like a hundred greedy Dementors were circling them, ready to suck out their souls with a sick pleasure. Though she could tell from his expression that he wouldn't have minded at all. That made her even more sad than being aware that he had killed many people. It had been war. Soldiers do kill in war. Whether to defend or to obey orders, they do. And mostly nobody remains to ease their pain. Nobody who could say they experienced the same. Comrades wouldn't look their equal friends in the eyes, too scared of waking the memory. No, she didn't know what it was like and looking at him was enough to indeed tell her she was to postpone that experience as far into the future as possible, if not to never.

"Do you come with me?", he asked softly.

Biting her lip once and giving the frozen – _White_ Lake a last glance, she followed him back up to the castle in silence. They reached the yard in the moment the bell rang. It was twelve o'clock and really time for lunch. So he hadn't stood up because of her. He had known exactly how long it would take them to get back. Looking around, she found themselves completely alone.

"I – what was it like – ", were the first words she spoke after their quiet walk.

"What was what like?"

"To – um – to meet him again.", he just raised an eyebrow with confusion. "Your father."

"Oh.", his flat chuckle confused her.

"What's so funny?, Hermione moaned. "He was horrible to you!"

"I told you, didn't I?", Severus said softly. "You shouldn't worry about my personal issues too much."

"But – ", breathing in, he cut her off.

"We'd better enter separated. After all – "

"We are still not supposed to be friends.", nodded Hermione, sadness in her eyes when she felt his thoughts drifting into distance.

"Thank you for wanting to spend your free time with me."

"Not at all.", she slightly blushed again. "It was a pleasure."

Severus gave her another smile and turned to walk towards a side passage under the archway around the yard, leading eventually to the Great Hall. Some snowflakes falling onto her face, she looked up to the clock on the tower. With a sigh, she entered the castle, and walked straight to lunch.

~~#~~


	19. Chapter 18 - Visitor

– Chapter 18 –

 **Visitor**

The hall was almost empty. One look up to the staff table was enough to see Professor McGonagall's definitely not amused face. Slughorn was totally drunk now, singing Christmas carols to cheer up Madam Sprout who, telling from her red nose and eyes, obviously suffered from a bad cold. Though Hermione knew that even Peeves had a far more pleasing singing voice than Slughorn had right now. She pitied all three of them. As for everyone else in the hall, they seemed to be rather entertained. Sitting far away from her housemates, alone, Luna Lovegood seesawed joyfully to Slughorn's – _shrieking_ , eating herbal pasties. Hermione just had to join her. She wouldn't know what to talk about with the other Gryffindors anyway.

"Hey Luna."

"Oh, hello, Hermione.", she looked up, a mix of delight and thoughtfulness in her silvery grey eyes.

"Mind if I sat there?", she pointed on a space of bench to Luna's right.

"No, no.", Luna beamed. "I always enjoy your company. You're a nice person and interesting to talk with."

"So are you."

"Thank you!", Luna beamed even more.

"Why are you sitting alone?", Hermione asked so she would seem to not understand why Luna had practically no friends.

"I wouldn't know what to talk about with the others.", she found her answer most interesting. "Why do you not sit with your housemates?"

"Same as you.", Hermione smirked.

"It seems, we have something in common then."

"Yeah."

"How was your morning? I heard, your parents are away, seeking shelter?"

"Yes. And it was nice, actually.", she helped herself to some chicken and mashed potatoes.

"That is wonderful. Mine was rather boring though. Oh look – there's Professor Snape! He's coming late again. Did you notice, he comes a bit late for meals quite often lately?"

"Um – no? I didn't.", she really hadn't noticed.

"I wonder what keeps him busy."

He had been deeply in thoughts but was torn from those when he heard Slughorn boasting with laughter and starting a new song. Like frozen immediately, he stopped midways to his seat. By that time, McGonagall had visibly moved half a chair away from Slughorn, earning a glance of sympathy from Madam Hooch. The shock on Severus' face abruptly changed to blank anger. Even a Dragon would have fled from his expression. Almost stomping, he walked to his chair.

"Severus!", Slughorn had seen him. "How're ya! Huh? Wha'cha doin'? Why don'cha sit down?

He completely ignored Slughorn. Each of the few heads in the hall were on him, watching him fill his plate with seemingly random bits of food, pour some juice into his goblet, place his cutlery on top of his meal and take everything all the way around the staff table. Not enough, he walked further, passing the Slytherin table alongside the wall and sat down at its very end, closest to the door side corner, not looking at anyone. With a sigh to his plate, he started eating.

"What's he – ?", Slughorn sang to McGonagall who just looked to said corner, with a quite similar expression as Madam Hooch had given her before. "Did I say somethin' wrong? SEVERUS!", he now yelled all across the hall, causing not only the addressed to squint with annoyance.

"For Heaven's sake, Horace!", McGonagall bellowed. "Stop drinking!"

"Why, Minny?", everyone was just waiting to see sparks coming from the elderly woman's nostrils.

"Because you are as sensible as a lunatic horde of Giants to a bird sitting on the ground with a broken wing!", now it was Slughorn who literally froze to the goblet in his hand. "And don't! You! Ever! Call! Me! Like! That! Again! _Ever!_ "

With every word she hissed, she hammered her right index finger into one and the same spot on his chest. There was a humming silence, only broken by her heavy breath. Even Severus stared up to her, his mouth ajar in confusion, a completely forgotten piece of carrot on his fork right in front of it. Slughorn just swallowed, peered at his goblet and carefully put it down, McGonagall's finger still drilling into his chest. When the goblet touched the table and Slughorn let go of it, she gave an angry blow, pulled back her hand and continued eating, though a bit ferocious. As slowly as Slughorn took his eyes off her, all other people went on with what they had done before Severus had entered. Only, a little more quiet. He as well, finally ate his piece of carrot, quite surprised about his colleague's direct outburst.

"She's a very tough woman.", Luna noted, as dreamingly as ever.

"Indeed.", Hermione confirmed with a chuckle.

"But I feel sorry for them."

"Them?"

"Professor Slughorn, because he had only meant it well and Professor Snape, because he doesn't seem to get along with him as well as everyone else does."

"He doesn't get along well with anyone at all, if you haven't noticed.", one of her classmates had heard her and hissed down the table.

"Don't be so mean, Rebecca. I have the impression that he gets along really well with Professor Burbage and Professor Dumbledore."

"Tz.", the other girls turned back off.

"Dumbledore.", Luna thought aloud. "Where is he, by the way? He appears to be very busy as well these days."

"You got a point on that.", Hermione smirked, reaching for some salad.

"He looks dreadful.", Luna had turned her head to Severus. "Someone should really raise his mood. But I wonder – what might cheer him up?"

Yes, what might that be? Now Hermione regretted to have told him she had no time. But how would she then have time for trying to figure out what she could – there it was again. Like always, when she was close to find a solution for a kind of riddle, she felt something like a big, cut up picture repairing itself. A black pouch with purple embroidery – just like the noble robes he had worn for the Yule Ball. A purple dressing gown. Red cushions. That was different. Different from his usual black, which was only broken by the white shirt and occasional silver clasps or buttons. He might just like these colours. Then she remembered how he had handled his – black – woollen scarf. Her eyes fell on Luna's multicoloured knitted skirt. She had an idea. A probably horrible idea. But what else should she do? And Luna could possibly even help. So she asked right away.

"Did you make this skirt yourself?"

"Yes.", Luna smiled. "I am glad you noticed that."

"I am too. It's really beautifully done."

"You think so?", Hermione nodded. "Thank you!", Luna's eyes were shining like stars.

"Have you planned anything for the afternoon?"

"No. I have spent all morning thinking about what I could do."

"Would you mind helping me with a – last minute Christmas present?"

"Really? I would love to!"

"Wonderful!"

"For whom would it be?"

"Well, actually, now that you suggested it,", Hermione lied a bit, "I thought, I could try to cheer up Professor Snape.", she whispered.

"That sounds great.", Luna whispered back, understanding that their talk wasn't meant for anyone to hear. "What will we do?"

"I have an idea. But we'd have to sneak to Hogsmeade. I need to buy some wool."

"Oh. But you cannot just sneak out without being seen these days."

"Don't worry. I know how to. There is a secret tunnel leading right to Honeydukes."

"Exciting.", her eyes widened with interest.

"So – are you in?"

"Of course. Nobody ever asked me to go on such an adventure. Except last year. But you remember that, hopefully. And I wasn't really asked, if I think about it.", she stared across the table into the dancing flames of the huge fireplace. "I actually invited myself to that – but never mind.", her smile returned. "It's not like I wasn't any help at all, was I?"

~~#~~

An hour later they tiptoed through the cellar of the sweet shop. Careful not to be heard or seen, they crept upstairs. Fortunately, Mr Flume just served a mother and her thrilled daughter while his wife was refilling some jars. Without being noticed, they stepped out into the cold air. It had started snowing again, a bit more than in the morning. Not believing what she actually did there and for whom, she headed to the fabric store, Luna on her heels. Having had bought wool for her S.P.E.W. project last year, she knew where to look and thankfully discounted help from the shop owner.

"What are we looking for?", Luna asked.

"Something either purple, violet or dark red, suitable for a scarf.", both took a basket – after all they'd need more than just one ball.

"Oh look at that!", there was a big basket in the middle of the room they stood in. "They have colour changing, sparkling wool!", it really did that, very brightly – and Hermione suddenly felt herself reminded of Dumbledore's hat, two years ago. "But it's expensive. One Galleon per ball.", sadly, she dropped her shoulders. "I wish I could do such a spell."

Hermione was confused. Luna could conjure a full body Patronus, blow away ten Death Eaters at once and make a lion shaped hat roar, but she couldn't make wool change colours and sparkle? Feeling a bit guilty about abusing her for what she wanted to do even though Luna really seemed to enjoy it, Hermione looked into her wallet. Then she went straight over to Luna and put ten of the balls in question into the younger girl's basket, seeing her already big eyes growing much, much bigger.

"You think he will like it better than what you suggested?"

"No. They're for you."

"For me? But – but why?"

"Merry Christmas, Luna.", Hermione smiled honestly.

"Hermione – ", she aspirated, small tears of disbelief emerging. "That is – I cannot – I mean – I – "

"I really like you and you obviously know a wonderful use for it."

"I – do! Thank you so much, Hermione!", she moaned, looking like an oversized, blond Dobby. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome."

"Hermione – that one over there looks beautiful.", she pointed on a purple, slightly shiny wool, before staring back down on her basket, her arm still raised, obviously without her notice.

Hermione went over to examine it. It had almost the same colour as the embroidery on Severus' pouch, she could tell. Wondering whether it was coincidence or if Luna had probably seen the pouch somewhen, she took it off the shelf to get an impression of how it felt on the skin. Although the tag on the shelf claimed it to be alpaca, the wool was very soft and cosy, just as though it was mohair. More than satisfied, she put five balls into her own basket.

"And you could add some stars with that one.", Luna offered her a silvery white, even more shiny one.

"Are you – um – are you sure?", very sceptical she took it, seeing Luna nod.

"Absolutely."

"Hmm. We'll see.", regardless of her doubt, she put it in as well.

~~#~~

After having spent five hours with knitting in the sixth-year Gryffindor girls' dormitory, watched solely by Crookshanks who had stopped by from one of his long walks around the castle for making himself comfortable in one of the armchairs and purring them a song, they went back down to the Great Hall, big smiles on their faces. They had actually managed to finish the scarf, although Luna could convince Hermione to sew in the white stars. The pattern of the scarf was rather simple, though elegant. Not too easy, but easy enough they could knit the two parts together seamlessly. She had wrapped it in shiny black fancy paper and put a piece of parchment with a short explanation inside. A classic Christmas card would have been too much in her opinion. Now she carried the parcel in her big shoulder bag, along with a – Wizard Chess Board she had also bought in Hogsmeade, somehow regretting her stupidity.

Having managed to force Luna to bring her newly gotten freaky wool to her own dormitory, they sat down at the very place they had during lunch. Everyone else was already halfway though dinner. Only two of those who had attended lunch, were missing. Slughorn seemed not willing to mess with McGonagall again – or he might as well had fallen asleep in his office after lunch. The second person was Severus. Of course both could have already finished their meals. Still Hermione was a little worried.

Deciding not to make herself mad, she continued chatting with Luna in the otherwise empty Gryffindor common room after dinner, until they eventually got tired. It really surprised her what a good company that girl could be. Yes, it took a while to get used to her, but other than her dreaminess, she was quite funny, as well as had a talent with words. And some of her odd knowledge could even possibly be based on facts.

Completely exhausted and her throat dry from chatting, she helped herself to a conjured cup of water, alone on her bed, only accompanied by the crackling of the warming oven in the centre of the round dormitory. Hollow emptiness began to fill her, making her unable to fall asleep. For hours, she believed, she just laid there and stared at the canopy before the fire went out. The cold crept up from the floor and bound her to the bed like branches of a Devil's Snare. Icy fingers searched their way across her body, along with a breath of terror.

Hermione startled. Something had hopped onto the bed. Relieved that it was Crookshanks, she granted him some space to her right, where he rolled in. The bit of warmth at her side and the quiet purring felt good. She was not alone anymore. A happy smile on her lips, she drifted away.

Securely in comforting arms, she flew over hills and rivers and towns below she had never seen before. It was barely nightfall and the roofs were glistening in the light of the low sun that occasionally fell through thick clouds, remains of a rainy summer day. She could see the sharp roof of a church and an old big tree coming closer. A little away from it, in an old alley, they touched ground. On his arms, she let him carry her through that alley and towards one of the houses. The sudden feeling of home emerged from a corner in her heart when he passed the garden door and strolled over the path. Up on the first and only high floor, a light burnt in one of the rooms. Everywhere else in the house was dark, but she could see well in the familiar hall as well as the staircase he took. Through a gap, light shone into the corridor. Inside, a woman read from a book.

" _Had left the door undone whilst strolling in the wood, for they suspected harm from none they were, themselves, so good. The little old Dame had entered in_ ,", he gently pushed the door open, making the woman startle as he raised his deep soft voice.

" _And was well pleased to find_ ,", he continued the story when her bright beautiful smile was beaming at them, " _The_ cosy bed, _and that within they held_ life _of such kind_."

"Now don't mess with the story, Sev.", the woman snickered and closed the book she had read to a little boy sitting on her lap who smiled equally broad. "You shouldn't be here anyway. James'll be home in no more than half an hour."

"Oh wha' do I care.", Severus chuckled and Hermione found herself being carried over to a bedside chair, her view very low, but strangely not unusual to her.

"I know you don't.", she kissed the boy on the head when Severus took off his shoes and crawled onto the bed. "Now look who's here, sweetheart."

"Dadda!", the little one opened his chubby arms.

"Oh me goodness!", Severus chuckled and clasped him in his own, falling playfully over onto his back, which made the boy laugh.

"Yes. Don't let your other Dadda hear that,", Lily smirked while Severus held the giggling child up a bit, nuzzling and cuddling him.

"Oh 'e wun'.", said Severus, not taking his eyes off the boy's who shared his mother's. "'E wouldn' be our lil secre' if 'e couldn' keep such, righ'? Yes, tha's righ', Harry. Ye're no' tellin' Uncle James – erm – _Dadda_ James who yer real Dadda is, dun' ye? Ye couldn' 'ur' 'im tha' much, noooo.", Harry giggled on when he was nuzzled again and a thick kiss was placed on his cheek.

"I got news for you.", Severus lowered Harry onto his chest where the baby boy rolled in immediately.

"Yes?"

"Good news."

"Which would be?"

"There's going to be more of us.", whispered Lily, but Severus just raised an eyebrow.

"Tha Order, ye mean?"

"Oh come on. You're not even in yet. Or have you finally had the guts to talk to Albus?"

"I told ye it's no' tha' easy.", Severus mumbled and looked away from her, up at the soft green ceiling. "I go' ter work it ou'. 'E'll kill me otherwise, ye know 'e'll do."

"I'm sure he won't."

"Ye an' yer constan' fidelity. Ye dunno tha' man as well as I do."

"And how I do."

"No. Ye dun' know anythin' 'bou' 'im.", Severus huffed.

"Then I don't. But that's not the point.", Lily grunted. "I was going to tell you that we'll quite probably have something more to celebrate in January."

"Tha' is?", downstairs, a door was opened and closed lively.

"I'm home, honey!"

"Oh crap – ", Lily gasped.

"Ye said 'alf an hour!", Severus moaned and sat up with Harry in his arms.

"Go!", the woman hissed. "Go! Quickly!"

But he didn't need telling twice. He carried the bewildered child back up to her, gave both a kiss and grabbed his shoes. Only a few steps later he had reached the window on the other side of the bed, opened it and hopped onto the sill.

"I love ye – ", he whispered when exhausted feet were dragged upstairs. "Both o' ye."

"I love you too, Sev. Now go! _Go!_ ", Lily hissed in panic and picked up the book again. " _To breakfast might have asked the Dame, and begg'd of her to stay_.", with an exchanged grin, Severus was gone, flying out into fading twilight.

In exactly that moment, the comforting warmth was gone and Hermione opened her eyes into a dark room. She had no clue for how long she had slept, but it had been long enough for a horrible taste to develop in her mouth. In blind flight, she searched for her wand and the cup on her bedside table, tried to sit up and poured some water into the ceramic, drinking it all out in one go. The cup still in hand, she rubbed her eyes and looked around. Crookshanks had gone. Just slowly, her eyes got used to the scarce light and she eventually spotted him on the sill of the window exactly on the other side of the room. His fur shone majestically in the light reflected by the thick snow outside. Hermione dropped the empty cup with a gasp.

He didn't even startle, nor turn. Deeply in thoughts, he sat on the sill as well, gently stroking her cat that had laid down on his lap now. The pale fingers elegantly brushed through the long hair, while his own black curtain veiled his face from her. She couldn't see his mirror image in the window either.

"Since when – are you – here?", Hermione yawned, still dazed.

"A while,", he replied softly.

"And when did it come to your mind that you could just implant a memory of yours in my sleep?"

"Did I? I can't remember, if I should have done so."

"That's not funny."

"I didn't laugh."

"No. But still. What was the news?"

"Which news?"

"The good news Lily had for you before you had to drop Harry and flee from James through the – "

"Bláan,", Severus whispered, "Le do thoil,", quickly Crookshanks hopped off his lap and he slid from the windowsill. "Good night, Hermione.", he added, already at the door and before she could seize any possible chance to stop him, he was gone with the door closed behind.

Frustrated, Hermione let herself sink back into her pillow with a grunt at the canopy. Something heavy pushed down the mattress to her right. Crookshanks had joined her again. For some seconds they just stared into one another's eyes. Then he rolled in like previously and started to purr.

"What did he say to you?", she frowned, but Crookshanks just mewed something she naturally couldn't understand. "Whatever.", Hermione sighed, put the cup and wand back where they belonged and pulled her blankets up to her chin. "Goodnight, Crookshanks.", another miaow. "Thanks."

~~#~~


	20. Chapter 19 - Alpaca, seasoned with cream

– Chapter 19 –

 **Alpaca, seasoned with cream**

Severus didn't turn up for breakfast next morning, which was the twenty-fourth already. Even Luna couldn't help stating her concern.

"Curious, don't you think?", she aspirated when they left the hall to take a little walk up to the Astronomy Tower, but after that moment last night, Hermione didn't actually wonder. "Have you seen Professor Burbage's look? She seems to be worried about Professor Snape as well. One would think that now, after Professor Slughorn has recovered from his drunkenness, Professor Snape must have calmed down. But it looks like he really _is_ busy. I wonder what it is."

"I can remember having heard him saying to Professor McGonagall that he had to sort all his possessions.", Hermione lied.

"Is that so? Hmm. I can understand. Sometimes I have to do that as well. My stuff happens to rearrange itself in a very peculiar way every now and then. If I want to find something, I have to sort everything anew."

"Are you sure it's your things and not – other people messing up your things?"

"Oh, no, no. People do hide some of my clothes once in a while, mostly shoes, but they aren't as rude as to completely rearrange my order.", Hermione wasn't fully convinced, but rather felt sorry for her.

Meanwhile, someone stood on the Astronomy Tower, letting his eyes drift over the snowy landscape. The sky was grey again and snow was falling. In the distance, a Thestral rose from the trees and landed in another part of the forest. Holding his arms tight around his own upper body, he leaned onto the parapet, taking a look down to the grounds. No one was outside. It was too cold. The wind blew some snowflakes into his long black hair, making it and his black cloak sway gently. He shivered. Still deeply in thoughts, he didn't even notice the footsteps approaching from below. Not until –

"It is really cold up here now. But I love the view.", Luna told Hermione.

"I actually don't come up here too often.", the other admitted. "Other than for lessons."

"You should. It's beautiful."

Recognising their voices, he rushed around, seeing the girls coming onto the highest platform and around the movable, three-dimensional celestial map. Both of them froze, noticing him standing there.

"Oh! Good morning, Professor Snape!", Luna sang. "Hermione and I were wondering why you haven't been at breakfast. But now I can understand. I would quit breakfast as well, just for enjoying the view from up here.", she actually meant that, Hermione considered.

He however, only looked at Hermione, turned to black fog and flew off as fast as he could, becoming invisible after some yards so they wouldn't really know where he went.

"Fascinating.", Luna beamed. "I didn't know he can fly like this. It's said to be a lot more difficult than Apparition. But since he can become fully invisible without Death's cloak, it might actually be very easy for him to fly. He has a much stronger mind than I expected."

~~#~~

Slughorn was back for lunch, apparently not knowing what had happened the day before. So he complained every now and then that McGonagall had straight away forbidden the Houseelves to serve anything containing alcohol. Hermione just wondered where Severus had gone, when he suddenly came walking through the Great Hall's main door. Without paying attention to any head turning, he paced right past everyone, directly towards McGonagall. Arriving in front of her, he gave her an envelope.

"That was delivered to the wrong door.", Hermione heard him saying monotonously.

"Severus, m'boy.", Slughorn cheered. "Why don't you sit down and eat with us?"

A snort and he turned on the heels, walking back between the students' tables. She knew that this could end in a disaster, but she felt the need to do at least _something_.

"Coward.", she mumbled, though loud enough to make him stop instantly.

"Pardon?", he turned to her, frowning at the back of her head across the Gryffindor table.

"You understood me quite well, Professor.", Hermione hissed, taking her last spoon full of rice and pushed the plate away, signalling the Houseelves to clear her place.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me, Miss Granger?", he said slowly, like always when he was about to do down a student and just waiting for one more reason.

"Yes, Sir. Plenty. Sure, you might have your reasons, but it's not like you can't trust me, right? After all you said yourself – oh and besides, he used to be your teacher. But now he's your colleague. You cannot tell me that you aren't some sort of coward, being unable to deal with friendly people."

"Mind your tongue.", he hissed. "Or – "

"Or what?", her head flung around, somewhat pretended fury all over her face. "Brave enough to threat students with detention, aren't we?", he was visibly stunned by her courage. "You may – ", she put her hand down her bag, "Take fifty points from Gryffindor, if you can prove that you aren't a coward.", she slammed her new, closed chess board onto the already empty table space in front of her, moans coming from inside as she did so.

"Wizard Chess?", he watched her preparing the board.

"You want war, you can have it.", she panted.

He scarcely noticeable checked the hall. All eyes were on him. Sighing, he easily walked over the benches and tables and sat down opposite to her.

"Fifty points, Granger, if you manage to win.", in no time, everyone gathered around them, completely forgetting about the afters.

"Well, Sir. White moves first.", she smiled mischievous.

"As if I wouldn't know.", his look was totally frightening.

Like paralysed, everybody watched them play. Half an hour later, Hermione almost regretted having called him a coward. With a blood chilling persistence he had slain almost all of her blue pieces. She panicked. Would he really take off fifty points? Other than that, it had been a nicely challenging game. Far more interesting than watching Harry and Ron play.

"That was a brilliant one!", Luna cheered.

"Thank you.", he grumbled, not sounding too pleased – Hermione had given him check only once less than he had given her.

"Knight to E seven.", Hermione sighed, seeing no other way to defend her king against his queen.

"Queen to E seven.", he said, rather bored, looking at his fingernails while Hermione's second knight got smashed off the board with joyful laughter of the few remaining Slytherins. "Check."

"Castle to E seven, if you prefer it this way.", she smirked.

"What?"

His eyes gaped. Had he really not seen that alley?

"You cannot kill my queen!", he moaned.

"As a matter of fact, I can. _Sir_.", her look when she removed the shards of his queen from the board was none other than the grin of a hungry Werewolf. "Check."

"King to D one.", he panted, knowing that it was the only move possible – and his end.

"Second – ", not believing the situation, she stared at the board. "Pawn to E two – ", Hermione aspirated. "Ch-checkmate? Oh my god – checkmate!", she couldn't – she just – "I won! I – killed a king with a pawn!", she whispered, drowned by everyone's applause, only the Slytherins and Severus didn't clap, of course.

"Well, congratulations on your fifty points, Miss Granger.", he murmured. "Your luck is strikingly amazing."

"Luck?", Slughorn chuckled. "That was great talent, Miss Granger presented us with!", he boasted.

But Severus ignored him. Hermione's head followed him, leaving the hall through the main door. She couldn't see in which direction he went, nor could she get up. People were patting her shoulders and back. With a mix of sadness, anger and frustration, she flicked her wand for repairing the chess pieces and packed everything.

"If you excuse me,", she said over the still lasting applause, making it die down, "I just remembered having to sort a very big mess among my papers. Luna, see you at dinner.", somehow she managed to drill her way through the small crowd, out of the hall.

"That was a fantastic game, wasn't it?", Luna said, drawing everybody's attention on her when she noticed that Hermione was heading for the Dungeons.

"Indeed, Miss Lovegood.", Slughorn laughed. "Absolutely fantastic."

"Yes.", agreed Burbage, but Hermione clearly heard dejection in her voice. "I can't recall there's ever been a match he'd lost."

As fast as she could, she ran downstairs, coming to halt in front of Severus' office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked four times. No answer. She waited a few seconds and knocked harder. Still no answer. Curling her lips, she pushed down the handle – locked. Hating herself, she got out her wand and pointed it on the lock.

"Alohomora.", nothing. "Annihilare.", still no sound. "What the – ?", she pushed the handle again, but the door wouldn't open. "Fine, you moron. Dunamis.", same reaction: no reaction. "Now you can't be meaning this, Severus.", Hermione he moaned, whispering. "Aperire Portis.", she hissed unsuccessfully. "Aperire Hoc Ostium.", the door remained locked. "Are you kidding me? I'm already trying to invent spells! Recludam!", fortunately she was still alone. "Why won't you open, you stupid door?", she whimpered, rattling the handle, her wand still pointed at the lock. "Permitte me intrare.", she was close to running out of Latin and wished that Harry's knife hadn't melted in the Department of Mysteries – but even if not, she might not have considered borrowing it beforehand. "Recludam Portis? Oh come on, please – Recludam Ostium?", it finally clicked. "You loathsome cockroach.", she grunted. "You are so going to regret this one day."

Knowing that if he was in there, he would have noticed already that someone wanted to enter, she didn't even bother to move the door quietly. She pushed it open and found the office abandoned – though without the supposed mess. He must have already sorted his things, unlike her. The room was only lit by the gloomy light coming through the water outside the thick window. The ice above and the overcast sky blocked a lot of light. Just to make sure no one might _accidentally_ enter, she pointed her wand on the door.

"Colloportus.", that would do for now, she could try a counter spell according to his madness later.

A secret door, she thought, walking along the shelves. There – a book of cake recipes between history books? That didn't fit at all, did it? Hesitantly she tried to pull, but it got stuck, being half tilted out. There was a rattling and the shelf slowly swung open, revealing a dark room.

"Lumos.", Hermione whispered, holding her wand up high.

No windows. A stone floor like outside, large bookshelves at the walls, another door, a wardrobe, a bed with white bed sheets, pillow and blanket opposite to the secret door and against the wall, a small chest of drawers standing next to its head. An old chandelier was hanging from the – soft blue ceiling. She noticed a moving photo of Lily Potter smiling from the chest of drawers, right beside an old black alarm clock. But one thing drew her attention the most: one of the shelf-free spaces at the wall in front of her. Neat piles of paper on top, stood an old black upright piano. That was totally surprising to her. She had never thought about whether he liked music, and if, what kind of, nor that he could actually play an instrument as well.

"Severus?", she asked. "Are you here?", nothing.

Curious on what more to find, she walked to the dark wooden door and opened it. The bathroom was half as big as the bedroom and lined with white tiles. It contained a white toilet seat, a shower, and a white water basin with a simple, big enough mirror and a little lamp above it. White towels on a bar. Next to the mirror hung a slim white shelf with three boards. Shaving utensils, nail scissor, brush, a little metal box, a glass with a toothbrush and – an obviously impregnated linen tube. Hermione took it and snuffed. Spearmint toothpaste, self-made, apparently. She frowned. He really hadn't pretended to like spearmint. But – she then picked up a glass bottle which contained a kind of thick liquid he must have made himself as well, pulled out the stopper and sniffed again. Apricot shampoo? And another surprise. She wondered if she would ever stop discovering more and more things about him she would have never dared to expect.

"Severus?", she repeated, taking another look around after she had settled the bottle how it had been standing.

Slightly disappointed, she dropped her shoulders, left his private rooms like she had found them and meant to walk out of the office counter clockwise around his desk, when one of her feet sank in a little. There was another rattle and a whole shelf moved forward, then to the side, making her mouth fall open with amazement about what she had just found unintentionally. Behind the shelf was an alcove, containing a small table and more shelves taking in the space. On the table stood a brass gramophone and the hidden shelves were filled with records. The piano in the back chamber had already marvelled her, but seeing this locked away, she knew he wasn't fond of admitting he listened to music at all. Or –

Licking her lips once, she went to the shelves and partly pulled out a random record. John Lee Hooker. The ones around it were by the same musician. There was also Slim Harpo in the near. Further up left, she could find the Beatles, a bit down was Aretha Franklin and very low to the right, Talking Heads, The Walker Brothers, Dionne Warwick and even The Who. He had sorted them alphabetical. She just felt like giving it a try.

"Oh my god.", she aspirated – there was a whole collection of Elvis Presley. "Now I know why you hide that.", she giggled. "It's a treasure!"

Of course she knew she couldn't get them all out, but after examining more records, she was certain that she wouldn't find music of witches or wizards in there. Somehow she felt remorse. No, she thought, he was not going to pay for locking his door so viciously. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto that stone in the floor and the shelf moved back in place. With a ravished smile, she unlocked the front door again. Standing outside, her wand on the lock of the closed door like before, she sighed the only option she could think about.

"Cataracta Ostium.", it clicked. "Recludam Ostium.", she only said to check; it worked. "Cataracta Ostium."

Hoping she would find him there, she went up to the Astronomy Tower. All others must have returned to their common rooms and offices. The only living being she bumped into on her way up, was Mrs Norris, lurking in an empty corridor, mewing as she watched Hermione pass by.

She really never went on the tower except for lessons or exams. But today she had been up twice, for reasons she would have never thought possible.

"Severus?", she called out loud, though only flushing a crow which flew off, complaining about having been disturbed. "Severus – if you're here – ", Hermione moaned.

There was still no answer but the sighing of the wind around the tower. She stepped forward to the parapet and looked down, seeking for any movement on the visible parts of the Black Lake's shore. Not a thing. Nevertheless she turned and hurried down to the Entrance Hall, got on her cap, scarf and gloves and left the castle for Hagrid's. Before she reached the hut, she ran into the woods, praying in her mind she would find the right way.

Faster and faster she hurried down the hill, chess pieces clattering and groaning in her bag. Finally she reached the flat shore, only able to stop herself by running straight into a tree. _The_ tree, as she noticed when she stepped around, panting heavily. But she was alone.

"Severus?", almost crying, she turned her head round. "Severus! Please – if you are here – show yourself!", yet no answer or other reaction. "Please."

Hermione sank to the ground and leant against the wall of roots, crying at last. She had no clue why she cried or for how long. She only knew that by the time she had raised, her whole body was cold and trembling. Angry with herself, she made her way back up to the school.

When she left the forest; wondering how she could have possibly found the right direction back as well; in front of Hagrid's garden, the big bells rang six o'clock. Half chuckling, half crying again, the strange impression that she had reduced her life to living from one meal to another, came to her. Literally shaking it off, she went on, her feet, thighs and lungs aching already.

Completely exhausted, she entered the warm Great Hall. Like always at Christmas Eve, the benches and tables had been moved to the walls and a round table with chairs had been placed in the middle of the hall, big enough for the exact number of people who would be there. And everyone was there. Everyone who had been there since the beginning of the holidays. No more, no l- well, one less. There were two empty chairs, both between Burbage and Luna. That girl was really not as far away with her mind as people believed.

"Miss Granger!", expectantly, Slughorn sang, sitting opposite to the empty chairs. "At last! We thought you wouldn't come, so we started already. Hope, it doesn't bother you."

"Not at all, Sir.", Hermione shrugged and comforted herself to Luna's right.

"By the way, have you happened to run into Severus?", with shock, their meet in the corridor, eight months ago popped into her mind.

"No, Sir. As I said before leaving, I had work to do."

"Outside?", asked Burbage.

"What?"

"You look like you did that work outside.", her look couldn't have been less sceptical and Hermione noticed that she still wore hat, scarf and gloves, which she took off and carefully stuffed into her bag.

"I took a walk afterwards. Needed some fresh air."

"Very well, Miss Granger.", continued Slughorn. "A Happy Christmas to you. Enjoy our little feast.", apparently, McGonagall's ban of alcohol was still active, because – "Though it's a shame. Couldn't we just let them bring us one bottle of wine? For the festive reason?"

"No.", McGonagall replied coldly. "Teachers are supposed to be role models for the students. In my opinion, drinking alcohol whilst celebrating a family feast like Christmas, would give a very bad impression and influence them in a negative way. Not to think of the parents' reactions if they'd get to know."

"My parents are dead, Professor.", said a seventh-year Slytherin. "I wouldn't mind some booze so I could raise my glass on them.", there was a subdued laugh going around.

"Your parents would be more proud if you raised a glass of blueberry juice instead, Mr O'Nelly." McGonagall snapped back and Hermione knew that the only festive thing about the Christmas Dinner would be the decoration in the hall.

"He's not coming, is he?", Luna whispered to Hermione.

"I don't think so.", the latter whispered back. "I haven't seen him. He wasn't in his office or on the tower."

"Have you tried his favourite place at the Black Lake?"

"How d'you – ?"

"I have seen him walking down there sometimes.", Luna explained.

"Oh. But no, he wasn't there either."

"Maybe he was invisible?"

"If he had been, I think he would have shown himself to me."

"You think, hmm?", she tilted her head with a smile like a little know-it-all.

"Quite, yes."

"Strange.", Luna lost her smile and continued eating.

"You'd better take into account who exactly you're talking about there.", Burbage whispered from the corner of her mouth and Hermione pricked up her ears. "Luna's right. If he doesn't want to be found, you won't even find him if your noses are almost touching."

With a sigh, Hermione decided to accept that Burbage was right. It had been too naïve of her to think she would possibly find him. And now she also regretted that she had kept her coat on. Opening the buttons alone wasn't compensating the warmth in the hall.

As assumed, the following conversations had nothing delightful to them and topics were too often pushed aside with an embarrassing silence. Hermione; like Luna; couldn't await desert, though for different reasons.

"How fascinating.", Luna stared at the vanilla and strawberry flummery she had just put onto her plate. "The colours of my flummery form the shape of a Vervain flower."

"Honestly, no one's interested in what your pudding looks like.", groaned a Slytherin girl.

"Miss Gladdisson,", McGonagall warned.

"It really looks like Vervain.", considered Hermione, leaning over to look at the flummery.

"Except Granger.", Gladdisson mumbled.

"Did you by the way know, that Salazar Slytherin liked the Vervain? He didn't like flowers at all, but he was quite fond of this particular one."

"Tz."

Taking her eyes off the flummery, Hermione noticed a big bowl in front of herself. It contained dark chocolate cream, a little spearmint leaf throned on top. Eyes gaping, she put a bit onto her plate and tried it. It tasted amazing! And – like spearmint as well! She slightly blushed, looking out for another bowl like it – and found two more. So it had only been coincidence. Or had it?

After eating half of it, she gave up. Too good, but also too much. The other bowls of it remained barely untouched.

"I think I'll be leaving.", she sighed.

"Already?", Madam Sprout asked, still suffering from her cold.

"Yes. I – I'm a bit tired. Um – would anyone mind if I took that with me just in case I'd want some more?", she pointed at _her_ bowl of cream, getting some bored gestures as answers. "Well, Merry Christmas then, to all of you."

Only those who liked her – or better, those who didn't dislike her, wished back, Slughorn and Luna being loudest. She threw her bag around her shoulder, grabbed the bowl including the spoon in it and left, straight for the Dungeons, where she could finally take off her coat.

The corridor which was lit by blue burning torches, seemed to be endless. After what felt to her like an hour, she finally arrived at the door, swallowing. A glance at the bowl – she gasped. It looked horrible. The leaf was still on top of the part she hadn't touched, but the rest was total chaos. Hastily she knelt down, picked up the spearmint leaf, evened the cream with the spoon, wiped the edges of the bowl clean with a finger which she licked afterwards, placed the leaf in the middle of the surface and stuck the spoon in. Sighing, she raised, adjusted her bag, the coat over her left arm – and her hair. A last look at the bowl on her right hand and she knocked four times.

Somehow she had expected the silence. Stronger knocking, same result as earlier. Frustrated she hammered on the door. Nothing. She let out a groan of anger. Though ruthless, since she had done it already, she opened the door with his wicked new incantation. Like before, the room was lifeless and now stark dark. In the little light of the torches shining in, Hermione went over to his desk, put down the bowl, pulled out the parcel from beneath – simply everything in her large bag and placed it in front, slightly straightening the paper. He would find it, eventually. He definitely would, she – hoped.

Locking the office once more, she went back through the corridor she had come through. Though, right in the middle, she stopped. There was a noise – it – sounded like – water. That was new. Or had she just never noticed it? She pricked up her ears. Yes, it came from her left. Thoughtfully, she examined the blue lit stone wall. There. What was – ? She took a closer look. A little snake, like on the Slytherin banner, was engraved in the corner of one brick. This must be it, she thought. Slytherin's – little paradise. Looking up and down the corridor to check whether she was alone, she only hoped the password wouldn't be tapping the bricks in a precise order or a word in Parseltongue. But there was a voice in her head: ` _Did you by the way know, that Salazar Slytherin liked the_ –

"Vervain.", Hermione pronounced it clearly.

The bricks ironically started to move like those at the entrance to Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron, when one touched them in the right way. The sound of the water grew louder, but the room behind the now stable arch was pitch black. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped in. Suddenly the big, high room lit gloomily and the wall behind her closed. The soft light was white, yet its source undetectable. According to the shadows, it was supposed to be coming from above, but the arched ceiling became darker with height.

The room itself looked like a rectangular cave. Its walls were made of natural dark grey rock and the floor of the same stone plates as the corridors outside, only – dark grey. More flat rocks were placed all around the big pool, which took in almost all of the floor. The stone tile floor around it was only about three and a half feet broad. Grass green plants were hanging from between some rocks on the walls and at the end face of the pool was a very big, high rock. A nice, strong waterfall poured down from its top, filling the pool with clear, warm water. The pool itself, being guessed four yards deep, was lined with little dark green and occasional silver mosaic tiles, making it look like a blue-green night sky. Apart from sitting space at the entrance side of it, the pool was equally deep everywhere.

The room was, in fact, a little paradise. Hermione was in trouble with herself. Should she – ? Or should she not? After thinking for about a minute, she couldn't resist anymore. So she dropped her bag and coat and undressed. Completely naked, she carefully climbed into the pool and sat down. The water reached her collarbones and was as comfortably warm as she had expected.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione.", she said to herself aloud, leaning her head back and looking at the dark ceiling with a broad smile. "And to you as well, Mr Slytherin. You weren't as bad as everyone thinks, lastly."

~~#~~

With a flick of his wand, he entered his office and lightened the fireplace with another. Locking the door sighing, he went to his desk and took off his cloak – which glided to the floor, the moment he noticed the things on his desk. Chocolate cream? And – a parcel? Second one looked soft, like a cushion. And the cream – he picked up the golden bowl and sniffed – dark chocolate and spearmint! Grinding his teeth unsure, he wondered whether – had it been her? Had she actually broken into his office just to – he put down the bowl and went for a plate, as well as three tiny bottles of differently coloured, transparent liquid. Then he made three small heaps of cream on the plate, put two drops of each liquid in a different heap and waited. Nothing happened. Whoever had presented him with the cream, hadn't intended to poison him. So he washed the probes down the sink and put back the supplies.

With a mixed feeling, he picked up the parcel. It was rather light and as soft as he had considered it to be, telling from the shape. He put it back down and carefully tore the black paper. Something woollen. Byzantium. And shiny white – snowflakes? Stars? Something like that. There was a small folded paper on top. Slowly he took and unfolded it, immediately recognising Hermione's handwriting.

 _Dear Severus_

 _All during knitting it, I tried to find words I could write onto this paper, coming to the conclusion that the words I want to say to you are neither many, nor big, but they are coming from the very bottom of my heart._

 _Thank you!_

 _And – Merry Christmas._

 _Yours, Hermione_

 _P.S.: I'm sorry, if you don't like the stars. Luna Lovegood helped me finishing it and insisted on them She thought, they would – cheer you up._

A weary smile slipped him. It had been a very long time since he had gotten a present from anyone but Charity; even Igor had made himself scarce. He put the letter aside and started to pull the scarf up slowly. It was actually very beautifully knitted and no, he didn't bother the stars. Feeling the cosiness and softness of the wool, made him a little teary. Holding the scarf with both hands, he closed his eyes, buried his nose and mouth in it and inhaled. At first with a little hesitation, but when nothing happened, he breathed in deeply.

It smelled like – freshly bought wool. A sort of wool that would not turn his nose into a depot of fireworks that developed a life of its own. Had the choice been hers? Or Luna's? Somehow he feared it was the second option. Not opening his eyes, he raised an eyebrow with a surprised smile though. She had really just made it. But there was also something else to it. Partly, the smell seemed familiar. He opened the upper buttons of his robe and shirt and wrapped the scarf around his neck, knotting it at the front. It was amazingly comfortable to wear and she had even guessed the length right.

Half sitting on his desk, he took the bowl, reading a specific line again: _coming from the very bottom of my heart._

"Thank you too, Hermione."

He ate the first spoon full of cream and shut his eyes with delight. No, he thought after the second spoon. There was a better place to enjoy it..

~~#~~

Dazed, she still had her head tilted back. She had never felt better. Nothing could change her mood right now. After all she didn't really expect Dumbledore to return to school already. Though right when her thoughts fell on the Headmaster, the bricks behind started cluttering.

Her eyes shot open with horror. Splashing water, she rushed around, reached for her wand in her bag, flicked her stuff to the corner and dove down, performing a Bubble-Head Charm. Hoping she wouldn't be seen, she sat down at the bottom of the pool, squeezing herself to the wall of the sitting-pedestal.

The first thing he noticed was that the light was on already. Had he returned? Looking around, he could see no one. But then, in the moment the last brick sat firmly in place, he spotted a heap of clothes in the left door-side corner. Very familiar clothes, actually – and pink underwear he hadn't seen before, of course. Her clothes carelessly hurtled into the corner and no sight of her could mean only one thing.

He went to the messy heap, took off his shoes and put the socks into them. As his shoes were placed evenly, he unbuttoned his robe, folded it carefully and laid it on top of the black pair. That, he did with all of his clothes, one piece after another, forming an exactly straight pile so it wouldn't tilt over and end up like her mess. On the very top, he put his new scarf. Blinking, he threw a last glance at her underwear and slowly went over to the pool, his wand and the bowl in the right hand, placed the bowl at the edge, got in and sat down. Resting his arms on the rocks around the water, he gave the air a stir and golden writing of light appeared in front of him. He then sent the text floating to the ground of the pool.

Hermione pulled the bubble over her eyes so she could see better. A pair of feet was dangling down. Male feet. Of course. Surprisingly – beautiful – male – feet. He had his legs crossed. The shining letters came to rest an arm's length away from her. She read.

 _Dear Hermione._

 _You may sit down there as long as you wish._

 _Nevertheless, I would prefer thanking you personally for your wonderful present._

 _Yours, Severus._

 _P.S.: Nice underwear._

She flushed. Nice – ? What? Looking up, she saw him moving the toes of his left foot – waving to her, four quick times, making the golden ring on one of them glisten. Damn, she thought. Well, at least it wasn't Dumbledore. That made explanations easier. Yet a little upset, she pushed herself back up to the surface, breaking the writing into thousands of glistening, fading sparks, only to find him smiling very satisfied. She wiped her face dry, took a seat to his left, crossed her legs as well and covered her breasts by crossing her arms in front of them, very demonstratively. Slightly upset, she stared straight into his pleased eyes, not willing to say a word. But he broke their silence anyway.

"Thank you.", he whispered softly, just loud enough to be audible over the splashing of the waterfall.

She sighed and calmed a bit, though not moving her arms or legs, wondering how he could be so relaxed. Yes, the water was very relaxing, but –

"You're welcome.", she replied. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't. I only thought I'd better enjoy this absolutely delicious cream with a warm bath. After all, even you thought I'd deserve some luxury for Christmas.", he nodded to his pile of clothes and Hermione saw the scarf on top.

"Sorry about the stars."

"No worries. I like them, really. It is nice of her – wanting to cheer me up,"

"That was how I actually got her to help me. She felt sorry for you, seeing you running away from Slughorn. I – _offered her my help by asking for her help_ , so to say.", he nodded.

"You may send my thanks to her as well."

"Okay."

"How did you discover the password?"

"Luna let slip through that Slytherin was said to have liked Vervain. But I don't think she knows about this room."

"Maybe she does. I bet, like Albus, she had just asked the ghosts."

"The ghosts?"

"Yes. Luna often talks to the ghosts of the castle. She is far more intelligent than you might be willing to believe."

"Yeah. I realised that in the past few days. Once you accept her way of thinking, you can't get around noticing that she knows a load about how things go in detail. Though she doesn't seem to know yet that we have in fact become friends. Besides, where have you been? I was really worried."

"Charming.", he very slightly blushed and avoided her eyes. "But you don't need to worry about me. I was only trying not to run into Horace – and to get a Christmas present for you.", he admitted, blushing more.

"You – got a – ", Hermione was stunned.

"Yes. But I'd better not give it to you in the pool. Once outside the pouch, it might get damaged by the water."

She noticed the shrunken pouch now hanging on a black leather band around his neck, resting on his chest along with a small silver locket on a thin silver chain. On another, a pair of plain, silvery rings. Other than that, she couldn't help seeing now that he was a little muscular. Not much, but just enough to look good, yet normal. Still all in all he could be considered rather thin. And there was some black hair spread over his chest.

"What's in there?", she nodded at the locket.

Severus finally dropped his wand on the floor, took the waterproof locket between his fingers, opening it with ease. He held it above the surface so Hermione could see the two tiny moving photos better. Both were in pale colour and obviously of the same two people, having taken the photos themselves. The right photo showed two children with differently coloured ties of their Hogwarts uniforms, barely to be seen at the bottom. Both were grinning broadly. They must have had taken it during their first year, according to how young they looked. The photo on the lid had been made at a later time. They appeared to be in their early twenties, he looking much younger and less exhausted and she exactly like on photos Hermione had seen in an album Harry had gotten from Hagrid, as well as on the photo beside Severus' bed. On the one in the locket however, was a third happy looking person: a baby child she had also seen on Hagrid's photos and in that strange dream before: Harry.

"They're always with me.", Severus smiled, closed the locket, let it sink onto his chest, slid down, pushed himself off the pedestal then and dove over to the waterfall.

Curling her lips in sadness, she let her arms slip down on her thighs. It was cruel, she thought. He had loved her so deeply. They had a wonderful son. But she was gone. Out of reach. Forcing himself to deny his son so he could protect him – a very gruesome logic. Always swallowing down his feelings – pretending to hate everyone and everything while he was actually a rather cheerful man – what kind of life was that?

She turned her head to their clothes. His pile was neat. Not half an inch out of line. Not supposed to put a toe over the boarder. Flawless. Slippery. Slick. Making no mistake. Having no freedom. A cage. A big cage with a heavy roof, supported by loose, thin bars. Every attempt to reach out could make it collapse and bury him. Everything would have been in vain then; risk the welfare of the only remains of Lily and their love for each other.

But why? Why her? Why did he trust her? How could he think she had possibly enough control of herself to not make his cage collapse? Had he – enough control for both of them?

She turned to the waterfall, seeing him beckoning her with his index finger, catching her attention. Hermione half swam, half dove to him. When she reached the waterfall, he was gone. Curiously, she swam through the clear – shockingly cool – shower, finding him sitting on a rock in the warm water behind, the surface at around his navel. He had placed his hands on the rock to his sides, dangling his legs like a child who sat on a kitchen table, watching their mother baking a cake, only that he looked down on her, studying her as she wiped back her hair. His own was hanging in thick, dripping bundles, the drops causing little circles to form when they hit the water in front of him.

"Wicked magic.", Hermione threw a quick glance back at the waterfall. "What's with that pile?", she then asked. "Does it have to be so – exact? Why do you have your clothes always so – precise? Is it necessary?"

"One would think you were ten years younger.", he snorted. "Well, I don't really like to see my possessions messed up.", she hesitated, then reached for his head and tousled his hair with her right hand, making him laugh. "I said, _my_ possessions. I don't possess my hair. My hair possesses me.", Hermione chuckled a little annoyed – why did he always find something to talk himself out? "As for the piles, you could take those for a nice example – a teacher's pile compared to a student's pile.", she let her hand sink onto his left shoulder.

"No. Rather; taken, you actually need to have it this way; you, relaxed, compared to me, in panic.", she hissed.

"There was no reason for you to panic.", he smiled vaguely. "Even if you had hidden yourself behind here, I would have spotted your clothes and you know that I have seen you naked before. So, why?"

"I expected Dumbledore."

"Oh.", he laughed. "No. He won't return before January. Besides, the only thing he would have cared for, would have been your reason to be here, not your body."

"Sure.", she sighed. "He might be above such things."

"More than you think. A lot more."

"What are you driving at?", Hermione eyeballed his smirk.

"I honestly should _not_ talk about it, but what to lose, considering what I already told you? Still you must swear not to let it – _slip through_. Especially not in front of Harry. He might understand things wrong, if he knew."

"Of course I won't say. What is it?"

"Just in case, _you haven't heard it from me_.", he warned. "Well, Albus is gay.", her response was a shocked face.

"G-gay?", she stammered after what appeared like hours. "But – I always imagined him – having grandchildren, somewhere – ", she though then remembered the fight about who would buy them tampons and suddenly everything he had said to Burbage afterwards – made – sense –

"No, he was never interested in women."

"I really know nothing about the world I used to live in for the past five and a half years.", moaned Hermione.

"Oh you _do_ know a lot about this world. Just not – ", he took her right hand; still having lied on his shoulder; and held it tight, "All private details.", she closed her fingers around his, making both hands rest on his collar bone. "Can you stand?", she nodded. "But not very comfortable with your hand up that high, am I right?"

"It's okay."

He glided down a bit so he was standing on the same part of the rock, leaning back. Then he moved his hand loosely on her wrist, his thumb on the back of her hand and placed his chin on the now empty gape between her thumb and index finger, closing his eyes. Hermione watched his calm breathing for a while, until she laid her left arm around his other shoulder, snuggling her head into his neck, eyes shut as well. She felt his free hand tenderly gliding up her back, stopping at her right shoulder. They were back at where they had been exactly two years ago, only many floors deeper and – wearing _much_ less.

Yet, after what seemed to have been a whole night and day, he suddenly tilted his head against hers, making her startle up in surprise, even though he had done it back then as well. Their wet hair pushed into their faces by this, they could hardly see each other. Without realising what she did, she wiped his hair behind his right ear. Following, he carefully stroked back her wet strands by reaching over her left shoulder from behind, since she still had her arm lying where she had placed it before having leant onto him. Done, he rested his hand on her left cheek, his forehead against hers. Their noses touched. Eyes closed once more, she felt his warm breath on her lips. Then – he let go, took a deep breath, slid off the rock and vanished on the other side of the waterfall.

Slightly fretted again, she hammered her flat hand against the rock, then her fist – and rubbed it in pain, even more angry. Squinting her eyes and dropping her head with disappointment, she heard her own voice in her mind. _What did you expect? What did you actually ex-_ her eyes flung open. There was something soft on her left cheek. A soft pair of lips. A smile – and he was gone once more. She saw him diving away.

"What?", Hermione muttered.

~~#~~


	21. Chapter 20 - Things Unseen

– Chapter 20 –

 **Things Unseen**

Disbelieving, she took a deep breath and dove down, trying to see where he was gone to. His pale skin differed a lot from the dark green tiles and made it rather easy for her to follow him, though he was much stronger and faster. The seconds it took him to get fresh air, were her key. She seized one of his ankles, pulled him down and pushed the unprepared man with his back to the pool wall seen left from the waterfall, which he had wanted to swim along. Her hands ferociously pressed against his chest, her view began to blur more and more, as the lack of breath constricted her throat. Noticing it, he firmly grabbed her wrists and pulled her up with him. Gasping for air, she fell against him, while he tried to hold them above the water, paddling with his legs only.

"What – where – you – thinking?", she coughed and gargled, staring directly into his eyes.

"I just saved your life again, you silly girl! What were _you_ thinking! Did you want to drown yourself?"

"I meant – before!", she panted and leaned her forehead against his, trying to see his eyes without having dried her own.

"Hermione.", he aspirated, closing his lids. "Listen."

"I don't care!", she moaned. "I don't care that you are my tea-"

"I said, _listen!_ ", he hissed, eyes drilling into Hermione's after he had wiped them dry. "It – just – "

"What? It just _what?_ ", but he pushed her off, turned to fog, sprinkling her with water, and rushed up onto the rock, where he sat down, staring at the wall.

"Severus!", she yelled, though he ignored her. "Come back down!", no reaction. "Please!", but the desperate moan was as pointless.

Not knowing what else to do, she climbed out of the pool and went over. Standing in front of the rocks, she looked up. It couldn't be so difficult, could it? Irate enough, she rubbed her hands dry and started climbing. She got up several feet above the ground until she realised it was very easy – not. Her fingers and toes were slippery and insecure. Half a yard more and they started hurting. But she wanted it. She _wanted_ to climb up to him. If that didn't help – what could? She slid off, bruised her knee. Angrier, she tried to ignore the pain and climbed on. Only a bit further, she thought. Not much more. Only a bit – she lost grip again.

The topmost box fell over. With a panicking shriek, she tried to hold herself to it, flinging her arms up wildly. She managed to get on top of it, but the huge, empty wooden box didn't stop tilting. She fell forward as her feet lost ground. For a moment she was completely in the air, the sharp metal fence directly below. Fingers clutched her right arm. Instinctively she seized his wrist. Holding himself on the gutter with the other hand and his shoes digging into the roof tiles, he desperately looked down on her. She, looked down on her own shoes, dangling just a hand broad above the spikes. Then, her head turned up, her shocked green eyes staring into worried dark ones. Gathering all his strength, he pulled her up just enough she could get hold of the gutter as well. Crunching – as fast as they could, they did the best to support one another on the last fathom. Completely exhausted, they rolled over the tiles, panting at each other.

Half angry, half amazed that she had almost managed to reach the top without help, he moved his eyes down to her bleeding knees, but she didn't care about those. She was safe. Closing her brown eyes with relief, she didn't see him taking a flask from his pouch. The cool liquid on her wound made her eyes pop open with a gasp. Drop after drop she saw the flesh and skin renew, leaving only the blood. He tenderly took one hand after the other as well, carefully healing every tiny bruise. Last were her toes. When done, he stored the flask and let himself fall back on his bottom and hands again, just looking at her.

"S-", she started.

"That was very good.", he said calm.

"What?", she aspirated, trying to keep her finally focusing eyes on his rather.

"For your first attempt to climb a rock, it was – incredibly good."

"Oh."

"But next time, try not to be angry. You won't be able to concentrate enough, if you are angry."

"O-okay.", Hermione sighed. "Thank you for the advice – and – for saving my life again.", he just let out a chuckle and stood up, offering her his arm once more.

Her legs were shaking as she stood on the slightly rough rock. He placed his left hand on her right upper arm, shortly stroking her with the thumb. Then he turned to walk over to an oval pond on top of the rock, gently pulling her with him. The water was rushing straight out of the pond. Fascinated, Hermione looked at the magical spring, figuring that it had done what it did, for several centuries. He lightly pushed her a little closer to the edge, now standing a wee bit behind her, when she moved her head forward for a better view at the foot of the waterfall. From up there, it looked even higher. Hermione swallowed.

"It is only twelve feet from your toes to the surface.", he told her.

"It looks like a lot."

"When you jumped down onto that Devil's Snare, it was six more."

"Oh. Well, then I think I should just close my eyes, shouldn't I?", she smirked.

"Or,", Severus said softly, "You could take my hand."

He let go and held up his palm. As she looked at those slim fingers, the whole hand lightly hovering along his breathing, every sound of the water seemed to drift far away. Or was she drifting? Off in her mind? Was she slowly waking from a long dream? But if – she just couldn't let it happen. Not now. Not yet. Not before – she at last laid her hand in it, their fingers crossing and closing, slowly but firm in the end.

The sound of water splashing down into the pool below. It returned to her ears. Far away from her view, that still rested on his fingers hooking to the back of her hand. The dream hadn't ended. She prevented it just before it would have been too late. Swallowing, she looked up at him, into his dark eyes, having never seen them less hollow – at his gentle smile, turning into embarrassed blinking, and he gazed ahead into space, curling the smile off. Shortly lowering his head in thoughts, she watched him take a deep breath before he looked back at her.

"Did you ever jump into water?"

"Only as a child – I – I don't think it was more than just – two feet – "

"Well then, legs together and straight down. Don't forget to take a breath. You can also hold your nose and shut your eyes before you dive in."

"Alright.", Hermione gulped again.

"Ready?"

"Yes.", it was more of a gargle.

"Really?", his smile was back.

"I am.", she nodded.

"On three – one, two, three!"

A squeal escaped her at the self-precipitated loss of ground. Doing what he had told her in time, she felt herself rushing down into the water, holding his hand so tight it almost hurt her own fingers. For a moment it seemed as if everything had slowed down, then she was up at the surface again, throwing her left arm over his shoulder, panting. Paddling with her legs as if there was no tomorrow, she let go of his hand, wiped her eyes dry and looked back up, completely out of sorts.

"Whow!"

"And?", he grinned.

"That – was fun!", she chuckled, still not believing what had happened – and was happening.

"Another try?"

"What?"

"You want do it again?"

"I – um – "

"Don't worry. This time I will support you."

"Um – yeah!", Hermione laughed. "Sure!"

Five jumps later; the last two climbs without getting hurt; she could do nothing but hanging on his back while he swam her over to the entrance side, both then sitting down in front of the golden bowl.

"Thank you.", Hermione panted quietly. "I think I've – had enough – for some months."

"I think so too.", he contorted his face, nodding.

"That was – the most exhausting Christmas Eve – I've had – so far. Combined with – ", Hermione swallowed to be able to speak properly, "The walks you made me have today, before I decided to just drop the parcel, I think I lost at least three pounds and I won't need any of your sleeping potion anymore."

"Don't exaggerate.", he smiled, reaching for the bowl. "Cream?"

"No, thanks. It's yours. And I confess, the bowl was filled to brimming."

"Thought so. They never serve half bowls. Regardless, thank you."

"Well, it's Christmas.", she giggled, tilted her head back and closed her eyes, relaxing, while he continued to eat.

Deeply in thoughts, spoon after spoon wandered down. Every now and then, he would take a look at her. After a while, her breath calmed and her lips parted lightly. An amused smile wandered across his face. She had nodded off. So he just sat next to her and ate the chocolate cream, watching her sleep.

Almost at the bottom of the bowl, he realised that he had to stop before it would be too much. Careful not to make any sound, he placed the vessel behind and slid deeper into the water. Shortly beneath the surface, he dove through the pool, taking a breath every few yards. To the waterfall and back. Over and back again.

He did that a couple of times before she startled up and rubbed her eyes. Her view a little blurred, she tried to find out where he had gone, the moment when he came back another time, noticing that she had woken up. Gently, he sat down to her right again.

"Good morning.", he smiled.

"What?", Hermione yawned.

"It seems, you really _are_ tired."

"Not anymore, I think.", she sighed. "How long was I gone?"

"Only a few minutes. Come."

"Yes. We should really go. It must be late already."

"Hmm. I don't know. Yet, I think, you would still want your present?"

"Oh. Almost forgot about that, sorry."

He had climbed out and helped her following. Then he rummaged for a pair of big white towels and threw one around each of them. Thanking him, she pulled it tight and walked over to her clothes and bag, trying to collect everything, just like he picked up his wand, the bowl, and his clothes. She wondered how he could have lifted them so easily and without letting them slip apart in the slightest. Though she then mentally dismissed it. Taking a peek up and down the corridor, they went to his office, the door opened non-verbally by him.

"How long did it take you to figure out?", he asked after he had lit the fireplace and chandelier and – locked – the door.

"A while?", she giggled, understanding.

"You got some nerve,", his still neat pile including shoes on his left arm, he approached the shelf-door to his private rooms and opened it, giving the chandelier in there an illuminating wave of his hand.

"I thought, you got it in the pouch?"

"I want to give you a Christmas present, not a corrected homework.", he snorted, placing his clothes on the bed and the shoes beside it. "You may sit down, if you wish to.", a nod to the bed and he turned to the chest of drawers, carefully placing his wand and the golden bowl next to Lily's photo.

Curious, she dropped her things on the bed as well, putting her shoes down on the floor by his and sat onto the cosy blanket, both of them still swathed in towels, soaking wet hair dripping onto those. The stone floor was cold and so she slid back, her legs beside her. He on the other hand, sat himself between their clothes and her, crossed his legs and gave her a big dark red parcel with a shimmering dark red ribbon. A chuckle escaped him when she dropped it on the bed, not having expected the weight.

"Oops,", she laughed. "Let me guess – a book?"

"Just open it.", he smiled.

Keeping him in suspense, she first opened the bow and pulled it off. Then she carefully peeled off the paper, trying not to rip it. Finally she had it lying in front of her. A big, thick, heavy book, smelling rather new, in leather binding. One thing made her falter: there was no title. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him, only to find him wrapping himself more properly in the towel, still with a smile.

Hermione opened the book, flipped a blank paper and found the title. Her mouth falling open, she understood why there was no title on the outside.

 _Magika Maxima_

 _An updating encyclopaedia of all spells ever registered_

 _By Owle Bullock_

"That – oh my god!", she gasped. "But that book was banned even before it was released because it's said to contain simply everything, no matter if easy or most difficult magic, light or – exceptionally dark! How did you – ?"

"Read on.", he winked.

"What?", she flipped the mock title and was confronted with a handwritten page.

 _To the aspiring Miss Hermione Jean Granger, of whom I had gotten to hear only the best from her proud teacher Professor Severus Amalius Snape_

 _May it be a guide of grand help during Your remaining education and throughout Your life_

 _Best wishes and Merry Christmas 1996, Owle Rosamund Bullock_

"Severus – ", she only aspirated, at loss of words.

Disbelievingly she skipped the page to magically chose the language and through the reams, finding all spells sorted alphabetical in category, listed after their incantation; pronunciation, a short explanation of their effect and execution below. If necessary, there was also a sketch of the hand movement included. Glazed eyes, she gazed back up at his gentle smile. Closing it, she heaved the heavy book aside and flung her arms around him, nearly knocking him over and the towel slipping off her as she did. With a happy smile, he laid his arms around her, cheek to cheek. Only after some minutes, she slightly let go, leaning her forehead against his, noses touching again.

"Why?", she whispered.

"I may ask the same about the scarf, not? Aren't people who like one another, supposed to make presents?"

"But that – "

"Is no less than merits you."

Falling silent, they just stared into each other's eyes, closer than ever considered possible. The memory of something he had said a year ago echoed in her head. _Believe me, if it wasn't you, I_ would _do it._ He picked up the towel and rewrapped her in it.

"I think, it's time for bed."

Severus gave her a small, but not very convincing smile she could barely see. He then lightly pushed her off and got up. Pulling her towel tight and turning around, she watched him carry his the pile of clothes and shoes to his high wardrobe. It was filled with long robes and cloaks, all of them being black. All but the purple dressing gown she had first seen two years ago. To the left, there was a shelf inside, each separated space containing different clothes: white shirts, black trousers, Oxford blue pyjamas, white underpants, black socks, the black and an old Slytherin uniform scarf he usually wore for Quidditch matches – on which he placed the purple one – and three pairs of elegant black shoes, where he put down the fourth in the only empty space. He then opened the lid of a woven basket below his robes and threw in the used clothes. Taking one of his pyjamas, he slightly turned around, curling his lips.

"Yes?", she asked when he looked away in considerations.

"Do you – ", he started, the thought giving him obvious trouble, and looked back at her. "Do you want to – stay here?", he mumbled, followed by a long pause.

"Um – if – if you don't mind?", she aspirated. "Unless – I mean, I could just dry my hair and get back upstairs – "

He sighed, took another pyjama, closed the wardrobe and carried the clothes over to her, where he laid down one pair in front of her on the bed.

"It might be just a bit too large, but you can adjust the waistband. I am in the bathroom. Knock, if you need something."

"A hairbrush would be wonderful. I forgot to pack mine today.", he raised an eyebrow with a sigh, took his wand, pointed it out to his office and a piece of parchment came soaring in, transforming into a brush before it landed in her hands. "Thank you.", she giggled, staring at his back as he went to the other door.

"You're welcome. It's Christmas.", he said and closed it behind, making her frown.

What kind of odd theatre play was that now? Hermione picked up the pyjamas and put them on, leaving the moist towel on the floor so the bed wouldn't get any more wet. A bit too large? Although he was nowhere near fat, it was as if she wore a pair of dark blue sacks! She made a knot into the cord of the pants so she could wear them without having to hold them all the time. The shirt reached below her bottom, even though he was just one head taller than her. The sleeves covered her hands entirely and the seams of the pants were a little heap on the floor; massive fabric between her legs. With a sigh, she took her wand from her bag, bent over and started to dry her hair.

Recalling the events of the recent days – and then years, she again tried to work him out. What kind of man was he? She still had no clue. There were so many twists – like he himself didn't know what he was actually doing in between pretending to be a bullying whinger. He seemed to be very swamped when he couldn't put on his mask of students'-horror. His robes always buttoned up to his chin, the sleeves reaching his knuckles – and on the other hand he was so obviously comfortable when being naked? That didn't match. Hermione peeked from beneath her hair while brushing it. The photo of Lily smiling at her by the golden bowl. She had been a very beautiful woman. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring – Hermione wondered how it would have been knowing her. How – it was for him, still loving Lily after all those years.

But – there were also these little hints of – what? What did he feel when being together with _her_? She knew what she felt for him. But he? And the try of a translation she had received from Viktor on what Severus had said to her in the Hospital Wing back then – _that is something very personal, I am not sure a teacher should say to their student, but on the other hand I realised British people are different from us_ – couldn't he have been more precise? Just a – little? She had an idea, but –

She threw her massive hair back. Not being prepared with Sleekeazy's wonder tonic at all, it only had half the length and was three times as bushy. Sighing, she folded her clothes and stored them in her bag, putting it down beside the bed. A short glance at the shelf-door, then at the book, at Lily's photograph, the bathroom door, the lit chandelier, the piano and the secret entrance again. It couldn't hurt, could it? She went outside, stepped on the notorious stone tile and approached the shelf with the records. Now what should she – she randomly picked a record. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. It was `Your Funeral..My Trial´. With a slight smirk about the coincidence that her mother used to listen to the theme song when she was sad, Hermione placed the record on the gramophone and put the needle right where she recalled having seen it all the time.

The piano started, just the way she remembered it. Something like tears wanted to urge themselves into her eyes, but she wouldn't let them. It was only a song. It didn't even mean anything to her. When she rested her wand next to the gramophone and turned around, she startled.

"Interesting choice.", Severus whispered softly.

"I – sorry, I – just – ", he approached her, wearing only his pyjamas as well; his now bouffant black hair harmonised far better with his face than when it was hanging down straight, she thought.

"Sh. There is no need to apologise.", he put down his wand on the desk and closed up.

Years. Years had passed – he thought he would feel bad about it – guilty – but he somehow wasn't. Maybe he had been longing for it a little too much. In fact, he had been longing for it for over two years, hating himself for it. Hating himself for his weakness, especially when she was – but – it felt good to be weak sometimes. No, simply wonderful. And just now – he had resisted for too long. She was gone. She wouldn't blame. And, after all, she had done worse. She had – married – and – anyway, this was – only – was it _only_? He didn't care what it was and how much. All he wanted was to drown in that moment. He strangely wanted it to last forever. So did Hermione, running her hand through his warm, soft hair as the moves of their lips intensified, feeling his fingers tenderly digging into her back with yearning.

Spearmint toothpaste. A comforting touch so far from a cruel world. The quiet dance of lips, pleasure like diving into a pool of sacred water. Their breath was one, swaying from one to the other, every second or two being renewed through their noses. Something like a space between them was nonexistent; eliminated by the closeness of their embrace, the thin cotton sending shivers through their bodies, robbing their skin. Severus felt an additional tiny touch to that of her lips on his own. Like a fish trying to catch a fly, the tip of his tongue searched for hers. Finally meeting, the feeling made them both tremble. But they couldn't resist the need. Simultaneously, their lips parted more, to let another pair join in the dance in the cavern between.

The next song started, but it wasn't what stopped them. There was a loud _crack_ from behind, jolting them up at last. Another. Realising it had only been a billet collapsing in the fireplace, they groaned at once, then looked at each other.

"Severus – ", Hermione whispered, moaning, and panting heavily. "I – what are we doing here, actually?"

"What kind of question is this.", he sighed, wiping some curls from her forehead and cheek.

"I – don't know."

"Then why ask."

"But – you hopefully know – that – I – it's not – "

"Not – ", he frowned, "What? What is it not?"

"I guess, we aren't friends anymore now, are we?"

"It was never me who said that we are friends.", a smirk, so gentle she could punch it for him making her feel the way she did. "I won't say I expected you to have realised by now what I feel for you. Well, I did, but I think I also tried my best for about two years to hide it even from myself. I should be the one to apologise for my guilt and restraint when I knew quite early which kind of feelings you have for me, probably before you knew it yourself."

"And that's a good excuse for needing more than a year to tell me again.", aspirated Hermione.

"You couldn't either.", Severus noted. "As much as I would have never believed I could love anyone in nearly the way I love Lily. Though it seems, a heart and soul are far too complex and powerful as to be controlled.", he smiled warmly. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas – Severus."

~~#~~

She woke up to the smell of warm toast, ham, herbal spread, eggs, peach jam and cinnamon tea as well as a tender little kiss and warm breath on her left cheek. Rubbing her eyes, she turned and saw the tray on the bedside chest of drawers and him sitting on a chair next to the bed, already wearing a white shirt and black trousers. The purple scarf bound around his neck cost her a broad smile. His deep, soft, happy voice greeted her in the dim light of the chandelier.

"Good morning, my precious."

"Good morning.", she sighed with a chuckle to his returned smile and held out her left hand, which he took, enclosing it gently.

"How was your night?"

"Could it be any other than wonderful when falling asleep in your arms?", that actually made him blush a bit.

"You definitely _are_ in love with me."

"I suppose so.", Hermione giggled and raised just enough so she could have a better view on the breakfast.

"I hope, that is to your satisfaction?"

"More than.", she laughed.

"Do you want to eat in the bed or outside on my desk?"

"Um – I think, I'd – prefer the desk.", she yawned. "But first I'd need the toilet."

He let go of her hand and took the tray outside while she stumbled to the lit bathroom, robbing her eyes even more. Feeling like she had actually made that long dream last just a little longer, she looked into the mirror at her messed reflection. Her hair was standing off like a lion's mane and the fact that she wore no makeup made her unable to believe he could fancy that face at all. Her skin was uneven and pimples grew randomly all over it. Letting out a grunt, she washed that teenage horror and dried it with the towel he had given her. A quiet shriek escaped her when she looked into the mirror again, finding him smiling from behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her left shoulder.

"Am I such a frightening sight?", he chuckled.

"Idiot.", Hermione mumbled. "Look at yourself and tell me that you aren't beautiful."

"There are far more beautiful men out there."

"As if I cared.", she murmured. "But how could you possibly love that old broom?", he brushed his right hand through her hair and pulled her head close. "Oh. Forgot. You played Quidditch.", that made him laugh heart-warmingly. "Sorry.", she grinned about that laugh that looked so wonderful on him.

"I like your hair in any way you have it."

"If you were me, you wouldn't."

"But I'm not you. And you don't know how frustrating it is, having to wash one's hair every two days because it looks like it was rubbed in lard otherwise."

"You didn't really care in years, now did you? And it's still better than looking like a lion."

"What can I say, you are a real Gryffindor.", he grinned.

"Hey!", she moaned. "I'd rather be in Slytherin then."

"Don't say that.", he lightly shook his head; the smile half vanished, "It is profitable for pretending the convincing image of an evil carnivore, but not all too much for making truly honest friends.", and was gone.

"I hate those pimples.", she sighed, just to change the topic.

"You should ask the Weasley twins. I have come to acknowledge that they managed to brew a very effective cure."

"Really?", she spun in his arms.

"But on the other hand, I just might still have the recipe somewhere among my old homework. _If_ – they only copied it, rather than stealing the piece.", she frowned. "What. I was an ugly mess in my teenage days. I simply _had_ to find a solution. Yours are just pimples. I suffered from horrible acne I couldn't even cure with Bubotuber pus. It only made things worse and in the end it took me three years until I could look at myself even in the slightest."

"So bad?", Hermione moaned.

"I had that stuff on my entire body. So you see, I've been everything James and Sirius were longing for and didn't even need to put any effort into it. Brutally ugly, a total nerd at anything – "

"And strangely having better chances with the girl your brother chased. Yes, that must have driven him mad."

"Indeed. There is written proof of that time. A lot of it. I think, we'd spent more evenings in detention than with doing homework. As for me, of course. I did it during lessons."

"Yeah. You said that. And nevertheless you beat him in classes?"

"Nevertheless I had found time for ten times as much extra work as he had.", Severus sighed. "Not that he would have wanted to, of course. He'd inherited a bit more of our father's laziness."

"Now don't tell me, you're lazy.", she giggled.

"I could have done far more with my spare time if I hadn't been."

"Anyway,", by the look he gave her, Hermione knew that this was an ultimate thing to take the way he presented it to her. "Um – could you please go looking for the recipe of – whatever you used? I hate putting on so much makeup every day."

"Of course. Though,", his eyes flicked to the left upper corner, "If I concentrate enough, I might also be able to brew it from memory. After all, I needed a lot of it then – and much, much more. A misery, they adorn themselves with borrowed plumes. But who would have bought it from me anyway – ", he sighed to himself, his considerations interrupted by a kiss.

"All young witches around the world?", Hermione giggled, her hands on his cheeks.

"I though look beyond those little dots."

"That doesn't make them disappear,"

"For me it does. And I like your face, no matter with or without pimples. But if it makes you so happy that you kiss me like that more often, I will do my best to recover the recipe.", now it was him who started their kissing.

"Thank you.", she whispered after about a minute.

"Come. Breakfast is getting cold.", she gave him a look that happened unconsciously, but he interpreted it right. "Yes, I sent them some Sickles with the order.", he added with a snort.

~~#~~

"We could just go up invisible,", Hermione whispered, peeking out through the door to the Entrance Hall.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to become invisible?", Severus hissed back.

They had spent all time until lunch in his rooms, talking, playing piano, kissing and – now they tried to get back up so it wouldn't look too suspicious.

"No. Of course not."

"Then don't speak like you did. It is even more complicated to make another person invisible as well."

"But you can, can't you?"

"Merry Christmas, Hermione, Professor Snape."

Both jumped. Luna had come from the marble staircase and heard them talking. So she had just thought it to be nice to look down over the banister and greet them. In shock, they raised their heads.

"We've been missing you at breakfast."

"We?", Severus frowned.

"It is a saying, isn't it? I don't know about the others, but I have been missing you and so might have Professors Burbage and McGonagall. And Professor Slughorn, if I think about it. So yes, at least four people noticed your absence. But it's okay. I haven't seen you. So there's no need to hide. Everyone's at lunch already anyway. I just turned and walked up to the Gryffindor Tower to see whether you're fine, Hermione, and when I didn't find you in your dormitory, I knew you would come somewhen anyway. I see, Professor, you like the scarf?", he still wore it, though loosely and he had also put on a usual robe and cloak over the shirt.

"Yes.", he sighed. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood."

"I think,", Hermione turned to him, whispering, "I should just go with her. It's even less suspicious then."

"All right.", he nodded.

"Oh my – ", Hermione gasped, slapping a hand on her mouth. "I forgot the book!"

"I will take it up for you. It is much easier for me to carry it."

"Okay. Thank you. Um – roots or paradise?"

"Stone Circle.", he mumbled serious and Hermione nodded, inwardly excited. "Miss Lovegood?", he addressed her a little louder, looking back up.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Thank you for your secrecy."

"Secrecy is, like everything, only a matter of the point of view.", Luna smiled.

With a last look at Hermione, he melted with the air, leaving her alone with Luna and that statement.

"Shall we, Hermione?"

"Sure."

They met at the foot of the stairs and went to the Great Hall together, sitting down on the Ravenclaw table. Minerva McGonagall wore a golden glittering high red tartan hat and looked far more relaxed and joyful than on the evening before. Slughorn, in his usual old looking robes of green, had decorated a buttonhole with a holly twig and was as amused as he would have been when drunk. It seemed, the withdrawal didn't hurt him anymore. Madam Sprout's nose was still red though and her eyes teary. Professor Trelawney studied her own reflection in the back of a spoon. Just when Hermione had filled her plate, the backdoor swung open and Severus came in, the ends of the scarf bumping as much as his bouffant hair with every step. Though his expression was far from lively. It was grumpiness in person again. Still Hermione noticed the faint smile he threw at her when their eyes met.

Looking straight on his destination then, he walked to his chair, between Burbage; who had twirled up the long cut side of her hair and stuck it in place with shimmering pencils; and Slughorn, to his own disgust. As soon as he sat, he had to duck away from a wide swinging arm. Slughorn was telling Sprout something assumingly very interesting and had given her some kind of size example.

"Horace!", she gasped, nearly choking and held a hand on her mouth.

"What? Oh!", he had turned his head and seen that the place wasn't empty anymore. "Hello, Severus! Dinn' notice you were here already! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas.", he mumbled in return, though he couldn't fully hide a smile on Burbage's grinning snort.

"What's that?", Slughorn chuckled. "Was that a smile? Blimey! And – oho! That scarf – have you finally found some Christmas spirit, ay?"

"Maybe. We will see.", he gave a very annoyed sigh and put some noodles with spinach onto his plate.

"Whatever. You gotta listen to that too. I just told Pomona something I recalled. Maybe you remember too. There was this – "

With the last words he calmed down and Hermione didn't bother listening anymore. She had asked Severus to give him a little chance and it looked just like he had decided to at least not run away this time. Probably it was due to his friend having forced him to sit next to him. Every once in a while he though would throw a warning look at Hermione when he found her gazing at him for too long.

"You shouldn't look up too often, you know?", Luna said rather quiet. "After all he is an adult and I think capable enough to deal with Professor Slughorn. It's wonderful that you seem to have become friends now, but you shouldn't let it drift through. Other people might not be so comfortable with the thought and it doesn't appear to me that he wants everyone to know just yet.", she got a right point on that, Hermione thought.

"Thanks, Luna. Yes. I think I should really try to control myself."

"I have started to work with the wool, by the way."

"Really? What will you make?"

"The first thing will be a new pair of socks. Mine tend to have holes from having to walk around without shoes and this wool is very special. It can only be torn magically. And afterwards I will make a skirt. If I have enough left, I will try on a hat. I don't have many hats and I thought it would be nice to have one made of this wool."

~~#~~

Heedlessly picking at his stewed pumpkin pieces and his head resting in his left palm, he read the _Prophet_. It couldn't have been more obvious that he actually wasn't interested in what he would read there. Merely three students were left in the hall. Even Luna and Hermione had gone. The only teacher apart from him and of course Charity, was Minerva, sitting to his right, the empty Headmaster chair between them. He didn't know what he was waiting for. After all he had told Hermione to await him at the Runestones on the outside end of the Wooden Bridge. He had nearly eaten up when –

"You have been missing quite a number of meals, Severus.", he turned his head to her, raising an eyebrow and ate the second last spoonful of pumpkin and juice.

"Why does that matter?"

"Well, I am curious, you see?"

"You almost sounded like Luna Lovegood now.", he huffed, emptied the bowl and switched the supporting hand, looking down on the newspaper again.

"Are you still trying to run away from Horace?"

"I'm not running away from anyone.", he said flatly.

"Sure. Not for this lunch. But what about breakfast? And – yesterday?"

"I am busy, that is all.", a page was flipped without being touched.

"Busy? It's Christmas! What might keep you busy at Christmas!"

"Let him be busy.", said Charity, earning herself a little grateful smile she could just see as the minimal movement pushed up his cheek and therefore also affected his hand.

"That was not meant for you, Charity. Answer me, Severus."

"You really know the art of asking questions.", Severus sighed. "Like the wisest child ever."

"I am serious. If there is anything you would like to tell – "

"But there isn't anything.", he said languidly; the last three students left the hall as well.

"Severus, don't try to fool me. I can see that there is something. Horace was right. Who gave you this scarf?"

"What has my scarf to do with the things I am busy with?", he turned his head to her in his still hand, resulting in his mouth being covered by his bent fingers.

"Well, it is very much differing from your favour of clothes, isn't it? Upper buttons opened? And – is this a lavallière?", she snickered, having spotted the black cloth bound around his neck and tucked into his robe.

"And?", he murmured.

"Don't take me for a mug, Severus.", she gave him the same bored look. "Is there a woman in your life?"

"Why should there be – ", he hissed in disbelief, narrowing his eyes; Charity could barely hide her amused snort with coughing.

"Severus.", Minerva smiled knowingly, eyeing the other woman though. "Something is obviously changing you. You have never been so relaxed since your later school years. I can see it in the way you move. Are you in love, all of a sudden?"

"I am not!", he moaned, lowering his hand. "You act like a teenage girl interrogating her roommate!"

"Also I have noticed,", Minerva ignored his dispute, "An increasing tendency of washing your hair more frequently over the past two years. So, is there a woman – "

"There is.", Severus grunted. "And she appears to have made me subject of one of her long-term studies."

"Don't be so mean. So?"

"If you are trying to imply that whatever changes you claim to have noticed have anything to do with The Drama Queen,"

"Igor Karkaroff?", she immediately understood, yet was confused. "But he's dead!"

"Karkaroff is. Igor, I'm not so sure. I too have noticed a peculiar increasing frequency, yet of postcards from China. _So_ , unless you wish to end up there,"

"Never mind.", she sighed, with a bright smile again. "It is your life. I am just saying."

"Fine!", he barked, stood up and stomped out through the backdoor.

"Haven't you learned a thing in all those years?", he could hear Charity's voice behind.

Was he really giving himself away? But she wasn't doing her best to hide it either, did she? With a steady pace, he stormed through the backside corridor, past the staircase to the Trophy Room and out into the main courtyard – discovering the last he would have needed. It had started snowing heavily. A frustrated groan escaped him. He rummaged for his winter cloak, threw it over. After having made a well-proportioned knot into his new purple scarf, he rushed across the yard and back through the open oaken gates. If it hadn't been for the weather, he would have flown. Not even caring to push back his hood, he hurried through the castle, on the shortest way to the Clock Tower Courtyard, not noticing the cat that followed him. A bit faster, he crossed the Wooden Bridge and ran down the few stone steps.

Wearing her black hooded uniform cloak over her winter coat and brown cap, she stood between the stones and looked down to Hagrid's hut, alone. She had wrapped a scarf around her mouth and nose as well. The change of weather had made the air too cold for breathing comfortably while having to wait. Crunching snow, footsteps slowing down. She didn't even have time to turn; he had already flung his arms around her, leaning his head to her right cheek from behind with a smile.

"What is this?", she giggled, muffled by the scarf and he slightly turned her to the side, gently pulling down the wool.

"Now what would it be?", he softly tapped her nose and kissed her, in an almost dark cavern formed by their hoods. "Change of plan due to the weather, precious.", he pulled her scarf back up. "We go further south."

"Now you can?", she hissed through the brown wool when she found themselves becoming airy grey shades.

"I said, it is complicated, not impossible. Come. I'll bring you out of the barrier. From there we Apparate."

Sitting on the stairs, the cat watched their footprints move downhill and out of sight. She had no idea who that woman was, but it wasn't necessary to know. It was proof enough that she had been right. With a little self-satisfied smile, she slinked back into the castle, shaking off the snow below the Clock Tower before she transformed.

~~#~~


	22. Chapter 21 - The lightning struck tower

– Chapter 21 –

 **The lightning struck tower**

The following days were days of approval. The approval of a stupid thought Hermione had had – that she had come to live from one meal to another. But she wanted to spend as much time with Severus as possible and for not drawing too much attention on them, they would usually return to the Great Hall for eating. Somehow she felt sorry for Luna, but the girl ensured her to be fine. So the end of the year came and Hermione saw herself confronted with the self-imposed task to plan his birthday. Unfortunately it would be a Thursday, but they would have the evening. Though she had no idea at all what she could do.

It had been a wonderful Hogmanay Feast and everyone had eaten more than their stomachs could bear. Even Severus had taken in the seat that had remained empty on Christmas Eve, though he had done well to hold back every possible hint of a smile and talked to Burbage rather, about things she still didn't know what they had actually been talking about, but they apparently hadn't had any problems during their coded conversations of insider knowledge. Worse, whenever it had gotten more detailed, they had drifted into Russian, or, when they allowed McGonagall to join in, Scottish Gaelic. Yet Burbage was far more comfortable with Russian. Hermione had noticed that Severus had corrected her several times.

Before the first ones could leave, McGonagall cleared her throat for the mass.

"Not so quick, you two.", she said to a pair of Hufflepuff girls. "This evening isn't over yet. As a reward for his perseverance, I have granted our dear Professor Slughorn a little relief. I invite all of you to meet five minutes to midnight, up on the Astronomy Tower, so we can raise a glass on a hopefully good new year."

"I'm allowed to enjoy again?", Slughorn chuckled.

"To the extent of tonight's goodnight-sip, yes.", she smiled. "Well then, everyone who wants to join us, you have an hour to find your warmest clothes. Off you go, now."

Everybody raised one after another and left the hall, continuing their chatting within pairs or trios like before McGonagall had ended the dinner. She gave the round table and chairs a wave of her wand and with a clunk, a mass of silver spoons fell to the floor, which she then summoned non-verbally and put into a pocket of her green robe. Last she flicked her wand another time and the house tables and benches as well as usual staff table and chairs slid back into their position. A fascinated glow in her eyes, Luna watched her with the biggest joy of all that were still in the hall. The rest of those `all´ were Hermione, Severus, Burbage and Slughorn.

"It is amazing to watch you doing this, Professor.", she beamed.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood.", the teacher slightly blushed.

"Are those always the same spoons you use or does it not matter which?"

"They are always the same ones, but in fact, it doesn't matter. I could as likely take a handful of stones. You excuse me, I need to have a word with the kitchen service."

With a thankful smile, she left through the gilded doors. Luna noticed that Slughorn fixated Severus who just stared randomly at the ceiling, with a sad and thoughtful expression. Hermione; wearing her coat already; curled her lips, not knowing what to look at.

"Professor Slughorn?", Luna made him startle.

"Um – yes, Miss?"

"Would you mind coming with me? I want to show you something, Sir."

"Sure, sure.", he sang hollow and followed her outside, not with a last wondering glance back at the two.

"See you later,", Burbage smiled and left as well, even though she got no reply.

Hermione's head rushed at the huge doors, closing gentle when Burbage's footsteps were out of earshot. All sound that remained was the crackling of the fire in the big chimney and their breath in the gigantic hall. She could feel her heart pounding heavily, but didn't really hear it. The Christmas decoration was still on and the trees and torches glistened in the light of the floating candles, the fireplace's and their own. It was a cold and starry night. The stars were shimmering fairylike on the bewitched ceiling, like they did outside the high windows. A bit of moonlight fell in, but the decrescent moon couldn't be seen.

She slowly approached him and took his hands, causing him to look down on her at last, though without a change in his expression. Giving him a scarce smile, she huddled against his chest. For several minutes they only stood there, holding hands, Hermione's eyes closed and Severus' at the fire in the distance, not really apperceiving it. Then unexpectedly, he pulled his hands from hers and laid his arms around her back, finally shutting his eyes when she embraced him too.

"Are you going to wear the scarf every day now?", Hermione whispered.

"Should I?"

"Um – I don't know – it's on you – "

"Indeed, it is, although you are additionally pressing it to me."

"Tz. Ha, ha. I mean – "

"Why wondering? I am an adult male and I can dress the way I like to, don't you think?"

"I – ", she broke off with a snort.

He placed a soft kiss on her hair and started to sway a little. Her smile growing bigger, she let herself be pulled with him, more and more, turning a little, their feet starting to move. After a few moments, he lifted her a bit and spun around with her. Laughing, Hermione let him do. He dropped her, slid back and took her hands again, a warm smile on his lips. Then he turned her once and pulled her close, their arms crossed in front of Hermione's stomach. Swaying on, he buried his cheek on her head, letting her lean back to his chest. Eyes closed once more, they slowed down. Before stopping, he turned her another time, moving her arms up to his shoulders. Closing the space between them, she took a last swaying step forward and they came to halt, lips meeting lips. Hermione's arms slid over his shoulders and his around her back.

They were not aware of how much time passed. In fact, they didn't care. Nothing could disturb their happiness. No thoughts or memories, nothing. It was just them in the present moments. Nothing else counted – until the distant ringing of a bell, telling them how long they had had the hall for themselves. Quarter to midnight. Their lips parted for the last time there. Hermione let her hands glide through his hair to his cheeks, then further down on his chest. Reaching his stomach, she grabbed the ends of the purple scarf and started walking backwards, in direction of the main door. The free space between them widened, but he didn't take his hands off her hips before they reached her dropped bag. Severus gave the strap a little wave of his left hand, lifted it and easily swung it onto his shoulder. After that, he opened the big wings of the door with the power of his mind, just like he had closed the entrance. Both smiling, Hermione took his right hand and turned to run for the marble staircase, pulling him with her.

One score before they arrived at the door to the outer stairs up to the platforms of the tower, they stopped and put on the rest of their winter clothes and Hermione finally hung her bag over her own shoulder. Either the others were on the tower already, or they had been lucky enough to be the first. The only movements in the castle had been the portraits they had passed. Seeing it as the last chance for a while, Severus gave her another tender kiss and they entered the tower, almost knocked out by the change of temperature. But it felt good on their faces, heated from running upstairs. Voices came from the top platform. A little more careful, the couple climbed the highest steps and went around the planetary model.

Half of the platform was crowded. Many people stood close around an oven that had been brought up, much resembling those in the dormitories. Each of them held a crystal glass in their hands, some filled with orange juice, some with wine. McGonagall, being a mass of green, balanced a silver tray on her hands, carrying three glasses. One of the glasses was her own.

"Oho! Miss Granger!", Slughorn had spotted them, waving cheerfully and making all heads turn on the two. "I see, you managed to succeed where most of us would fail! Wonderful! Come here and take your glasses. Both of you."

"Um – Professor – ", Hermione noticed when looking at the tray, "There is only wine left."

"Now you won't die, Miss Granger.", she smiled but her smile froze immediately. "Oh! I am sorry, Severus. I completely forgot."

"Doesn't matter.", he sighed and moved his flat hand over the two glasses, their content turning into orange juice. "After all you used to be my teacher, long ago.", he gave his best try of a faint, bleakly smile.

"What a compliment.", her own smile returned and she picked her glass, letting the tray vanish. "Very well. Now that we all are here – what time is it actually?"

"Seven to midnight.", Severus mumbled.

"Thank you – oh – how do you – ?", she frowned when she realised that he hadn't taken out a watch at all.

"I know how long it takes me to get up here from the basement."

"All right. Well, since we all are here, it think someone should hold a speech.", Madam Sprout took in the most space around the oven and didn't look like she fancied an allocution. "I am Deputy Headmistress, but if anyone has more will to do it, don't hesitate."

"Don't be so shy, Minerva.", Slughorn chuckled. "Though if you really don't want, I can do the part.", oh yes, he loved to hold speeches. "Nineteen sixty-nine. What a year – and I think all of you agree.", the agreement kept within limits, especially as they noticed the mistake he didn't, exchanging worried looks upon it and Hermione could catch Burbage and Severus whispering behind her, though she couldn't understand a word. "And even in regard of the present dangers out there, it seems we all are still alive. And as you see, we made the best of our situation, didn't we?", the dull chuckle caused more confused grimaces among some students, who thought it to be better to stare across the oven, rather than at Slughorn. "We continued doing what we had to do and here we are, standing on a windy tower, waiting for the bell to r-"

"No, we didn't.", Hermione interrupted him shamelessly.

"Pardon, Miss Granger?"

"We didn't carry on like before.", now all eyes were on her and she could clearly hear Severus stiffening, probably crossing his arms. "None of us did.", she continued regardless. "Yes, we still chase after good marks and teachers still do their best to prepare us, but nothing is the same. Since one and a half years, things have changed drastically, and I think with this I can speak for everyone, each of us has felt it."

The silence was deafening and Slughorn's eyes drilled into hers, more than any of the others'. In a short glimpse she could spot that Severus had indeed his arms crossed. However, from below, Burbage had hooked her left arm in. Hermione swallowed down a smile and turned fully to the gathering.

"We have come to witness horrible things and it would be a crime to pretend there isn't far worse ahead.", somehow she had the feeling that Severus did actually have some sort of silent secret conversation behind her, but she didn't dare to turn back and focused on her own words instead. "That is life. Life isn't a running-straight-forward-flawlessly-trip. Especially not in the present days. War is out there and it's only a matter of little time until it affects us all. I've heard from several people who used to fight against Voldemort,", many eyes widened, and some people winced.

"Don't – ", another girl started.

"Say his name? Well, he won't care, would he? If he decides to kill someone – I have heard from people who _gave their life_ for the welfare of the ones they loved; and such who are still ready to do so; in the war against him, that things are going just like they had back then before he had failed because of the love of Harry Potter's mother.", she noticed a faint sigh from behind her, but nevertheless continued, although with a slight moan. "We are in war again and we might quite likely not survive, if we don't stand together. Life – isn't _rosy_ , but we can benefit from any tiny bit of beauty if we are willing to let the seeds of hope and faith grow. The more we accept each other, the stronger we will be as a number, and the bigger is our chance to fight back the evil forces reaching out for those who are dear to our hearts. We should really make the best of our lives – together.", there was deep chime. "Happy New Year, everyone."

She pointed her wand out into the night with the next chime and a flash of golden light shot through the air. Minerva McGonagall joined her with red sparks. Students and teachers alike, started hugging and wished each other a Happy New Year as well, before more and more of them went to the parapet and shot differently coloured sparks of light up, some of the friends arm in arm, accompanied by the bell.

Hermione wasn't sure whether her messages reached any of them since they had been quite quick to start celebrating, but she hoped for the words to have sunken into their minds somewhere for doing their work later. For now, they at least had decided to give the world _some_ light.

Luna produced a whole fountain of multicoloured sparks. Argus Filch, Mrs Norris on his arms, only watched them, not able to hide a smile. Madam Pomfrey pointed down at what everyone saw: the inhabitants of Hogsmeade returned the magical fireworks. Oohs and aahs came from random people on the tower when an enormous fountain of fire rushed into the sky, transforming into a golden shining goat that burst into thousands of red, blue and green sparkles. As a response, a black wand stuck out between McGonagall's and Hermione's, conjured a jet of silvery flashes and whirls that turned to a shower of golden drops, raining down to the grounds.

Nobody except Hermione herself, noticed his hand on her back, but all others searched for the caster of the spell.

"Was that you, Severus?", Slughorn cheered, sending out a shimmering white fish that was blast away by a reddish orange dog of Luna's, accompanied by laughter of students as well as teachers.

"Do another.", Hermione whispered, almost swallowed by the cracking of the fire in the oven and the laughter.

But before he could, bright blue bolts soared into the night sky, due to position and scale, seemingly created by the same person down in Hogsmeade. The bolts exploded and formed a blue and green glowing cloud of which a gigantic orange, red and golden phoenix of light rose, flying across the lake, to there burst into flames that sprinkled the snow. Before the tower there was a rush of lilac and green light, melting to a huge growing plant with branches, lilac flowers blossoming from the green ends, collapsing into silver sparks and green glowing fog. Awestruck moans.

Between the minor spells from the village, a jet of blue shot high into the air, burst and rained down golden, leaving the image of a weeping willow against the night for some seconds. Only few on the tower, as so certainly in Hogsmeade as well, knew what it meant and the number of people at least recognising the sort of the following magic by the same person that had created flowers, was very small too:

Not a single movement of his lips, he whirled his wand over his head, producing a bluish sliver stream of light, sending it out. All eyes followed the two animals. A doe and an otter, rushing through the sky, dancing. He took advantage of the fascination to back away into the shadows. Hermione turned unnoticed.

"A Twin-Patronus, both of such clarity?", McGonagall aspirated. "Produced nonverbally? Is that even possible? You overtrumped – ", she turned as well, only to find the space behind her empty.

As a distraction when those animals vanished, Professor Burbage cast a blast of hopping yellow and brown sparks that turned into seemingly fleeing mice in the sky, making the others continue sending out lights.

Hermione followed a fluttering black cloak downstairs. Suddenly he was gone. Then, two strong arms were laid around her so fast she dropped her glass in surprise. Cold air twirling around them. Flying past the one or other lit corridor, the colourful showers on the Astronomy Tower distancing. Trees, ice and snow shining alternately in all possible colours of light. The moonlight bathing everything in a soft blue glow when the magic took its pauses. A little more shadow. Soft ground beneath their feet.

Golden rabbits chasing over the frozen Black Lake, many feet above the trees, coming from Hogsmeade. She turned to find various dark cushions and white pillows, as well as a white blanket under a certain conifer. A pale face and hands, the black robes and purple scarf lit in the same rhythm as the landscape. A warm smile. She saw a pair of black shoes standing next to him on the ground. A hand was held out.

Accepting the invitation, she staggered towards him, watching him take off both cloaks and throw them over the blanket. When she arrived in front of him, he kneeled down and pulled off her boots, Hermione holding herself onto his shoulder. Then he took her hand and stepped onto the thick rug. He slowly removed her woollen hat, scarf and gloves as well as his scarf and unbuttoned her coat, dropping everything next to a pillow that surrounded the head of the open air bed. Though starting to shiver from the cold, she watched him undoing silver clasps and taking off his own black robe, throwing it carelessly onto her clothes, followed by the black satin lavallière.

He sat down and pulled her to the ground, both crawling under the blankets and cloaks, Hermione placing her head on his outstretched right arm. Warm fingers stroke back her hair, caressed her right ear with a mutual smile. Cold noses touching. A red and green shimmer lighting the white pillows and parts of their hair. A soft kiss. Another. Only the moonlight remaining – and tender touches of affection, no one saw.

~~#~~

The castle laid deserted. People, still vast asleep. Breakfast was waiting in the kitchen, ready to appear on the tables above when somebody would take a seat. But nobody would yet. Nobody but one man, the least possible considered, entered the Great Hall through the backdoor and startled, his sleepy eyes wandering over the empty tables. Running a hand through his messed, sparse hair, he pulled his tiny silver pocket watch. No, he was in time. With a sigh, he adjusted his yellow bowtie and sat down, watching dishes and meal appear.

Footsteps. He raised his head, glancing out through the opened gilded doors of the hall. An ochre coat, as well as a lilac cap and scarf turned into the hall from the front gate, holding a black figure's hand, careless as there had been no detectable sound from inside the Great Hall. Both froze in place, inexplainable shock in their faces. Bacon dangled from a fork, having stopped between the plate and the widely open mouth. He blinked twice when he realised what their hands did. The fork slid from his own hand and landed in the scrambled eggs with a splat. More blinking. Hermione swallowed heavily, her heart hammering in her throat.

"Can't you erase his entire memory?", she gargled quietly.

"Can't you make me take out my wand?", Severus moaned equally low.

"Where is it?"

"In my left sleeve."

"That's too far away for my left hand."

"So it is for my right. Why don't you use your right hand?"

"I can't. You hold it too tight. Let go."

"How?"

" _How?_ ", she hissed in panic, still staring at Slughorn.

"Good morning!", that one sang, sounding very absent and forced.

"Good morning, Professor.", Hermione swallowed.

"Good morning.", Severus only mumbled.

"I think I – will just – pretend to – not have seen that, won't I?", Slughorn stammered slow and shakily. "Why don't you – er – come up here – and – and sit down? B-both of you?"

Hermione felt Severus' hand loosening a little with some sort of relief. He nevertheless looked around outside to check whether they really were the only ones. Holding her hand firmer again, he started pacing towards the staff table, pulling Hermione after. It felt like the longest distance ever walked. As if the walls were coming down to crush them, but some force kept them from walking faster, while the walls came closer with every second. Their numbness wouldn't fade when the couple sat down, Hermione still left to Severus. Some more dishes and a can with steaming spearmint tea appeared in front of him, but before Hermione, there was only an empty plate, a question mark written on it with currant jam. Both teachers raised an eyebrow.

"What?", Hermione hissed.

"They seem incapable to cope with a bum that isn't supposed to sit on this chair,", Severus half smirked, half frowned.

"They aren't! I don't like currant jam at all! They know exactly who's sitting here!", she moaned. "They knew when I sat down next to Luna and so they know now! They aren't incapable, they are being nasty! What's this madness!"

"Calm down.", Severus sighed, giving a tired look. "What would you like to eat?"

"What have you got there?", she examined the others' serving plates, contorting her face. "You can't eat it all, can you?"

"You work hard for their rights, only to let them bring you down so – impious?"

"Screw it, Severus! I'm not in the mood for discussing with Houseelves!"

"Miss Granger – ", Slughorn aspirated.

"Yes, you heard me right, Sir.", she bit her lip, looking from a pile of fresh vegetables, a little bowl with spread and a small plate filled with different sorts of cheese as well as a basket with granary bread and rolls up to Severus and back to the food several times, throwing a short glance at Slughorn's mass of bacon and eggs in between. "May I?", she moaned.

"Any time.", Severus softly smiled at her and gave her plate a cleaning wave of his hand. "Enjoy."

"Have you had a pleasant night?", Slughorn started while either of them filled their plates.

"Yes.", they mumbled simultaneously, Hermione blushing a little.

"How was yours, Professor? How long did you stay on the tower?"

"Oh not very long. Can you believe it? Me? Being too tired for a good wine? Dear Minerva seems to have a bad influence on me."

A woman with massive hair and loaded with jewellery like a Christmas tree, came shuffling through the backdoor, staring through her thick glasses. Although her eyes were small due to an obvious lack of sleep, they looked of normal size due to the framed ashtrays in front of them.

"Oh I have not seen this coming. This is bad.", she muttered to herself. "The hall is supposed to be filled with students and teachers but it is empty like the tombs of the great pharaohs."

"It is New Year's Day, Sybill.", Severus murmured, making her startle up with a surprised, sought in scream. "Most students won't return within the next four days and it might take another two for the rest to arrive. As for those who are supposed to be here, I assume they had as much a mind-troubling night as you appear to have had."

"The stars were in a truly illuminating constellation! But very well, Severus.", she sang and sat down, leaving three chairs, including the Headmaster's, empty.

"New, new, Syb'll.", Slughorn chomped. "Thar's nu need fur sittin' shat far away."

Another person entered, still wearing her nightshirt and a dark grey banyan over it, her hair in a messed plait that fell over her left shoulder. Holding her hand in front of her mouth as she yawned, she scuffed towards her chair, only a pair of red tartan slippers on her feet.

"Good morning.", all four said almost at the same time, each staring at her with a very differing expression.

"'Mooorning.", she yawned again, pushing the heavy Headmaster chair back with a lazy wave of her hand and giving all other chairs to the right a second wave, plus a shortly squealing Professor Trelawney and her breakfast. "Never again.", she sighed and sat down. "Never. I think I went to bed at six or later. Rolanda, Charity and Poppy stole away my night. I had no idea those three could be so talkative. Well, Charity of course, and she clearly owned the show, but the others – I see,", she rubbed her eyes, "I am the only one here who hasn't slept? Well, any of you wondered as well, why Albus is gone to Heaven only knows but returns for a night to please us with a show-off-performance out of Hogsmeade?"

"He probably wanted to check whether Hogwarts is still safe and tell that he hasn't forgotten us?", both McGonagall and Trelawney; who strangely hadn't noticed her either; escaped a shriek.

"Miss Granger!", her Head of House leant over the table to get a better view on her.

"Good morning, Professor.", Hermione did likewise, waving at her with an awkward smile.

"What are you doing at the staff table?", she didn't notice that Slughorn swallowed heavily.

"Eating.", Severus grumbled.

"Pardon, Severus?"

"Well, it would be odd, if she sat alone on one of those empty rows of wood, wouldn't it?", a look at her, as bored as can be, Hermione guessed, as his hair blocked it from her sight.

"Oh – of course it would. Very well, good morning, Miss Granger. Ah – and your consideration – thinking about it, you might even be right. Still I – oh!"

A soft lavender and pink pullover, bilious green low shoes. The socks over blue tights, a knee length skirt and a tilted hat of sparkling, colour changing wool. Some kind of long blue necklace with a bright yellow ball on it. Long ash-blond hair. All of it was hopping joyfully into the hall from the main door. She stopped halfway up the Ravenclaw table, looking at the face of the hall.

"A very good morning, to all of you, Professors!", Luna Lovegood beamed. "Oh and Hermione as well! Yes, I am done. Wonderful, aren't they?"

"Amazing!", Hermione chuckled; she couldn't believe she had made all that out of only ten balls and in such short time.

"Thank you!", Luna stepped over the bench at her usual place, Hermione throwing a pleading look to the right; Slughorn caught it.

"Now Miss Lovegood, why don't you join us up 'ere?"

"Really, Professor?"

"Oh yes, yes. Come on up.", he waved her to him.

"Thank you, Sir.", everyone followed her with their eyes as she hopped on, around the end of the staff table and straight to Hermione. "May I?"

"Sure!", Luna sat down and immediately a number of bowls with different sorts of jam and spread as well as a basket with freshly baked toast and a cup of hot chocolate appeared along with her plate and cutlery. "What?", Hermione moaned. "Why – why do _you_ get your breakfast and I don't? That's – bastards!"

"Drop it, Granger.", Severus groaned.

~~#~~

They left the hall far last. No one else had come for breakfast after Luna's arrival. Everyone was still in their dormitories and private rooms, too tired for eating, much to the couple's fortune. Holding hands again, they slowly walked up in direction of the Astronomy Tower, deeply in thoughts. The whole castle was peaceful and flooded with a dim winter's light. Only eyes of portraits followed them on one of the possible ways up, over the moving staircases. Suddenly tearing them from their thoughts, the voice of someone who was talking in the corridor they meant to enter.

"Well, well, until later then."

Horace Slughorn sang, rather tired sounding, waving to a person in a crossing corridor and turned towards the staircase. Head lowered, he waddled along the darker corridor, only looking up a few yards before he would have crashed into the couple. Hermione's worried look drifted from one sad face to the other.

"Oh – you two.", Slughorn sighed limply and walked around them, only to stop after a few steps, turning back. "Oh Severus – ", the couple slightly turned as well, not loosening their grip. "Would you mind having a word? Unless Miss Granger doesn't want to let you go – ", Severus gave her a questioning glance.

"It's alright.", she whispered and nodded sideways to Slughorn. "Go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think I'll go looking for Luna. She's probably up on the tower anyway, now that she's done with knitting that colourful wonder.", a rather pathetic smile escaped him. "Don't worry. I'll be fine.", they exchanged a little kiss. "See you.", she walked into the corridor, slowly letting go of his hand.

"In case you need something, I will be down in my rooms, doing the laundry."

"Laundry?", Hermione chuckled, stepping backwards.

"I cannot let those disrespectful Elves mess with my clothes, can I?", he winked briefly and walked away with Slughorn.

Some minutes later, they entered Slughorn's grand office. Slughorn gave the fireplace a flick of his wand and watched Severus pace towards the private balcony, gazing out through the closed glass doors. He remembered having been there once for detention. It had been a rather light one. Martha Altena had caught him trying new spells on mice in a broom cabinet. Though when she had found him, none of the animals had been alive anymore. He then had to demonstrate all the spells he had used against the mice on training puppets and afterwards; right in front of her nose; write a one foot essay, respectively about each of those spells and why they were not supposed to be used. Since it had been quite a number of mice, he had spent more than five hours in the office. There was rattling behind him now and the sound of something liquid pouring, but he ignored it. Slughorn came shuffling to his left, two cups in the one, a steaming can in the other hand.

"Tea, Severus?"

"No, thank you.", he answered, expression unchanged, still staring through the balcony door, though not really paying attention to the snowy landscape outside either.

"Then not.", Slughorn sighed and filled only one of the cups, carrying the rest back to the large round table in the middle of the office. "Have you ever been here?"

"Once."

"Ah yes. Wasn't that for detention?"

"Yes."

"What was that again, that you did?"

"I was blamed for being – an aspiring student.", a vague sneer.

"Ah now I remember! Killing mice, wasn't it?"

"They were no real mice. In fact, it was only one mouse I had put the Gemino Curse on."

"On a living being? Now that is truly fascinating!", Slughorn went over to a particular shelf and picked a photo, putting it one row further to the front as quiet as possible. "And what were the spells you practised on them then? Can you recall – "

"Ask Professor Altena."

"But – the dear woman died – when was that? Seventeen years ago already? Merlin's beard! Time flies f- ", he understood what Severus had meant and marched back to him.

"I believe, we are not here to talk about mice, are we?"

"No – not at all, not – at – all.", Slughorn's voice died down and he took a sip.

"Well?"

"Severus – ", he whispered, pleading. "Why? Make me understand. You have always been a straight person. Honouring the border between a student and a teacher. And then this? There are so many women in the world. Why picking one of your students?"

"Don't get me wrong, but for a moment it sounded as if you cared for your students in a less questionable way?", Severus turned and walked into the office, stopping with his eyes on the notorious shelf that had been travelling around with Slughorn ever since he had started teaching.

" _Of course_ I do, Severus!", he hissed after him, though not losing his temper. "I always cared for my students' welfare."

"Obviously.", he breathed a chuckle.

"What's that?"

"I believe you,"

"Well, then make me understand! I am aware that she is a very special young woman. Just as aspiring as you had been in your schooldays. But actually having a romantic relationship – "

"You say.", Severus snorted.

"I beg you pardon?"

"I looked away. Is it asked too much to do the same for me?"

"Severus, what – "

"You know exactly what I mean. I could have told Albus, but I didn't. I let you. He turned off age eventually and apparently wanted it. So, somewhat same situation, isn't it? Only that I _did_ wait,"

"Excuse me?", his tone became more rough.

"Yes, I, know.", Severus murmured, turning a little, a serious look upon his face.

"You know what?"

" _You_ know what.", that created a very long pause, filled with nothing but silence.

"How?", Slughorn aspirated then, gargling.

"Because I have eyes and ears."

"You – "

"Exactly. Eloisa said the truth. She wasn't ` _a good girl_ ´ to mutter that she had no idea what you were talking about. She was an _honest_ girl. It was _me_ who caught you."

"Oh my goodness – "

"Don't worry.", Severus curtly shook his head, keeping his expression. "You're the first one I talked about it with."

"But – you were – only – "

"Eleven, I know. And I knew what I saw. So save your pity. Be grateful I swallowed it all those years."

"This – Severus – ", he scratched his sparse hair, "But – does she really want it?"

"I am not as perverted as you are. I bet, it didn't even bother you when they threw him into Azkaban."

"That's enough now!"

"Ah? You hoped, he would return to you? Well, I think I will have to disappoint you. After the trio was through with him, it will be a miracle he'd want to share his bed with even Narcissa again – _should_ he get out of Azkaban."

"What is this – Severus what are you talking about? Which trio?", Slughorn panicked seriously.

"The same trio that hangs around in Hogsmeade with Tonks now. Those scrotes are guarding a school! The very same school his son sits in and neither Scrimgeour nor Albus know what happened in this quite personal hearing.", his look was a mix of anger and forced back tears.

"But you do?", Slughorn whimpered.

"I held my hands on Draco's ears four corridors down.", there was nothing Slughorn managed to say on this.

Severus approached the shelf, close to crying when he found a smile so familiar. Lips curling, he picked it up with a shaking hand. Slughorn walked towards him, trying to see around the curtain of black hair. A single tear fell, yet unsighted.

"Lily – ", Slughorn breathed, lowering his head and cup. "Oh dear. Such great talent. All for nothing. Life is cruel, indeed."

"It wasn't for nothing.", the fury in him grew. "Lily's talents were many and neither was for nothing.", he put down the photo next to the one of Harry, staring at another in the lowest back-row. "She possessed an amazing gift."

"Oh yes, she did."

"Which is still the only really effective weapon against the Dark Lord.", Slughorn's head rushed up to the black veil shrouding the already drying tears. "It is why Harry is still alive. If you knew nearly what truthful love feels like, you wouldn't ask me to explain anything to you, ever."

He reached for the black and white photo of a sixteen year old girl with long waving black hair and round glasses he had stared at, carefully wiping the dust off it, before he put it back. Then he turned on the heels and went for the door.

"Severus – "

"If you really care for me, put my mother's photograph a little further to the front. _She_ had talents you wouldn't be able to imagine in your most wondrous dreams.", he mumbled. "If you excuse me,", the door swung open, "I am running out of socks."

Leaving an open door and a perplexed Horace Slughorn behind, he stormed through the corridors and four floors down the gigantic tower, until one of the staircases changed direction and he almost directly stood in front of Filch, Mrs Norris walking beside him. Filch frowned with interest when he saw Severus' twisted face. A rush of black fog hurtled over the handrail and sped straight down the tower, becoming invisible after two floors, the caretaker and his cat; her head stuck out between the stone bars of the rail; watching him flee in a very unusual way for a Hogwarts professor.

Still invisible, he landed a few yards before his office door, pulled his wand and pointed it at the lock from the distance. The door burst open and he stomped in, slamming and locking it behind with another wave of his black wand. Then he broke down against his desk, knees and bottom sinking to the floor. His left forearm and right hand hanging on the edge of the tabletop and his head leaning to his limp left hand, he wept bitterly at the dark wood, slowly taking shape again. The wand still loosely in his right hand, his fingers dug into the old desk, so hard their tips hurt. But he didn't care. He didn't feel that pain. Too big was another.

Suddenly, a flame erupted in midair, attracting his attention. _Clonk_. A small wooden casket landed on the stone floor, followed by an envelope before the fire dissolved. He wiped the tears off his eyes with the back of his right hand, holding his wand tight, and crawled over to the casket. In wound handwriting, his name had been placed onto the envelope. A flick of his wand and it tore open. Shakily, he pulled out the letter.

 _Dear Severus_

 _I wish I could have given you this personally, but as you know, my time is very limited. You may have noticed, I had enough of it to pay Hogsmeade a visit and have a little chat. It went as expected though, but I do not mean to load any more of my personal dilemmas upon you._

 _Glad to have witnessed the existence of a bit more light in your life, I ask you for caution, you could guess. I hope, I need not remember you to concentrate on your task. It is crucial!_

 _Still, for a relief time, I believe this small present might come in handy if you would like your new secret to make you be – safe and sound._

 _A Happy New Year and an early Birthday_

 _With best wishes for some nice days until term resumes_

 _Albus_

Wiping off more tears, he opened the wooden casket, eyes gaping with shock. Even more, when the lock of his office door clicked. Alarmed and ready, he shut the casket with his wand at the door as it opened slowly.

"Severus?", the soft whisper drifted in, causing his hand to lower almost automatically. "I knew it.", she puffed when she saw his face, entered and closed the door behind, giving it a locking flick. "Goodness – what's happened? I just saw you leaving Filch baffled. Thought I might give it a try. So?"

"Nothing.", he mumbled, both hands back on the floor, the casket and wand held barely.

"You're a great liar, but excuse me,", she knelt down in front of him, "You screwed it this time."

"Tz.", Severus chuckled, but she lightly took his chin with her left hand and lifted it, forcing him to look at her.

"What's going on, huh?"

"Just – life.", he sighed. "It's nothing, really."

"I'm warning you,", she remained serious.

"Of what."

"I'll be kissing you until you give in and tell me."

"As if."

"Yes, I will. I'll be kissing you so much Hermione will get jealous even though she won't get to find out. Don't give me that look,", he actually had no idea what look he had given her. "I'm not stupid. And I'll count to three."

"You don't – "

"One,"

"Dare – "

"Two,"

"To – "

"Three. Time's up."

Though she had warned him, he hadn't been prepared. All over his face, she began placing thick kisses, holding his head around his ears in order to prevent his escape.

"Oh come on – no – no – ", he muttered, trying to turn from her hands. "Sto' – will ye – sto' it – already?"

But instead, she pushed him backwards with an unexpected force and the objects at last slipped from his hands. Coming to lie on him, she printed a final kiss on his right cheek and continued drilling her eyes into his, both panting a little. Still holding his head, she looked down on him, demandingly grim and her blond waves slid down onto his forehead. But he could hardly see or feel any of that.

"Well?"

"I – can' – ", Severus gargled, trying to breathe.

"Don't be silly,"

"Ye're – squashin' me nards – "

"What?"

"Yer knee – sligh'ly wron' angle – "

"What's with my – oh my goodness!", she had lastly understood and turned her head to see and lift her leg to a better position. "Sorry – I – I'm so sorry – "

"I'm – alive – ", he swallowed thoroughly at the fading pain. "Jus' nex' time, be more careful. I migh' still need 'em."

"Sorry – "

"Shu' it.", grunted Severus.

"Severus – ", moaning, she brushed her hair off his face.

"I said, shut it, Eli. You won."

"I won? I won what?", but he just sighed, contorting his lips. "The Manhood-Killer-Award or something?"

"Tz. Sum'thin' like it."

"So?", she followed his look when he turned his head towards the wooden casket on the floor and before he could intervene, she reached for it. "What's in there?"

"Yer competitor's weapon."

"You allow me to open it?"

"Go fer it,", Severus murmured, drifting into some sort of exhaustion and knowing she was going to open it either way.

"Fine, so what have we got – here – ", her eyes popped out.

"Feelin' better?"

He waited for some sort of comment – a cheek – anything, but for a while she merely stared at the casket's content. Then – she shut it as wordless, put it down and gazed onto the stone floor. For about half a minute. And suddenly she began to laugh. He had no idea why she found that amusing. And when she rolled off him to his right, laughing at the chandelier with her eyes closed, he was not sure whether he could join in, despite a certain need for it grew in him.

There was another need he had not known to be so strong. Now that the weight on him was gone, he missed it. He missed someone just making themselves comfortable on him. Strangely he even found it although Hermione had done that a couple of times; she was too light somehow. Hermione indeed was a fly weight. She could give him comfort, yes, but at the moment he wasn't quite sure whether that sort of comfort was enough along the way, whether it was exactly what he needed.

"Sorry – ", Charity breathed hard into her hand.

"Never min'. I know ye laughed 'bou' 'im, no' me."

"Yeah. Er – ", she let her hand sink onto her chest, "You gonna make use of that stuff?"

"Ye min'?"

"Uh – no – I mean – better than – er – "

"D'ye bother?"

"What? I – no! Why the heck should I bother? I told you, I don't!", clearly having understood, she looked at him, but he preferred to study the cracks in the ceiling instead.

"Dunno. Maybe I 'oped ye'd bother, no idea."

"Huh?"

"Ferge' it."

"Should I have a reason to bother?"

"Tz."

"Well?"

"Why d'ye ask me.", Charity though sighed and looked back up again as well.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Surely I believe ye're able ter,", her chuckle upon that even managed to charm a minuscule smile on his lips.

"Do you miss him?"

"Whom?"

"Igor of course."

"Why should I – "

"Do you?"

"'E writes me on a weekly basis – at leas' – "

"But you haven't seen him – um – since – you know – ", whatever she meant to achieve by that –

"No."

"So?"

"So?"

"Do you miss him?"

"Wha' kind o' question is 'is?"

"It does consist of four words and a legitimate question mark."

"Dun' make fun o' me,"

"I don't."

"Ye do."

"No."

"Can ye do me a favour?"

"Any.", that gave him pause and he stared at her, uncertain.

"A-any?"

"Yes.", she fully turned to him and looked straight into his eyes. "Anything. Well, unless you want me to help you test those c-"

"No – I – hell, no! How – "

"Sorry."

"I'd never ask ye fer tha'!"

"Never?", Charity smirked and he couldn't help it.

"I'd rather do wit'ou',", that made her laugh even more than before and she patted his chest twice, coughing into his shoulder.

"So what's that favour now?"

"Can – can ye – ", he had to take a deep breath in order to say it aloud, or rather, to get rid of that whisper. "Can ye stay 'ere?"

"The whole day?", she though whispered back with a smile.

"Yes."

"No public meals?"

"I – I dun' think so – "

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"Ye're no' angry wit' me?"

"Honestly, you were so cute since Christmas, I really have no reason to be angry with you. And I _told_ you,"

"Alrigh', alrigh'."

"You know, I really don't see why you wouldn't be glad I don't bother."

"Lemme guess – it _is_ a lil' abnormal,"

"If you go deep inside you, you might once and for all believe me that it's not so abnormal at all. And anyway, both of us are well aware that you used to share several beds with the Queen of Abnormalities."

"Righ'."

"And tables,"

"Eli,"

"Desks and cupboards,"

"I'm warnin' ye,"

"Counters, gardens, backstreets, rocks and someone else's boat,"

"Ch– "

"At least one piano,"

"No, never a piano.", he growled.

"But I _do_ know of that confessional,"

"Charity! Who _told_ ye – "

"The Queen,"

"Then le' the Prince tell ye sum'thin' else, will ye?"

"Shut it. I've seen that very discrete letter of warning by the Mother Superior."

"Tha's a fake! 'E wrote it!"

"Er – since when can he fake handwritings?", she sat up with interest.

"Since I taugh' 'im 'ow ter,"

~~#~~


	23. Chapter 22 - Strain and Restraint

– Chapter 22 –

 **Strain and Restraint**

Harry left to _return a book_ at eight o'clock. Several Gryffindors had besieged him all day long after it had slipped Ron that Harry had already Apparated. Hermione wondered what it would be like to do it all by herself. She had done it twice with Severus when he had taken her to Malham Cove on Christmas Day, making her re-arrange her imaginary least-five of travelling: Apparating was now equal-ranking with broomsticks. Though she would have to learn it. She had some influence on him, but he refused to teach her how to fly like he did before she passed her Apparition Exam. Glad that she was already seventeen, she would only need to succeed in the lessons, rather than Harry who had to wait until summer to actually take the exam. But she of course knew that Dumbledore wouldn't survive long enough for Harry's exam to take place at all and that troubled her much. Harry – of all – to not – well, not that she doubted his abilities –

Dumbledore. That old bag. In a week, she hadn't gotten Severus to tell her what had been in that casket. He hadn't even allowed her to read the letter. What kind of present would be private enough to share the knowledge of its existence with one's girlfriend, but no further details? And Burbage knew something. That much Hermione was certain of, by the looks the woman gave her any time their eyes met.

Hermione sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, alone, her head leaning far from vividly on her arm. The rest was enjoying themselves at the sofas, having hung on Harry's lips as he had told them what Side-Along-Apparition felt like, about a hundred times. Now he was gone and Lavender was back in Ron's lap. _Bitch_ , Hermione thought, giving her an uncaught bored glare.

"Are you looking forward to the lessons as well?", Parvati Patil had sat down at Hermione's corner table, her hands on the tabletop.

"Not too necessarily.", Hermione yawned.

"The way Harry describes it, Apparating must feel rather yucky."

"Have you ever seen raw Runespoor eggs?"

"Yeah. There is a glass of them in the Potions classroom. Disgusting things."

"And now imagine eating up that whole glass in one go."

"Ugh! Never!"

"Well, that's what it feels like."

"Wait – have you Apparated already?", Parvati's eyes widened.

"Side-Along."

"You too? With whom?"

"A friend.", Hermione still studied the ugliness of Ron's and Lavender's snogging – smiling inside, because Severus' kisses felt so wonderful to her that she knew there was _no way_ kissing him could look that horrible.

"Oh! Exciting! I wish I had the chance to."

"Believe me. You don't.", Hermione sighed.

"Well, if it's really like you two say, I might re-consider. Who's that friend of yours?", Parvati giggled. "I mean, I don't want to sound rude – but you're – "

"Muggle-Born. Yes, even people like me do have grown up magical friends."

"Goodness, sorry! If your hair'd be black and utterly greasy, by that look you just gave me, you could be Snape!"

"Honestly, if I cared about your unintentional insult, I might just become a little like him and put you in detention."

"Sorry – "

"Never mind.", she decided to project all the loathing she felt in her own eyes onto Lavender, because if she would have to chose, she still liked Parvati a tad better. "And how come everyone immediately associates him with greasy hair. It's not greasy all the time. Just because he hates the way it stands when it's freshly washed – "

"What? Er – by the way, have you seen Snape leaving the castle after lunch?", Hermione's head rushed to her.

"Huh?"

"Really not? Well, everyone who did, is talking about it, haven't you heard them?"

"No? What's with him?"

"He wore a shining purple scarf.", the other girl giggled again.

"And?"

"Yeah. That wouldn't be too odd, if it wasn't all-black Snape, was it? And it wouldn't be either if that scarf hadn't white shiny stars on it.", she giggled on.

"And?", Hermione kept her bored expression.

" _And?_ ", a hand waving in front of her face. "Hermione!", Parvati hissed. "Snape! Wearing a scarf with stars!", the giggling was back.

"So what?"

" _So what?_ ", Parvati murmured.

"Honestly Parvati, I don't care what Snape wears."

That was actually the truth. She didn't care what Severus wore as she had come to the conclusion that every piece of clothing she had seen him wearing, suited him – and if it was – wearing nothing. Careful not to blush, she carried on.

"As long as he doesn't start jumping through the Great Hall naked, I couldn't care less what he wears."

"Hey, Hermione!", a tall boy had approached her from behind, but she ignored him as if she had been prepared to hear his voice any second.

"Uh – I think, I'm going now.", Parvati whispered grinning, a second later staring at Hermione with shock – her left hand was trapped under Hermione's fallen right one.

"Not so fast.", she hissed, eyes almost empty, seeing Parvati's widening with confusion.

"But – aren't you – isn't he your – "

"Cormac!", Hermione turned her head up to him with a sneer. "How was your detention with Snape?"

"Horrible.", he smirked.

"Well then, why don't you sit down and tell Parvati here all the details? She's burning with enthusiasm about Snape! She's trying to get to know – his private side!", Hermione said in such a volume, several people turned their heads towards them. "So much one would think she's in love with him!"

"Hermione! I'm not!", strangely it wasn't even hard to catch Parvati's blush.

"You know what they say about people who scream out denial?", Hermione hissed and Parvati shook her head. "They. Lie.", she stood up and went to the portrait hole just when it opened again, revealing Ginny, eyes red and dried tears on her cheeks.

"Where are _you_ heading?"

"Library."

"The library is closed already. You know that.", Ginny frowned.

"Well, not for me. I'm a Prefect.", Hermione stopped in place though when she spotted a black figure freezing a floor below.

"Yes. Snape. I wonder what business he has to do up here.", murmured Ginny, interpreting her move.

"McLaggen just came back from detention with him. I guess, he escorted him personally due to the security measures."

"Oh."

"Will you enter now or what?", the Fat Lady sang around her canvas.

"Okay, okay!", Ginny barked.

"If I see Dean, I'll give him a kiss from you and a smack in the face.", Hermione said coldly. "Goodnight."

"Thanks.", Ginny moaned. "G'night."

Hermione heard the portrait fall shut behind. Not without a checking glance over her shoulder, she went downstairs, catching up with him, just like she had hoped and wanted. In the meantime he had leant onto the handrail of a fixed landing and looked down at the distant main staircase, almost invisible in the dark of the night, as strangely, the torches had stopped burning when the Fat Lady had shut the hole. She came to halt to his left and leaned onto the banister as well.

"Being a Prefect does not excuse stealing yourself out at night, Miss Granger.", he whispered as cold as she had said her last sentence to Ginny.

"Oh – I didn't know that, Sir.", she quietly sang, affecting surprise. "I assume I will get detention for it? What a _shame_.", he slowly started to laugh, reached out and pulled her close, Hermione leaning against him, grinning – some portraits eyed them with interest.

"Do you have the slightest idea, what I actually feel for you?", he whispered, smiling, and nestled his cheek on her head with his eyes closed.

"Enough to make Parvati curious."

"Pardon?"

"We need to be careful. She might sneak after you again just to find out where you got that scarf from."

"That won't be good; I don't want to make it my habit to alter her memory on a daily basis.", Hermione laughed.

"Don't worry, for the moment. Probably she will be cautious. Or otherwise people will actually believe that she's got a crush on you. And I saddled her with McLaggen."

"What?", he now hissed, looking down on her hair.

"Don't ask.", Hermione dropped her head with an embarrassed grin, feeling her chin being lifted gently. "Hmm?"

They gazed into each others' eyes for a long while, her hands still on the banister, but eventually shared some soft kisses. Footsteps from below made them stop though. Stomping ferociously, Dean Thomas climbed the stairs, not paying attention to his surrounding. That made it easier for them to disappear.

Staircases and walls rushing by, they quietly landed in front of old wooden doors with glass windows. No lights were on. A quiet clicking and the doorknob turned, clicking again when they were in. The same happened at the second door. Hermione found herself; invisible until that point; lifted onto a table in the Restricted Section.

"Severus!", she giggled when he embraced her, standing between her spread legs. "What are we doing here?"

"Didn't you say, you wanted to go to the library?", he sneered.

"Idiot!", Hermione laughed quietly when her hair was wiped away and tender lips started to kiss her neck. "You will get us both expelled!"

~~#~~

A little later than her classmates, she entered Transfiguration class, arms wrapped around her body that was almost fully covered by her black uniform cloak. Only her bushy brown hair jumped on top and she seemed far absent with her thoughts. Her bag hung carelessly on her shoulder and she herself was obviously – taller and louder. Everyone looked after her, or more, her feet, as she swaggered over to her seat next to Harry, who again, was the barrier between her and Ron. Dropping her bag and still pulling her cloak tight, she tried to ignore the stares.

"Er – morning?", Harry whispered.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Oh – sorry – ", Hermione startled up. "Good morning, Harry. Where's McGonagall?"

"Late?"

"How funny.", she huffed.

"I didn't laugh,", Harry frowned at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You're the one who'd need a shave."

"I can't. That'll cut those horrible pimples. Ron's mum's made far too much sweet stuff over Christ- Hermione? What're you – ", she had bent down and withdrawn a flask from her bag, which she quickly dropped it in his lap. "What's this!", he hissed.

"Look at my face and tell me.", Hermione pouted quietly.

"Wait – didn't you – you always wore makeup, didn't you?"

"Not anymore, as you obviously saw."

"Is that stuff – second. That's not Fred and George's wonder crap, is it? I thought you – "

"Actually,", she sang under her breath, "They stole it. I borrowed it back."

"Meaning?"

"I figured out their source."

"And I guess, you won't tell me the source."

"Not at all."

"It's legal?"

"As it comes directly from the original creator, _yes, it is legal_. The stuff they reproduced, however, isn't."

"And I just pour it over?"

"Of course not!", Hermione moaned. "You dab bits of it on the pimples with a cotton pad before you go to sleep. And for Heaven's sake, don't forget to wash your face thoroughly _before_."

"I'm not stupid, Hermione. Yet, that doesn't make me the owner of cotton pads."

"Then take a handkerchief – ", she murmured, "Or toilet paper – or ask Burbage for a tampon! God! Be creative, Harry! It's not so difficult!"

"Well, thanks, then.", he snorted back and slipped it into his own school bag when McGonagall stepped into the classroom.

"Good morning, class.", the elderly woman greeted, a pile of green paper folders on her arms dancing in the rhythm of her black hair bun's bouncing and looking a little pale with dark rings under her eyes as if she hadn't slept.

"Good morning, Professor.", the class replied, as usual, but with slightly sceptic looks at the soft green mystery.

"I unfortunately have to start today's lesson with bad news.", she turned around in front of her desk, facing the students. "As you all might have noticed, Madam Sprout was not on top of her health lately. Tonight however, she has reached the climax of her sickness, so far. Before she fainted on the stretcher the delegation of St Mungo's Hospital took her away on, she could ask me to tell Professor Snape to undertake her lessons."

A bewildered murmur went through the class. People were exchanging looks as though they were mentally writing their last will for each other.

"I am not done yet!", abrupt silence fell, and she looked much more awake now. "Additionally, she has told me where to find the tests and essays handed in before the holidays, which she felt incapable of correcting of. So if there is any among you who would like to bring those – ", she lifted the folders a hand broad, "To Professor Snape; who unfortunately has not been present last night; and tell him what happened? Anyone?", the looks of the students were stuck between disgust and fear. "Anyone who _will resist to alter their own work before delivering the papers_? What about you, Miss Granger?"

"Professor?", the girl gargled.

"I believe I can trust you, of all your classmates?"

"Um – yes, Madam."

She hesitantly stood up, still clutching her cloak, and took the folders, holding them to her chest instantly as if they were the most precious papers on earth, but she wouldn't let go of the cloak either. Turning with spinning hair, she hasted away.

"Miss Granger – are those – what on earth are those shoes you are wearing?", but Hermione was gone.

Trying not to twist her ankles, she walked through the corridors. On the next windowsill she put down the folders, not believing what she was actually doing. Originally, she had thought of it rather being for Ron's senses at lunch, but since the rumour of going out with McLaggen had worked and the circumstances downright begged for it –

She picked her wand from her cloak's pocket, took off her cloak and pointed the wand at it. _Diminuendo Maxima_ , she thought, already feeling the cold of the corridor. The cloak shrunk to the size of a pearl and she carefully stuck it into her décolleté that looked rather dubious today. Putting the wand behind her ear, she took the folders on her left arm and hurried on. Around the corner, she met someone who was an amazing chance if one was up to spreading rumours, but not willing to be tortured beforehand.

"Good Morning, Sir Nicholas!", she sung.

"Good Morning – Miss – _Granger_?", the ghost stared after her as she clacked into the next corridor.

The classroom door flew open, staying this way. Thick black curtains were still darkening the room and the class sighed when a few flicks of his hand lit the candles floating above them. As usually, everyone jumped up when he rushed through between the middle rows, cloak and hair bagging.

Walking spaciously around his desk, he gave the outside wall another wave of his left hand and every second window jumped open to bring some fresh air into the classroom. The students next to the windows startled almost onto the laps of their neighbours.

A massive turn later, he crossed his fingers in front of his stomach and took the register by only looking across their heads, his dark expression spread all over his face. When he saw that the class was complete, he let out a sigh, not without taking another short glance at Luna's new woollen cap, changing from one bright colour to another, sparkling.

"Will you take that off, Miss Lovegood?", he snapped. "I am glad that you wear your uniform; still, this is not a masquerade."

"Alright, Sir.", she smiled and dropped the cap into her bag, the sparkling shining out however, blinking like a jar full of rainbow coloured fireflies.

"Sit down,", the class did as said. "And get out your books. For the first part of the lesson you will be reading and studying what you will practice during the second part. So read thoroughly. I don't want any injuries in my class. The page is – "

A flash of red light and something feathery came rushing through the open window nearest to his desk. All heads shot around at the owl which rumbled to the floor and came to lie lifelessly, a roll of parchment bound to its leg. Severus stormed to the window and bent out, finding the source of the spell at an instant.

"O'NELLY!", the entire class jerked, most of them having never heard him yell like that before. "Who permitted you to train Stunning Spells on flying owls when you're supposed to sit in History! Twenty points off, you foolish moron!", with a snort, he turned to the owl on the floor. "Incredible.", he carefully picked up the animal and laid it down on his desk, taking the parchment for a check of the recipient, then dropped it and addressed his class, as calm as ever. "Page number five hundred and twenty-two. The clock is ticking."

Hastily pages were flipped and the students started to read, watched by him, patrolling the corridors between the benches. He returned to his desk and let his eyes drift over the students, hands in his pockets. Though it wasn't long then until some of them turned their heads to the still opened door, hearing a clacking getting louder. Even their teacher narrowed his eyes, caring less about the owl than before, when a young woman came strutting in, making the one and other jaw drop. An eyebrow lifted, Severus stared at her too. With a very confident look, she paced towards him, though froze in the front row, her eyes on the bird.

"What is this owl doing there?", she frowned.

"It got stunned.", Severus said slowly and as deep as ever. "But the question is, what would _you_ be doing here – _Miss Granger_?"

"Well, greetings from Professor McGonagall, _Sir_.", she dropped the green folders on his desk with such a force that most of the owl's feathers flapped from the gust, finally looking up at him. "She has asked me to bring you this, since she didn't have the time for it and believed, missing a part of a lesson would be no tragedy compared to my pace of learning. Other than that, she stated that I would be; rather than anyone else; able to resist manipulating these papers. As you surely might not know, Sir, _since_ ; as Professor McGonagall told me; you had been busy last night, Madam Sprout has been taken to St Mungo's."

"St – ", he moaned quietly.

"Her sickness appeared to be far more than just a long lasting cold.", she panted slightly, but continued her fast speaking. "Before she passed out, she is said to have insisted on you undertaking her lessons.", the same murmur as in McGonagall's class went through his, telling her that they were still conscious enough to listen _and_ understand.

"Me.", he stretched the short word to an alarming length.

"Do you not happen to have a wide knowledge of plants, Professor?", Hermione sang.

"I – do.", he groaned.

"Very well, those are tests and essays written before the holidays, which Madam Sprout felt incapable of correcting until the present moment. The students are awaiting the results. Therefore you would be advised to have corrected them in a _fair manner_ , by the end of the weekend, Sir. If you excuse me, I need to get back to Professor McGonagall's lesson.", she spun around and strutted back to the door, heads turning after her.

" _Miss Granger_?", another very long moan followed her.

"Yes, Professor?", she spun on her – high, black – heels again, in the back row this time.

"Am I needing to tell you it is the second week of January?", he continued monotonously.

"No, Sir. I am aware of that. Is there something special about it?", she noticed herself that she actually sounded a little like Dolores Umbridge.

"Then _what is this_ that you are wearing there?", he groaned quite annoyed, his eyes briefly wandering up and down her body.

"School uniform.", Hermione answered curtly.

"Don't you _think_ , it might still be a bit too cold for the skirt – without tights?"

"No? I am very comfortable with it. Besides,", she noted nastily, hoping no one would spot her goosebumps, "I am an adult female and I can dress the way I like to, don't you think, Sir?", she turned left to leave but was stopped halfway to the door.

"Well, if you _must_ , _I_ advise _you_ to at least pull it down a bit so it sits in the right place or order a new one, if the other is impossible due to whatever inability of yours, may it be of physical or magical nature. Second, close those buttons of your blouse or take a different bra. This is a school, not a whorehouse. And third – ", Hermione stormed out, pretending not to bother him, "I don't, recall, such shoes, being part of the girls' uniform!", he snorted after her, shaking his head then. "Unbelievable.", he added mumbling. "Not whorehouse, a _madhouse_!"

"Happy Birthday, by the way!", she called back in from the corridor.

One of the boys finally let out a subdued snickering grunt, though not unnoticed. A flick of Severus' hand and the Hufflepuff slapped his own on his mouth and nose with a groan of pain. An angry look at him and a sigh to the pile of paper and Severus sat down for starting the correction immediately.

Hermione in the meantime had enlarged her cloak and hurtled back to her lesson with a big flushed grin.

" _I can dress the way I like to_?", Ginny hissed under her breath.

"She obviously is right, isn't she?", Luna giggled quiet, only receiving a warning look from the teacher's desk.

"It's your birthday, Sir?", a boy with mousy brown, short waved hair asked. "All the best, then!"

"If you wish to survive this day, save your breath, Mr Creevey."

~~#~~

The news had spread in the corridors like a tsunami. Two classes later, he hurried off to lunch, after having been close to deal out detention likewise several times. Fortunately there was the backdoor. Fortunately – on normal days. But this year's ninth of January was no longer a normal day. The moment they spotted him, a number of Slytherins started to cheer, yelling their wishes up at him, which made all heads turn to the angry mass of black waves and pale skin stomping to his seat. Some teachers threw concerned looks at him, including Dumbledore, who rather hung in his thronelike chair. The holidays had weakened him much. However, there was one who made a foreseeable mistake.

"A very happy – ", Slughorn sang but broke off immediately when Severus' head slowly turned to him, only his left eye peering past the black veil of hair.

Some students looked away with subdued giggles. Gnashing his teeth behind his slightly parted lips, he gave Slughorn a look that clearly said noting but ` _shut up right now or you will find yourself cut in pieces, each bottled in a different glass in my office_ ´, emphasized by pale fingers one after another tightly wrapping around his knife on the table. Literally scared to death, Slughorn continued eating hastily.

Not taking his eyes of him but watching his own moves in the corner of his left eye, Severus raised his hand to cut a tomato casserole in a terrine in front of him, placing the knife on the edge of his plate then, and shovelled a serving onto his plate. Only then he would turn his head to his meal, but not without letting the same expression drift directly over to Hermione. Blushing heavily, she did as Slughorn, hating herself for her idiocy until both of them had finished eating almost concurrent. She also couldn't miss actual disgust in Charity Burbage's face. She hadn't only ruined all his further birthdays, now she wasn't sure whether she could ever count on his best female friend again.

Severus raised without having spoken a word and walked around the staff table, straight down to her. He didn't look at her now, though snapped a line she wouldn't accept just like this. Not even after what she had done.

"Twenty points off Gryffindor for ignoring my order to dress properly and for ruining an otherwise peaceful day, Miss Granger."

"Fifty points off the staff for you seem to have forgotten the words I said at New Year's Eve.", she had jumped up, making him stop and even the last head in the hall looked at her in deafening silence.

"Pardon?", Severus slowly turned around, raising his left eyebrow.

"You have understood me very well, _Professor_."

"And you are aware though, that there is something like – rules? Or has Miss Weasley gone mad at you again?"

"First, let Ginny out of that, Sir, and second, those rules laid down by a person incapable of keeping their toes within safety, likewise?", she had learned from his way of phrasing and emphasising, as well as how to throw the same bone-chilling looks as he could, yet it seemed she was unsuccessful.

"But apparently, they appear to have _not_ decided to completely ignore those rules.", he remained untouched.

"Nor, have, I."

"Forgive me, but I am under a slightly different impression.", his second eyebrow rose, forming a look of immense boredom. "As good as you believe some of your intentions to be, Miss Granger, considering consequences a little earlier before wailing over them would be a great advice to put down on your imaginary list of wisdoms. Detention. Today. Nine o'clock. And make sure you are wearing something that _can_ be called a school uniform. Otherwise those consequences in the matter might be beyond good and evil.", he rushed around.

"Wouldn't seven o'clock be better, so you could prepare for the load of work ahead you are supposed to do for Madam Sprout, _Sir_?", Severus turned back.

"It is not for you to make conditions, Miss Granger. Especially not in your very inauspicious position. But _if_ you truly are so desperately seeking for punishment; seven o'clock, my office. I am sure, Mr O'Nelly and you will get along very well and _maybe_ both of you will find sorting Runespoor eggs by size to be a lot more entertaining – _in company_."

Hermione watched him storm out, up and away to his classroom. Still all eyes drilling into her; her bag becoming heavy on her left shoulder; she finally left the embarrassing situation for the Gryffindor tower, knowing that she had indeed gone too far.

~~#~~

The distant chime of the big bell. Seven o'clock. The Dungeons. A dark old door. Four knocks. The door opened. Framed by usual black, his hair freshly washed, the cold pale face stared down on her. Was it disappointment? Hermione wasn't sure. He stepped aside to let her in. Different jars and silver plates were placed on a table, facing a shelf with glasses of disgusting content. The biggest jar actually contained – Runespoor eggs. Two chairs.

"Severus – ", she aspirated.

"Sit down.", he harshly cut her off; hasty footsteps echoed in the corridor and a familiar Slytherin boy slid to halt outside. "A little late, are we, O'Nelly?"

"Sorry, Professor."

"Save your breath. You hardly have any.", he sneered. "You may join Miss Granger instantly.", Hermione, who wore the trousers again as well as a more comfortable bra and the actual uniform shoes, had already bound her slightly evened hair together and rolled up her sleeves. "Two hours.", he said when they had taken their seats and he closed the door. "By nine o'clock I want all eggs sorted after vague size. The size chart is in front of you. One glass for each category. _No_ talking required."

He sat down behind his desk and started working on some yellow paper folders. Hating herself even more, Hermione picked out the first slimy, slippery yellowish green egg, compared it to the chart and carefully dropped it in the respective numbered jar. Soon she realised that the more eggs she sorted, the more difficult they were to handle and it was hard not to accidentally drop them before they landed where they were supposed to do, or even left the big glass at all. No matter what, she didn't want to risk a glance on Severus.

It felt like it had been five hours, but in fact only one had passed. Both students noticed with relief, that the jar with eggs was half empty by then. They could still make it in time. Though the substance surrounding the eggs was already spread over half their forearms, sticky and smeary. Luckily the eggs didn't have a smell. Though the next sixty minutes dragged on even longer than the first and the last two eggs fell with an exhausted sigh from both. A folder was closed noisily behind. Hermione and the Slytherin turned their heads at once. He had raised, arms crossed, now standing right in front of the sink.

"Out.", a word as cold and sharp as the icicles hanging from the roofs many floors higher.

O'Nelly jumped up and fled through the door that had been opened magically for him by his Head of House. Hermione just sat on her chair, half turned, her dirty arms held up in front. Not the slightest change in his expression. Not when he stared at her for about a minute and not when he lowered his arms and walked over, grabbed her by the elbow.

Curling her lips with tears in the hazel eyes, she let herself be pulled over to the sink. He stuck her arms in, turned up lukewarm water and started washing her arms with a cream coloured soap, standing behind her. She didn't dare to lean back. Even though his carefully rubbing fingers didn't reflect his expression, Hermione couldn't enjoy his touch. Silent tears ran from her eyes when he dried their hands with a towel and she did her best not to give a sound by pressing her lips together. Then she was turned around, finding the anger replaced by sadness.

"If it hadn't been for half of them not meaning their wishes, I would be utterly grateful.", a tender hand wiped off her tears.

"Sev-", a single, soft kiss. "What?", no answer yet. "You – you aren't – "

"How could I be?", a little smile, actually a bit bemused.

" _What?_ ", she pushed him away. "You – no! Severus! You can't be – meaning this!"

"What did you expect? Torture?"

"No – I – ", she ran a hand over her still bound hair.

"I had to say yes, knowing you would be done in time together. Otherwise _we_ would have _no_ time! I needed him to do that. After all he stunned a flying owl while he was supposed to be in class, and I hadn't gotten to sort them in months! I couldn't have lived with letting him go before that glass was sorted and it would have taken him quite a number of evenings. You noticed very well that you did most of the work. Now get back to your senses, Hermione.", he sunk against his desk, only staring at her for some moments. "What were you actually thinking by running around like this?", he chuckled.

"I – don't know.", a slightly embarrassed smirk with a sniff left her. "I considered I might just pull Ron's attention off Lavender and in the same moment I thought I should grant you a laugh."

"You succeeded.", he returned her kind of smile. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not burst away when you entered? I owe you deep respect for that show. Though – _please_ – never, ever, do something like this again."

"I will burn the shoes tomorrow. At last. They're a pure nightmare.", he couldn't avoid laughing, though still a little awkwardly and his look drifted over to the empty fireplace.

"If you wish; but you _are_ aware that you will be a great topic and long-time reference for examples of a – I better not say.", he sighed.

"Yeah. I should be arrested for that stupidity.", she dropped her head, but saw him reaching out for her. "What?"

"Come to me.", he gave her a heart-warming smile; she stepped closer, letting her hand be taken.

"I'm sorry."

"What for.", he loosened her uniform tie and opened the visible buttons of her blouse. "First, you don't need to have it that straight. And second, as I said, it was actually a very overwhelming experience. I have never heard so many people wishing me a Happy Birthday, even though, as I said, not half of them meant it. But that doesn't matter. So, what are you sorry for?"

"Okay, I – I mean, I knitted you a scarf and smuggled half a bowl of chocolate cream out of the Great Hall for Christmas, but I don't have a birthday present for you!", she moaned. "Well, now it's out. Confession made."

"And what is this, that I just started to unwrap?", he lightly winked.

"You – ", Hermione moaned after a second. "You!", she slackly hammered her left hand against his chest. " _You!_ ", another smack. "You foul, wayward Pygmy Puff!"

"Since when am I small and fluffy?", he chuckled. "And what happened to the Grindylow I used to be?"

"Shut up.", the girl mumbled with another moan, taking his face in her hands and leant her forehead to his.

"Would you like to be my birthday present?", Severus whispered and placed a tiny kiss on her lips.

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

"Why is that so wonderful for you?", she grumbled.

"Because you are what I need for tonight, perhaps?"

"Don't say that like you meant it."

"And what if I – probably _do_ mean it?"

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm stupid.", Hermione sighed.

"No. You are one of the most intelligent young women I ever met and, to be honest, sometimes you really remind me of myself. Or rather, what I should have been like if it hadn't been for the fact that something always goes terribly wrong in my brain."

"That's unfair now. I want to disagree with you, but I can't, because that would mean it is right of you to love such a flipping idiot as I am."

"Even idiots need some love, one of the kindest hearts once told me. So, thank you for loving me."

He laid his arms around her and pulled his wand from his sleeve. Pointing it exactly at the lock of the door behind without looking, sealing the room.

~~#~~

"You should end it, you know?"

"But how?", Ginny wept.

"I don't know. I never had a boyfriend. But I know that you are strong. If you really want, you can end it. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Luna – "

"It also hurts Hermione to see you like this, even if she doesn't tell."

"Luna I – "

"It hurts Harry.", there was no further response, but the gasp was proof enough. "Do yourself a favour and end it.", she took Ginny's hands.

"She has got a right point on this,", the Fat Lady sang.

"Oh shut it.", Ginny chuckled, making the portrait blink.

"You should eat some chocolate before you go to bed. Just a tiny bit. It always helps me when I'm sad. But don't overuse it. It won't work anymore then."

"Okay."

"Good night."

"Yeah. Goodnight. And – thank you."

"Any time.", Luna smiled when Ginny let go and wanted to enter.

"Would you – ", Ginny moaned. "Oh _come_ on! _Abstinence_ , you foul hag."

"At least you got it right.", the Fat Lady sighed and swung open.

"What about you, Luna? It's almost ten. What if you get caught? I mean, it's not far in distance, but Filch and Snape are everywhere."

"Oh don't worry. Professor Snape seems to be missing his shift today. I haven't seen him at his starting point at the time and he is always on schedule, _if_ he does the shift. And Filch is actually a kind man, if you know how to treat him. Good night, Ginevra.", she hopped downstairs with a short wave back.

"G'night."

The portrait swung shut behind Ginny and Luna continued her hopping, into the corridor leading to the Ravenclaw tower. There was the light of a lantern around the corner. The caretaker came scuffing, an epic sneer on his face when he spotted the girl.

"Now, now, now. Who do we have here?"

"Good evening, Mr Filch.", she smiled when she hopped by.

"Not so fast, kiddie."

"Oh I need to, you know? Otherwise I might be caught out of bed.", she stopped and smiled back to him.

"Cheeky little brat. That calls for trouble."

"I don't think so,", she pointed her wand at him, still with a happy smile. "Good night, Mr Filch. Confundo."

"Good night, Miss Lovegood!"

He grinned awkwardly and walked towards the moving stairs, muttering to himself like usual. Not dropping her smile, Luna turned and hopped on, in direction of her House.

~~#~~

Fire was burning in the chimney. A big bag sat in the corner next to a table with some jars, filled with tiny yellowish green eggs. Yellow paper folders on the desk, a red and golden yellow tie atop. On the other side of the desk, a black lavallière. An equally black mass laid on the floor between chair and desk. On the chair, a dark grey vest. In the middle of the space between desk, fireplace and a half opened shelf-door, a black robe with many silver clasps.

Black half shoes. Another black shoe, but larger. Further into the next room, it's brother. Dim light coming from a half lit chandelier above. Two pairs of socks, a black and a grey one. A white shirt and blouse, mingled to a single heap – not easy to be differed. Black trousers forming an uneven line.

A small wooden casket and an opened envelope next to an old black alarm clock, the only objects on a chest of drawers. A black wand lying beneath. The lowest drawer still slightly opened. Not visible, a framed photo of a smiling woman inside. A lilac hair tie lying next to a light blue bra. The matching underpants, thrown to the other side of the room. Hanging from the top of a bookshelf, white underpants.

Messed brown hair stuck out of a white blanket, mixed with some bundles of black. A muffled giggling, followed by moans of pleasure from beneath the blanket, the shapes of two heads cognisable. The rest of their bodies was a single range down to the foot of the bed. The range moved. More black hair coming in sight.

Gasping for breath, Hermione pushed off the blanket with a laugh. The end she had thrown, came to lie a bit above his waist. Two high peaked mountains rose to each side of his hips. The fingers of his right hand gliding down her left arm, they smiled at each other.

"Will you finally tell me what's in that box? Or why did you put it there?"

"Please don't laugh."

"Why?"

"He is such an imbecile."

"I know. So, what's in the box? Or in the letter?", he summoned the envelope by holding his right hand in its direction and gave it to her so she could finally read the letter. "` _Safe and sound_ ´? What the h– what does he mean?", Severus snatched the letter and envelope from her hands, dropped them on the floor and let the casket soar to him in the same manner.

"Please.", he held it up high when she wanted to grab it already. "Please don't laugh."

"I'll try my best.", Hermione smirked, took the casket and slowly opened it, lifting her head a bit so she could look inside. "Oh my goodness!", she slammed the casket shut and opened it again. "Wha-?"

"I said it; he's an idiot."

"How many are these?", she moaned and started to count vaguely.

"If we need one every second day, we will reach half-time at around Easter. Exactly one hundred. Yes, I counted them. Twice."

"Oh holy Flabbergasted Leech.", sighed Hermione. "Has he nothing better to do?"

"As I said, he cares for me, in ways,", he though couldn't fully hold back an emerging grin on her words.

"But he doesn't know it's me?"

"I don't think, he did. He has never seen your Patronus, has he?"

"Not that I know."

"So I don't think he knew who the otter dancing with the doe is, but after your protest at lunch, I assume he has an idea who _she_ is now."

"And he didn't intervene?"

"Horace didn't either, now did he? Don't look at me like that. I haven't confunded him."

"I wish you had _at least_. I'm still afraid that he might talk about it when being drunk."

"Would anyone believe him?", Severus frowned languid.

"Hmm. Hopefully not. Um – so – do – "

"Yes?"

"I don't know how to – um – will we – "

"Spit it out,", he smiled mischievously.

"Don't be so mean.", she groaned. "I – Severus! Smiling like that doesn't make it easier! Now – damn it! Stop smiling!", he chuckled with a grin. "Am I really looking that – _cute_ – when I – ?"

"No, but horrendously sweet.", Hermione sighed again.

"Now – will we?", she moaned.

"Only if you want.", his smile calmed down.

"Have – have you used them before?", Severus couldn't help laughing.

"Did you think, Lily got pregnant at our first time?"

"No – I just – were they even invented?"

"The first ones have been used in the fifteenth century somewhere in Asia, with proven evidence. In the nineteenth century they were made of rubber and first latex ones were produced in the twenties. Of course those we had back then weren't as safe as the most recent, but _yes_ , I know how to use them."

"For having had sex with only one woman, many years ago, you know quite a lot about condoms.", Hermione frowned.

"I like to read, remember?"

"Ha, ha, ha. Um – will it hurt?"

"How should _I_ know?", Severus still grinned, dropping his head. "Hermione.", he gave her a soft kiss. "Just tell me then, all right?"

"Okay.", she giggled, blushing.

"And please.", another kiss. "As much as I like to hear your voice, please stop talking."

~~#~~


	24. Chapter 23 - Bottled Vapour

– Chapter 23 –

 **Bottled Vapour**

"Oh Miss Granger! There you are!", Professor Flitwick sighed.

"Sorry, Sir. I fell asleep In the library and just woke up fifteen minutes ago!", her always-best-excuse for not having been in the right dormitory or even in bed as well as having missed breakfast; it had worked for many years and never failed, especially since it had really happened some times. "It seems, Madam Pince actually has a talent for overlooking me."

"Very well, Miss Granger. Take your seat and try to be awake then."

"Good morning,", Harry smirked under his breath.

"Good morning.", Hermione whispered back.

"Honestly, you shouldn't overdo yourself. A half grade down doesn't hurt."

"Says someone who almost fails at Snape's D.A.D.A. lessons though having fought one of the most evil and most powerful wizards of all time!", she hissed very quiet. "If you concentrated more on the tasks than letting your brain shout out the oddest cheeks, you might even keep your O.", yes, she was back.

"That man _hates_ me. No matter what I do, he'd never give me an O."

"Depends on the _way_ you try to reach the goal. Give him no reason to reward you with any other mark."

"How many times do I have to tell you that _it doesn't matter_! He will _always_ find something to complain about."

" _Then be cleverer than him!_ "

"You two should better pay attention,", Susan Bones whispered, sitting left to Hermione.

"I know how to produce and control fire without speaking.", Hermione waved her off. "You just need to want it. That's all."

"Anyway – what was that yesterday?", Harry continued. "How was that supposed to bring Ron on different thoughts? He didn't even notice – your – erm – boobs. And you got yourself detention with Snape!"

"Well, it was all tactic. I helped someone who managed to stun a flying owl from a very big distance to get out of that office much earlier."

"Oh how kind of you.", Harry sneered. "Snape must have loved it. Killing two birds with one stone. And that guy was a _Slytherin_!"

"There are also some not so bad Slytherins, you know?"

"What?"

"Oh forget it."

"Question – was it really his birthday?"

"Yes.", she didn't change her fierce tone.

"How come you be sure?"

"It _really_ was his birthday,", Hermione snapped.

"Honestly? How do you always find out such things?"

"Because, for example, I can fully pay attention to Flitwick even while I talk to you. Get out your wand, concentrate and try not to burn the ceiling.", in fact, everyone else had already taken out their wands without Harry noticing it.

"I don't know what, but something's different.", he said, getting his wand ready.

"What should be different?"

"If I think about it, your eyes – they – changed – somehow."

"Eyes cannot change."

"No – if I say – there's something different with your eyes. I can understand that thing with your skin – it helps, you know? I tried it and it does somehow. But there is definitely something different about your eyes now."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm not silly – "

"Shut up and practise."

~~#~~

The sound of bubbling liquid in cauldrons and a disgusting smell filled the air in the Potions classroom. A brown and golden mass wandered through the rows, taking glimpses at each cauldron. Normally he didn't do that. Harry feared he would spot the notes in the Half-Blood Prince's book. Every now and then, looks were thrown at Hermione, accompanied by whispers. She ignored them though. Her potion was about to become a solid green lump. A worried look on his face, Slughorn moved past and on to Harry, who was panicking. Though something happened he wouldn't have guessed. It was like someone saving his life. Strangely, that person had already done it before, though Harry still had no idea why actually. And this time, the saviour for sure hadn't intended to do so.

The door swung open, making all heads jerk in its direction. With wide steps and waving black cloak he stormed in, marching straight towards one of the jar-filled shelves. The pockets of his robe were obviously stuffed with little glasses.

"Severus!", Horace beamed. "What a surprise! Is there anything I – "

"Just ignore me.", he responded coldly, his right hand searching over the labels on the vessels.

"Can I help you?"

"Actually, yes.", he raised an eyebrow, staring at the glasses in front of him. "Have you altered my order?"

"Ah well, I arranged them the way I had them before. Your alphabetical sorting is nothing for my old brain. I need categories. Do you look for something in particular?"

" _Some_ particular things I ran out but which I recall to have left emergency refills in here and – you see, this is an emergency. I don't have much time. Is it exactly the same sorting?"

"I – I think so – "

He took everything from his pockets and placed the glasses and phials hastily on the teacher's desk, pushing some papers aside. Yet everything stood as neatly in line as though somebody had spent hours moving the glasses exactly in place.

Holding his left hand into the room, a small empty copper cauldron came flying towards him. He caught it easily, put it down and lightened the fire below with a snap. Some more things flew through the room, students ducking unnecessarily: a bigger bowl which he magically filled with clear water, a sharp silver knife, mortar and pestle and a cutting board. He then poured some more water into the cauldron and slightly closed his eyes, trying to remember his school time.

"Tell me and I will – ", Slughorn was shushed by a demanding hand when the right memory cleared.

" _We aren' s'pposed ter be in 'ere. Ye know 'e'll ask questions, if 'e returns."_ , he heard himself saying, his voice a lot higher.

" _Look at that, Sev!",_ Lily, aged twelve, stood in front of a shelf, staring at some small corked glasses. _"I wonder what they are for – can you read this?"_

His eyes shot open, rushing towards a window-side shelf. He hurried over, passing confused students. Hair and cloak spinning as he stopped, his eyes came to rest on a specific glass. Another. And a third he needed. Taking all three, he looked back into the room. It was there. It was all there. The students seemed to have vanished for him. Storming around, he picked more glasses of the weirdest looking ingredients, making some of those vanished students jump aside with gasps. Back at the desk, the water was boiling already.

Watched by the marvelled class, he started cutting and grinding plants, squeezing liquid out of the most curious things and more, all in a speed not even his old teacher had seen him doing yet.

"Professor Slughorn?", Hermione asked in an attempt to take the attention off Severus, secondly, in hope he might be able to fill one of her gaps in knowledge that had just popped into her consciousness.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I wondered whether you could tell us some more about the druid Cliodna?", she gave the substance in her cauldron a very necessary stir. "When I read about the Polyjuice Potion, it says that her sister invented it – but I couldn't find anything more on the matter. Not even her sister's name."

"That is correct, Miss Granger. Cliodna and her sister, forgive me, I don't know her name either – "

"Meadhbh."

"Bless you, Severus."

"I didn't sneeze, Meadhbh was her name.", he snapped; a number of girls giggled subdued.

"Ah, thank you. Well, Cliodna and – er – Mayve –

"Meadhbh.", grunted Severus.

"Yes, yes. They were descendants of a very gifted family of druids. The Dunnahars.", Hermione could catch Severus squinting and a quiet huff as though a Dragon had snored a mile away and she knew Slughorn had pronounced that name wrongly as well. "They lived until the Medieval times – but, and I can perfectly see where this lack of further information could reside in, they unfortunately died out then. What a – "

"They had mixed with the Peverells.", Severus said, though sounding rather absent since he was busy.

None of the students had ever witnessed him brewing something. With trained routine, he put ingredient after ingredient into the cauldron and stirred the liquid magically, not taking out his wand. After every use he washed the tools in the bowl and renewed the water. Hermione pricked up her ears a second after the hope had already meant to leave her in a sigh, which got caught.

"Did they, Severus?", frowned Slughorn.

"Yes. And the only woman who had been left of those, had married the member of another Pure-Blood family. Therefore both names vanished. Sometimes compromises have to be made, you see?"

"If that is true, then you know more than I do!", Slughorn had come around and stared at the ingredients as well as the cauldron.

"Then Grindelwald came and killed most of the rest. Only one; again; survived at last. But that _one_ married a Muggle. End of story.", he sighed.

"Severus – is this what I think?"

"What else would it be?", he murmured back.

"But – you cannot add all that so fast!"

"You just found me doing it,"

"Slow it down, please! You're going to kill us all! This potion needs a month of almost constant watch to work!"

"You might want trying to understand, that I unfortunately don't have a month. I need it latest in five minutes because I would still have to leave the barrier and Apparate away."

"Five? Are you kidding? That is impossible!"

"Stop telling me what I can do or what not and better take care none of _our students_ kill us. Some of those unfinished horrors are acting very dangerously already."

"Huh? Good gracious, Mr Finnigan! Throw in your rattail pieces before you get us all blown up! Blimey!", Seamus nervously woke up from his trance, like many others, panicking looks at their cauldrons. "But Severus – please – no one has ever done this in less than a month!"

"Then watch me being the first.", he smirked, visibly not very pleased about the thought either.

"I know you have been a very ambitious student and you surely know what you do, _normally_. But this is insane! Simply insane!"

"How wicked happy, happy life is, isn't it? Seeing all your assumed fortune with _one of your students_ crumbling before your eyes, aren't you? Don't worry, it's not my intention to kill either of us. Even just imagining his mother's rage when we arrive on the other side – "

"My goodness – you aren't supposed to take four drops!"

"I need it as strong as possible to make it work in such a time."

"But it could kill – "

"Ha, ha.", he said boredly.

"What?"

"Exactly. Now you are surprised."

"That is the state of week two! Exactly the state! It is – all there! _How!_ ", Slughorn shook his head in disbelief. "But – you would still need about another week until you could add – ", he faced a silencing hand.

"Christ, haven't you just said it yourself? Let me think, will you?", Severus hissed resentful.

Spider-like, his fingers rushed between the vessels of ingredients on the desk, further up as though moving along some imaginary lines and connections, his narrowed eyes following. He shook his right hand at some point, as if crossing something out and went back down a bit in the air in front of him, giving the potion a waving stir in between.

"Shall I give you a paper?"

"No.", Severus snarled impatient. "You know that I never needed to write down effect diagrams."

He continued his moves for some seconds, gave the cauldron a glance and hurried over to another two shelves, picking three additional glasses, one containing a rather odd looking, green, rat-alike dead animal, missing batches of hair. The other things were some sort of plants. He cut a bit off each, put them into the mortar along with a single hair of the animal, grinded everything and filled a small phial with it, adding a bit of his unfinished potion. This way he made four more probes, always increasing the number of hairs. Then he gave the whole stand with the phials a shake and watched the reaction for some seconds, his hand rotating over the cauldron for stirring. Even Slughorn bent down and studied the phials with interest. Before he could say a word, Severus mixed some more, clearly taking the third phial as reference.

"That indeed speeds it up!", Slughorn aspirated, eyes still resting on the middle phial. "Those – matching – I – I would have never thought – never tried – never dared to experiment like this on such a dangerous potion as – what is it? What do you need now?"

Severus stared over to a shelf in a corner. His eyes flicked around in a circle then, thinking. Lips slightly apart, he gazed into the cauldron and back at the shelf, where he hurried to after giving the potion another wave. Everyone eyed him as he picked a single glass and did the same with it what he had done with the shelf it had stood on.

"Severus?", Slughorn raised and eyebrow.

Everyone's eyes hung on the younger teacher who grinded his teeth, frowning. A last look on the glass and he took out one of the red feathers. The glass back in the shelf, he sped to the cauldron and examined the feather another time.

" _What by all warthogs in the world are you doing!_ ", Slughorn bellowed at the single Phoenix feather falling in and mixing with the liquid as if nothing had happened.

"Just shut it, yes?", Severus grunted. "We don't know, we don't spread news we don't understand anyway."

"But – "

"Tell all of my today's students that their lessons won't take place.", Severus said serious and calm again when he added the missing rest and gave it all a massive stir. "And make sure they don't spread their joy about free periods."

"Where are you _actually_ going?"

"You know where to find my timetable. Tell them and assure them of the importance that none other must know about it. No whispers on the matter. Not in a single cubic inch of this whole solar system. If any of them should secretly come from another planet, tell them they are forbidden to mention it in any way there as well."

"Pardon?", Slughorn just stared at Severus who had started to fill the already finished, crystal clear potion into empty bottles he had summoned from a big chest in the back of the room.

"But surely Albus – ", just one noticed Draco Malfoy pinching his eyes in the corner, clutching the fingers of his left hand in the same moment as Severus, who didn't show any other reaction than a restrained, concerned short glance at the boy. "Would like to know why you cancel your lessons and disappear with a load of a world record – "

"No. He will get to know when I return. In the meantime, you must swear to make the students keep silent about it."

"Sir?", Malfoy asked out loud.

"Yes, m'boy?", Slughorn had heard him.

"May I go to the bathroom?"

"If you are done with – "

"I am."

"Very well. Slack the fire then.", he did as said and hurried out of the still opened classroom door.

"Horace?"

"Huh?"

"Have you understood me?", Severus pulled out his pouch; which he had put into the pocket of his trousers so he wouldn't reveal the usual hiding place; enlarged it and stored his glasses of ingredients along with the bottles he had just filled.

"Yes, yes."

"Good."

A wave of his left hand and the supplies cleaned on their own, as well as the glasses he had taken, flew back to their shelves. With a look at the class, giving Hermione a split second more attention, he took a few steps backwards, turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, dematerialising to fog when he was out of sight. Draco waited at the stairs. Severus reached out and picked him up, flying him invisibly through the castle and over the school grounds. There was a humming sound when he opened a hole in the invisible barrier; being able to since he was one of the creators; and Apparated with Draco the moment it had safely closed behind.

Now walking, they approached an old manor, seemingly deserted.

"What's that potion for?", Draco asked.

"The Dark Lord requested it."

"Requested?"

"Well, before you found me storming that classroom, he contacted me, asked for a large amount of it and mentioned I would have ten minutes for getting it until he would summon us all. Unfortunately I had not any of it left in a year and I know from experience that there are not enough stores in the entire world to get me a cauldronful of it, especially not fresh."

"I guess, he knows it would take a month to make it?"

"Quite certainly, yes. You see, the Dark Lord knows to put my skills to test and finds high pleasure in my success. And to be honest, so do I.", they had reached the large front gate.

"Already here, Severus? And bringing young Draco?", an atrocious laugh greeted them. "Kind of you putting more importance in our Master's desires. I hope the students weren't disappointed that their teacher ran away,"

"I had a free hour, Bellatrix.", Severus countered with a murderous look. "And I cancelled all my today's lessons, if that is enough to please you. Step aside so we can enter. You know very well that the Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting and it would be a _great_ loss if I had to blow you out of the way just to be on time.", Bellatrix's grin froze and she did as ordered, watching them walk straight through the doorway, utmost uneasy about having been told off by someone younger than her.

The entrance hall was dark. Thick clouds on the sky, letting no light through and the windows covered with ivy, did their best to the ominous atmosphere inside the manor. Trails in the dust on the grand wooden staircase to the upper floors were the only evidence of living beings having moved up and down.

Quivering orange light came from the huge dining hall on the first floor. The old dark table had been cleaned, eleven noble chairs surrounded it. In front of each, laid an empty sheet of parchment. Wearing a long black cloak, the bold man stood at the end of the hall, watching the fire dance. Behind them, the rest of the summoned Death Eaters climbed the stairs. His hissing voice was raised when they had lined up at the entrance of the hall, Severus and Draco in the middle.

"It truly pleases me to see you arrived earliest, Severus.", he said, facing them then, a nondescript glow in his cold eyes. "Do you have what I have asked for?"

Severus took the bottles from his pouch, sending them to him through the air. Staying floating in front of him, he examined them. Obvious surprise caught him when he picked one.

"It is still hot!", the cold, emotionless expression in Severus' face didn't change. "You always manage to outdo yourself, congratulations.", with a gentle wave of Voldemort's hand, the bottles landed on the mantelpiece, aligned perfectly. "Now why don't we all take a seat?", he sat down on the front chair like a king and waited for his followers to emulate his deeds. "It is likely that you wonder, why I gathered the few of you. But before I tell you this, I have a simple question for our youngest. Draco – how far have you come at what I requested from you? I got to know that your little try to take a shortcut – failed?"

"Yes, my Lord.", Draco answered, slight trembling in his voice. "But I will do better; the task you entrusted me with is still in progress, though has a great chance to work."

"Is that so? Can you confirm his stuttering in all conscience, Severus?"

"I can, my Lord. He is doing very well now."

"Good.", a long, low sneer. "Now that was all I needed from you, Draco. Forgive me, but I wanted to hear it from you personally. You may wait downstairs for your teacher to take you back."

"Yes, my Lord.", the boy raised and left without hesitation, but squinting his eyes when he leant against a wall down in the entrance hall, close to tears.

"Now, all of you may have noticed these sheets in front of you,", he snapped with his fingers and different writing appeared on each of the parchments. "These are some things I want to be done by the end of the week. Just a few small tasks that will make it easier for me to plan bigger movements. I shall wait for you to be back here by seven o'clock, Monday morning, only in case you need a little extra time. You will then prove to have succeeded so I can consider how to go on."

"My Lord – ", Bellatrix Lestrange started. "I can see things to be done on all lists around me, however, there are only names on Severus' list."

"Very well spotted.", Voldemort cackled scornfully. "That must be utterly confusing to you, yes. I am certain that you, Severus, know what it means?"

"They are deserters."

"Indeed, yes. You, Severus, will have hunted them all down by the time set. Whether you torture them for their pitiful acts, is on you. The only wish I have is to know them dead. I do not tolerate traitors, you see?"

"Oh.", a played moan from a man in front of him. "Is that name there – Igor Karkaroff? So he faked his death again? But that will be painful for you, won't it? Being the one who has to finally finish him off. After all he's your – _best friend?_ ", laughter broke out among the Death Eaters, but Severus managed to silence them in less than a second.

"Igor has betrayed many of us, Amycus.", he said stern, staring straight into the other man's eyes. "Including me. I do not consider him as a friend."

"Say that again when you show me his dead body, right here, on that table.", Amycus Carrow hissed, drilling his finger into the wood.

" _There will be no need for Severus to drag fifty corpses into this house!_ ", Voldemort barked. "I do not wish to see those filthy turncoats ever again, neither alive, nor dead. A fully meant Killing Curse as the last spell on Severus' wand, showing one of those on the list and the truthful honesty in his eyes shall be enough proof of his resolve. Are there any more questions concerning the tasks I imposed upon each single one of you?", he waited for a reaction, but there was none, only bone-chilling silence. "Good. This would be all until Monday."

Severus was fastest to stand up. He had no idea where to find all those people. They could be anywhere on the earth. Nevertheless he had to find them, whatever the cost. But before he could set foot on the stairs, black fog blocked his way. More of such rushed past them.

"And you think, you can do that?", Bellatrix sneered. "Kill them all?", she added aspirating with utter disbelief, but her grin got stuck when Severus gave her a prodigiously sublime smile and he spoke as calm as if they were talking about where to go for dinner.

"I have killed more than you have ever raised your wand against for a little bit of torture. My first successful Killing Curse I performed at the age of fourteen, a year later I needed no incantation anymore. I could make you tap-dance on the ceiling of the hall behind us without moving a single muscle. Do not question my abilities. You are only the third brightest star around here."

" _Is this a threat?_ ", she was such a nervous kind of a woman that she was boiling already, still he remained unimpressed.

"A fact, Bellatrix. Like the fact that your time is running out. You heard the Dark Lord. Monday morning, seven o'clock. I will be there and I will leave unscathed. Go fry an egg. Maybe it propitiates him, in case you should fail. If you excuse me, you do not wish your nephew to be late for his next lesson, do you?"

"Tz."

"Get out of my way.", he snarled.

"Or what. Will you push me down the stairs?", cackled Bellatrix.

"I will string you up on the tree outside by your own hair.", strands of them slowly glided around her neck and her eyes were filled with horror instantly – her heavy breath was still thundering in his ears when he had already left her several yards behind.

"Severus may be more than a decade younger than you,", he heard Voldemort's hissing voice, "But he as well knows how to play with his food. You rather believe his words, as you might indeed find yourself high above the ground. You are a good servant. It would be a pity if I had to call him back for writing another name onto his list, or do it latest at _Monday_ , _seven_ o'clock, in the _morning_."

Downstairs, Severus grabbed Draco's arm, dragged him out of the house and through the gate and Apparated to an empty back alley of Hogsmeade before he would be forced to get any more looks on either of the two. From there, they flew up to the castle and landed at the wall in front of the Slytherin common room. A little fierce, he wiped the tears off Draco's crumpled face.

"Now don't let those be seen.", he whispered, his voice filled with concern. "Go back to your lessons. And for Heaven's sake – take a rest over the weekend. I won't be there to even out your childish mistakes."

"Where are you going, Sir?"

"The Dark Lord entrusted me with a task as well. A very challenging one, but rather like you, I know what to do and how. Just – take care of yourself."

In a whirl of vanishing fog, Severus was gone.

~~#~~

"I mean, what was this about? Storming into the class, brewing some strange potion in no time that's supposed to take a month and rushing off again?", Harry murmured, stomping up the inner stairs of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione running after him. "And wanting us to shut up on it? And what was that thing with the feather?"

"Give it a rest, Harry. He said clearly that we aren't to talk about it.", she panted.

"And have you seen Malfoy? Don't you think it's strange that he suddenly needs to go to the loo? He never did before a lesson ended."

"Ridiculous, Harry. Just ridiculous.", she shook her head. "That doesn't say anything."

"But I saw his face!", Harry rushed around, stopping in place, making Hermione almost run into him. "I bet his Mark burnt.", he symbolically pointed on his left forearm, so hard he knew immediately he would keep a bruise from it. "He didn't return, if you should have missed that. His bag was still in the classroom as well, when we left. So he didn't sneak in for it."

"Maybe he went to get it later."

"And Snape clutched his fingers at the same moment!", Harry raged. "They've been summoned!"

"You still don't even have proof that Malfoy is branded.", Hermione sighed.

" _And if I have to rip off his entire uniform during lunch!_ ", he hissed at her. " _I will get that proof!_ "

"The only thing you will get is trouble!"

Harry climbed up the last steps to the door and tore it open, stepping out into the cold air he was longing for. He just wanted to calm down and think. Hermione's stubbornness concerning Snape's innocence was too much for him. The evidence was there. He only needed to find something to convince her. The gangplank rattling under his heavy feet, he hurried to the metal stairs, stopping right before them. Again, Hermione almost crashed into his back. There was a voice upstairs. A girl was singing. For a while he just gazed up, listening. She actually had a beautiful, soft voice, Harry thought.

"B hò, b hò.", at first he had thought it was one of the ghosts.

"You hear that?", he whispered.

"Yes.", Hermione aspirated. "Very hard not to catch."

"B hò, bà i ò ho bà.", some strange, tickling sensation ran through every inch of his body. "Cha bhi mise bhuat.", he didn't know why, but the song – the melody – the words he didn't really understand – it seemed so familiar – he felt warmth. "Cha bhi mise bhuat.", warm, protective arms holding him. "Cha bhi mise bhuat.", he felt small in those arms, but safe. "Mach air uair no dhà."

"That must be – "

"Sh!", he cut Hermione off.

"B hò, b hò.", somehow the song made him tired. "B hò, bà i ò ho bà.", slowly, fearing he would fall asleep right away, he started climbing the stairs. "Caidil thusa luaidh.", a bit clumsy, he moved further upstairs, Hermione on his heels. "Caidil thusa luaidh.", the voice became a bit louder with every foot they drew closer. "Caidil thusa luaidh.", they had reached the topmost platform now. "Is na gluais gu là.", there she stood, her blond hair waving in the soft cold wind, looking over the snowy grounds. "B hò, b hò.", still he did not know why it felt like home to him. "B hò, bà i ò ho bà.", some seconds of silence, then she turned around to them, obviously having heard them coming.

"That – was beautiful – ", Hermione breathed.

"Thank you.", Luna smiled. "What is it, Harry? You look so – absent."

"I – I don't know – that – I think I – heard that before – somewhere – ", he scratched his neck, not noticing he did. "What's it called?"

"Oh I don't know. But it's a Scottish lullaby. Mum used to sing it for me.", Harry nodded. "Maybe your mother sang it as well?"

"No – it – was a deep voice – "

"Then, your Dad, perhaps?"

"I – ", could that be? "Is it really possible I remember – "

"There are many things kept in our memory.", Luna said and he was reminded of his involuntary excursions to his own memory last year – as well as – "Nothing is really forgotten, you know? We just need to come across something that reawakens the memory."

~~#~~


	25. Chapter 24 - Undertaking

– Chapter 24 –

 **Undertaking**

A dead cold filled the glasshouse the sixth-years stood in, waiting, tired, freezing. Almost each of them tried a different way to keep themselves alive. Their winter cloaks for Herbology were warm, but not warm enough. After his entrance in their Potions lesson on Friday, some of them had gained a little more respect for Severus Snape. Though it seemed to them that they would wait in vain to see what he would be like when temporarily replacing Madam Sprout. For now, they only stood around the empty group of tables in the middle, talking to each other and rubbing different parts of their bodies or hopping from one foot to the other while yawning. Those who could, squeezed themselves around Hermione, who had her wand held up to the point of losing the blood in her fingers, so she could fill the place with a constant stream of warm air.

Almost instantly, silence fell over them and Hermione's arm dropped when the glass door was pushed open at quarter past eight in the morning of that Monday and a mass of black came in, closing the door behind. On his right arm, a single green folder. To; mostly; Parvati Pail's surprise, the scarf he wore was not purple but black as well. Slowly people noticed an additional touch of black around his eyes. It had been a long time since he had stopped using eyeliner. Actually, he hadn't done it since his early teaching days. But the last week had been a week of change and he had personally felt the need to emphasize it, mainly for himself. Things were going onwards and he had considered it right to put on some war paint. However, it put the boot into his current state.

Apart from the make-up, he had dark circles around his eyes and was paler than ever. He hadn't shaved since Friday morning and his hair was as greasy as it had usually been during the first years he had been their teacher. Hermione wasn't the only one to be shocked about seeing him like this. If it hadn't been for his clean clothes, he could have been taken for an escapee from a very bad homeless shelter.

In defiance of the fact that he looked like he hadn't slept in a century, his expression was as cold and unwavering as the air Hermione hadn't been able to change, although it wouldn't reach the visible depths of his eyes on that day.

"Mr Macmillan,", he addressed the Hufflepuff, holding the folder towards him, "Would you hand out those corrected essays?"

"Yes, Professor.", the boy did as ordered and everyone took a look at their sheets, some with a lot of actual surprise.

"You have two minutes to read through. Then I want them packed and your full attention."

The full attention after his words were on Susan Bones and Parvati Patil though, who let out a squeal. A mouse had run through between their feet, directly towards where Severus stood. He quickly got out his wand but Hermione was faster. A thin jet of red light hit the rodent and it fell to its tiny feet. Raising an eyebrow, he watched it taking off into the air and landing on the table, directed by Hermione's wand. She tapped the mouse three times and it turned into a goblet. Everyone had completely forgotten their essays by then.

Hermione went into the neighbouring glasshouse, returning with a handful of well selected different leaves. She put them onto a thin paper that she had torn from a notebook she carried in her bag. Carefully she placed the paper with the leaves on the goblet, pressed it a bit inside and pointed her wand at the centre of the hollow. A little flash and the leaves were nothing but crumbs. Then a stream of steaming water came from the tip of her wand, soaking the crumbs and the paper.

Still wordless, she took off the wet sheet, threw it into the green waste bin, picked up the goblet and carried it around some of her classmates. With a slight sigh, he slouched his shoulders and tried to avoid any eyes when he received the goblet she now offered him. A short glimpse inside and he took a small sip of the soothing tea, everyone staring at the two. Yet a bit hesitantly, Hermione started speaking at last.

"If you would like to, Sir,", she said as calm as she could, "You may sit down on that bench there. Madam Sprout has told us all we need to know and I believe everyone of us is mature enough to follow her orders without further ado."

"Hermione – ", she heard Padma Patil whisper.

"Why don't all of you show some humanity and let our teacher rest? You can see that he obviously hasn't slept a minute over the weekend.", she faced the small class, very much like he would do under normal circumstances. "What are you waiting for? You have been told thoroughly how to cut those madnesses behind you. Take them to the table and start already. The sooner we all can get out of that frozen hell, the better.", no reaction. " _MOVE!_ "

Shocked, her colleagues hastily packed away their essays and did as she said, none of them daring to look at her. None except Harry, who though only gave her a little surprised glance before starting to cut the too long tentacles off his plant.

"'Ow interestin'.", Severus mumbled as he sat down on the bench behind him, taking another sip.

Finally time for a worried look, Hermione's eyes stared into the hollow dark ones that moved up to hers. Trying to see her properly, he blinked twice, his lips forming a soundless sad ` _Thank you_ ´ after some seconds. She only nodded barely visible and took a plant and scissors as well. Ernie trotted over to their teacher, still holding the now empty folder. His hands shaking a bit, he handed it over and went for a plant himself.

Never in history of their Herbology lessons, any of them had been so silent. Every once in a while, Severus let his tired eyes wander up at the few students he could actually see from his position. Some minutes had passed until he had drank all of the tea and took another gaze around. He put down the goblet to his right and attempted to stand up, but eventually was forced to the bench again. A little surprised about her reaction, not only he stared at Hermione, who had given her wand a flick that had made him sit back down. A withering stare from him, but Hermione only made him understand with a move of her eyebrows that he was to lie down, rather than walking around.

With a snort, he pulled his own wand from his left sleeve, pointed it at the goblet and it immediately became a black cushion. He dropped the empty green folder on the floor, hurled his legs onto the bench, placed his head on the cushion and pulled bits of his cloaks over his face. Sighing, Hermione turned back to her classmates, giving them a quiet hiss.

"Stop staring and go on!"

After some more minutes of silent working, the unavoidable happened and she just wished for any rumour she had meant to spread about the girl's preferences to be of avail immediately: Parvati went over to Hermione, whispering to her.

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know.", Hermione replied honestly, her voice as low as the other's.

"I can't remember having seen him like this ever before."

"Nor do I."

"Curious, not? He storms into our Potions class, breaks a world record by brewing something odd in no time, cancels all his stuff and rushes off like he was on a top secret mission. And three days later he turns up in Sprout's lesson he's supposed to hold, completely exhausted. That's strange, isn't it?"

"Tz. You sound like Harry."

"Hey!", that one hissed, having heard it.

"I know what you mean, but I don't think it's our business. Whatever he had to do was obviously an emergency case, just as he'd said. I bet, the potion was for Sprout herself. Why else would he be so rushed if it wasn't for the life of his colleague? The Healers at St Mungo's must have found out what's wrong with her and asked him for help."

"You think? But that – ", Parvati gave the black heap a glance, "That would mean that she was in real danger!"

"As I said, I don't know. If we ought to find out, I think we will be told anyway. If not, we should keep our noses out of his stuff. After all, he must have a life outside school as well, don't you think?"

"Oh – you mean – there was an emergency case in – his family?"

"Perhaps,"

"Gosh. I just realise I never thought he might actually _have_ family."

"Is it so odd to consider?"

"Somehow, yes. You think he has children? I mean, he's not married, is he? I haven't seen a ring on him, other than those under his eyes – "

"Who knows.", Hermione sighed. "Unless he tells us personally, I don't think we should ask him anything about his private life.", Parvati gave her a strange look. "Yes, that includes wondering about his winter clothes or jewellery he possibly possesses. Honestly, Parvati. You know he can become very rough. Stalking him isn't such a good idea in my opinion."

"Says someone who found out about his birthday. How old has he turned anyway?"

"I don't know.", Hermione lied. "And I accidentally overheard Dumbledore talking about it. Would you mind going back to work now?", huffing, Parvati slouched over to her own pot.

The rest of the double period passed quietly. Everyone was busy cutting the plants, receiving the one or other warning look or hiss from Hermione if their conversations got too loud. The clocks hanging above the two doors of the glasshouse showed them that their lesson was to be over in fifteen minutes. One after another, the students carried the last plants to their compulsory places and started cleaning the scratched old wood. Five minutes later, the tables in the middle looked almost like they had found them.

"Get back to the castle, everyone.", Hermione whispered. "I'll wake him."

"Wake him?", Neville asked. "You really think you can handle that grump, do you?"

"Yes.", she hissed. "Haven't you noticed how I just did? Now get out. All of you. I'll be right there."

Hermione waited for her classmates to be gone and turned to him. She wanted to grant him the sleep but she couldn't leave him there either. Fighting with herself, she knelt down in front of his head. What other choice did she have? Carefully she pulled down the cloaks. He didn't notice it. Stroking his cheek, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. That woke him up. Blinking and breathing more conscious, he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Wake up.", she whispered. "Lesson's over. I sent them up."

Groaning, he tried to sit up, supported by her, looking even more miserable than before. His hair was all messed and his eyes refused to open properly. She started kissing him tenderly again. Unable to hold himself, he joined in for about a minute, waking a little more with every move.

"What happened?"

"Hmm?", he grumbled.

"What was that potion and what did you need it for? Where have you been?"

"Emergency. I canno' tell. Ye'll find ou' soon enough.", taking this for the proof he was awake, she decided to take on her own mission.

"What's your next lesson?"

"Defence, fifth-years."

"Can you fly?"

"I – think so – "

"Sure?", she helped him onto his feet.

"Yes. Better than walkin', apparen'ly.", he chuckled limply when his knees gave in a little and he stumbled to the side, having to be caught by her. "Thanks."

"No problem. Then let's get back up."

Nodding exhausted he yawned, summoned the empty green folder and then pointed his wand at the cushion. A flash of green light and the mouse laid dead on the bench; a flick and it burnt to cinders without leaving a singe on the wood. Hermione curled her lips.

"Dun' – ", he started, "Can ye imagine wha' a mouse in a green'ouse can cause?"

"Okay, okay!", she hissed. "It's not like you could undo that anyway."

"Exac'ly."

~~#~~

They could hear students talking in the opened classroom already. Walking ahead, Severus stormed in, approaching his desk. Though the students had jumped to their feet at his sight, the view of Hermione rushing after him confused them a little. Stopping in front of the desk, he turned about and startled, much like the students at the discovery of his face.

"Why are you still following me, Miss Granger!", he hissed.

"Because I cannot let you do that, Sir. Professor Dumbledore needs to know, no matter what, and it would be better for your reputation if you do what I tell you now. Because, either you do what I say or I walk straight to him."

"Is this a threat?"

"No. Just a warning, Sir, for your own health.", it was now, that even the last student had noticed his terrible looks and shocked as well as confused whispers travelled around. "Get a paper and write down what I tell you."

"You are not giving me orders, Granger.", everyone held their breath when she pointed her wand straight at his face, eyes cold and her hand firm.

"Now.", Hermione snarled when he failed to make her hand lower magically. "You see, Professor? You're not even capable of influencing me _a bit_. Get out a paper and write. It is essential that it is your handwriting. I believe, the students entering this class next are the seventh-years and I'm afraid they won't listen to me _only_ because I know how to yell at them."

Severus picked a piece of parchment from a drawer and took out a pair of rounded rectangular reading specs from the left pocket of his robe. Hermione wasn't the only one to frown when he put them on. He however didn't really bother and grabbed a quill, waiting for Hermione to compose herself and clear her throat.

" _I, Professor Severus Snape_ ,", he took a deep annoyed breath, but inked the quill and started writing. " _Herewith devolve Miss Hermione Granger all my duties as a teacher for the present day, Monday January thirteenth, nineteen ninety-seven and permit her to treat my students over that time in manner of my teaching methods, including the right to award and withdraw points from their House, give homework and inflict detention throughout the course of all my lessons scheduled on named day_. Now sign that, Sir.", he hesitated, tired eyes of disbelief on her, though did as told.

"Does that mean, you will be our teacher today, Hermione?", Luna asked; Hermione answered without turning away from Severus.

" _Madam_ , for you now."

"You can't be serious!", Ginny chuckled.

"That's right. He's dead."

"Hermione!"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I can, Miss Weasley.", even Severus was struck by her consistency, and a little bit, by her sudden cold dark humour. "Your complete timetable, _Professor Snape_?", he turned the parchment with a snort and wrote down all classes for the day, including the subjects they currently dealt and the plans for the day.

"Is this the new one?"

"It doesn't happen too often that all timetables get completely rearranged in the middle of the year, but does that make you believe, I cannot learn mine within a day, Miss Granger?"

"Alright.", Hermione huffed.

"And you will need to take the register.", he took a folder out of another drawer. "The lists are in here. If you already insist so hard on undertaking my lessons, do it properly.", he took off his glasses, slipped them into his pocket the moment he stuck the quill back into the inkpot, turned for the stairs up to the office door and stopped in front, his hand on the knob, throwing a last glance down on the fifth-years. "If there should be any problems, Miss Granger,", he sighed deeply, "The third left to the hole is the key.", finally dropping her tension, Hermione nodded understanding, all eyes watching him press down the handle a little slow. "Thank you.", he mumbled, sadness flooding his face before he – failed at another attempt to open the door.

Luna had gotten to her feet and climbed the stairs as well, coming to halt less than an arm's lenth away in front of him. As good as he could due to his state, he frowned at something very small she held up to his nose. His dull blinking and Luna's bright smile made the whole scene even odder than it already was. The thing she offered him was an insanely colourful, pentagonal presentation box, just big enough a Snitch would have fitted in. Its lid was bound close with a thin, shimmering purple ribbon, a tangle on top.

"What is this?", he asked quiet, carefully picking it with his left thumb and middle finger, eyeing it with interest.

"Belated Happy Birthday, Sir.", Luna smiled on.

"Er – thank you – ", Severus aspirated.

"And sleep well!", she turned and hopped downstairs.

"I – hope – so – ", he still marvelled at the present when he finally entered the office and locked the door behind.

"So what's that, Hermione? You just made Snape let you hold his classes!", Ginny murmured after having shaken her head with rolling eyes when Luna was back at her seat, not losing her broad smile.

"You are not to address me with my first name during today's lesson.", Hermione turned to her, the cold Severus-kind-of look back on her face.

"Oh come on! What's going on here!"

"If you haven't noticed, Professor Snape is not in the state of teaching properly today. Being a conscientious student and Prefect, I feel responsible for the quality of the education other students are to receive. Therefore, under the present circumstances, I see it as my obligation to provide such. Now, knowing each of you, I think there is no need to take the register. Get your wands out, class. According to this list, you will learn and practise the Reviving Spell, which is the counter to the Stunning Spell. The incantation is as follows: _Enervate_. Repeat that."

"Enervate.", almost everyone said after a pause of struggle, in spite of their confusion and even visible fear, except for a certain group of students.

"And now the Slytherins as well.", the rest of the class snickered. "Silence. Now, why don't I hear anything?", angry mumbling, vaguely determinable as the incantation. "Well, imagine your own lives depending on people like yourselves. Do you think you would survive?"

"Enervate.", the Slytherins grumbled.

"A little louder?"

"Enervate!", they shouted at her, followed by frustrated mumbles to one another.

"Wonderful. Although you _could_ do it with a little more feeling.", she gave them a sneer and sent their benches, desks and dropped bags to the walls with a wave of her wand, resulting in horrified jumps and shrieks. "Now get together in pairs. One will stun the other and try to lift the effect. If successful, you will take turns.", it took quite a while until the students had lined up, wands ready. "Begin."

Accompanied with screams of ` _Stupefy!_ ´, flashes of red light whizzed through the classrooms and half of the students were knocked out. The casters of the spells then went over to their partner, pointing their wands at them again, speaking the incantation of the counter spell. Only few managed to work it at the first attempt. Hermione stood in front of the teacher's desk, watching with caution. The fact that she had actually gotten Slytherins listen to her, made her feel like she owned all the power in the world. But in real, she was just glad she had paid attention to several possible ways of teaching over the course of the last five and a half years at least.

Three turns ahead, Ginny and Luna seemed to even have fun in stunning one another. The sound of approaching shoes echoed from the still open door to the corridor. Wearing a midnight blue robe and high hat, Professor McGonagall entered the room. Hermione had to be honest she should have expected her to turn up.

"Attention, please!", McGonagall sang, making the students stop, half of them however still lying unconscious on the floor. "Thank you.", she crossed the room and froze. "Miss Granger? I hoped, Professor Snape might be able to explain why you are not in my class and now I find you here? In _his_ class? Where is he?"

"Absent."

"How very funny.", she brandished her off. "Now? Why is this class practising without him? And why are you standing there like a statue?"

"Because I am their teacher today."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?", she blinked heavily.

"It is all on here.", Hermione picked up the parchment and held it towards her.

"What is this?", McGonagall closed up, took it and read it through, her eyebrows disappearing under her hat. "What _is_ this?"

"As I said, it is all _on the parchment_."

"But why would he let you undertake all his classes and, I assume, also the first-years' Herbology in the afternoon?"

"Because he is incapable of teaching today."

"Why? What is he – "

"This is all information I can provide you, Professor.", Hermione didn't lose a bit of her sobriety.

"This is serious, then?", McGonagall shook the parchment, yet Hermione resisted another joke about Harry's murdered godfather.

"Certainly."

"And your lessons, Miss Granger?"

"I believe, this piece of parchment is enough excuse."

"Very well, Miss Granger.", she gave back the sheet with a sigh. "I cannot comprehend his intentions, but knowing him makes me understand that his reasons must be severe. Otherwise he would not give such a written order. I will notify your other teachers that you are officially exempted for today."

"Thank you, Professor.", Hermione nodded once and McGonagall turned to go.

"And Miss Granger,", she paused, curling her lips with concern, "Good luck."

"Thank you."

"You may continue.", McGonagall said to the class before she left.

~~#~~

Hermione loved pulling her newly imposed rank – for now. The seventh-years had been a little more challenge at first, but after she had silenced them by nonverbally letting a jet of fire rush through the room like a snake, not burning a single hair, they had been no big deal. Now, it was time for lunch. Having watched him doing this some times, she wrote down what she wanted and placed some Sickles on the paper, knocking three quick times on the tabletop. The order and money gone, only a minute later the meal appeared. With a big sigh about the unfair aspects of wizard society, she sat down and started eating, wondering whether he had eaten a single time over the weekend and what he had actually done.

An emergency, he had said. Knowing him, she was certain this emergency had something to do with Voldemort. But what could it be, if not even arranging things around that mass breakout could have beaten him down so hard? What could have consumed so much time, he hadn't even managed to take care of his own welfare? He had never been devoted to a task in such a thorough way and she had to confess, it scared her. Whatever it was, the outcome might have even been fatal if he hadn't intervened, she was sure, and he had clearly been affected by it personally, not only physically.

Something was going on out there and she started to fear the moment to come when she had to cope with Dumbledore being dead. She had believed it to be in distant future, but now it seemed to be hanging above her like a spiked veil, stiffening with every inch it came closer, ready to impale the invisible shield that appeared to be guarding everyone. As though the safe bubble would burst soon, leading to the destruction of everything she held dear.

Finished with a horrible feeling, the table cleared automatically. For momentary safety, she closed the classroom door from the distance, picked up the notorious parchment and went upstairs to the office, examining it.

The room was totally empty. Empty shelves, the desk dusty, the chair behind as well. He had banned Umbridge's former presence quite efficiently, but had neglected the room ever since. Hermione closed the door and looked at the keyhole. _The third left to the hole is the key_. She counted three bricks left from the keyhole and pressed the stone into the wall. One of the shelves swung open. The revealed room was rather dark. A black curtain had been drawn shut. In the corner at the foot of the bed was another door, obviously leading to the bathroom. Neatly folded black clothes on a bedside chair, a pair of black shoes on the floor in front of it. On top of the pile, the opened colourful box and she wondered what had been inside.

Covered by a white blanket, he slept peacefully. The collar of his long-sleeved shirt was showing. Messed black hair was spread over the white pillow. A quick hand on her mouth stopped a surprised, yet woeful giggle. His legs were slightly uncovered. She knelt down at those beautiful toes and examined his left ankle that carried something: It was as broad as Hermione's little finger and knotted from cobalt blue, light pink, antique pink, salmon and white yarn, in a regular but artistic pattern. She had made the – friendship _anklet_ long enough it hung lightly loose around his ankle. _Oh Luna_ , she thought with a flattered smile and carefully pulled the blanket over his legs.

Neither that, the dim light coming from the office, nor the quiet noises caused by Hermione placing another chair next to him was enough to wake him up. For some minutes she just sat there and watched him sleeping, the parchment and her wand securely on the bedside table. The longer she studied him, the farther away seemed that dangerous ceiling that came down on her, like he was an angel, whose mere presence could repel all evil. She knew it was just an illusion, but she wished to be bathing in it forever.

"What made you so tired?", she softly whispered, tenderly wiping a strand of greasy hair out of his face.

Smiling wearily, she stroked over his three-day beard, causing his lips to move unconsciously. She didn't want to wake him from his necessary sleep, but neither could resist touching him. Blurred black on his lids. Hermione wondered why he wore eyeliner. She had never seen a man doing it. Well, she had, but they were members of rock bands. Slowly his eyes opened, having felt the touch. A dazed smile emerging on his lips, he found her face, the eyes falling shut again.

"Wha' time's it?", he mumbled.

"Lunchtime.", she answered in a whisper, continuing fondling his left cheek.

"'Ave ye 'ad lunch?"

"Yes. I ordered something from the kitchen. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starvin' so much, I fear I canno' ea'.", making her let go by it, he turned onto his back and stretched, a hand on his mouth to cover his yawning.

"Then I think, some soup couldn't hurt, right?", he sniffed, blinking like in the glasshouse.

"Yes. A warm broth would be wonderful."

"Anything added?"

"I – jus' – jus' bread cubes, please.", he sighed to the ceiling. "Oh – an' ye should mention tha' it's fer me."

"Okay."

Hermione placed a soft kiss on his right cheek, then let him alone and went back downstairs to the desk. When having sent the order, she groaned. How could she be so stupid? The other desk would have worked as well. She heard water run, then another sigh, a little muffled – assumingly by a towel. Moments later, he stood in the doorway, only having added his trousers to his appearance. The loose white shirt fell past his hips. Barefoot, he walked down to her, a little weak-kneed. A faint noise and a steaming bowl of broth with bread cubes as well as a silver spoon appeared on the desk. Hermione held out her hand, but instead of taking it, he stepped a little closer, brushed through her hair and gave her a slow kiss. He then sat down and started eating.

When his eyes followed Hermione walking to the other side of the desk, he noticed a very small, fluffy purple something up on the round iron chandelier. But Hermione would draw his attention in the next second. Having sat down on the desk, she held his left hand with a smile. A thankful smile in return, he closed his fingers around hers and ate, the warm soup comforting his stomach.

"Since when do you need glasses for reading and writing?"

"Since I was twelve."

"What?", Hermione chuckled. "But you – "

"I can do without, but it is by far better with them.", he smirked limply.

"Will you tell me now?", she reached out and playfully stroked his left cheek.

"No."

"Fine.", Hermione sighed and dropped her hand.

"I said you will find out soon enough."

"And I said it's fine. It would screw the whole fun wouldn't it?"

"Definitely."

"What has he ordered you? _You know who_ I mean."

"Nicely phrased, but – "

"Don't deny. Dumbledore wouldn't keep you busy all weekend without sleeping or eating. What has he ordered you?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, so is teaching if you aren't a teacher."

"It is complicated when being a teacher as well.", Hermione took a deep breath. "Look – there are things I mustn't tell. Not even you, as hard as it might be for me.", he took another spoonful.

"But I'm worried! When did you return anyway? Eight o'clock?"

"Approximately nine minutes later."

"He doesn't care at all, does he?"

"I'm afraid, he isn't able to actually care for anything but his own interests.", the last bit of soup went down and the bowl plus spoon vanished. "Hermione. You must understand – ", he bent forward a little.

"I try to! Still – "

"He is not easy to handle. One toe out of line – "

"I know, I know.", Hermione moaned at him. "And everything will be in vain. Just be careful, okay?"

"What do you think, I have tried for the past years?", she leant closer as well.

"I know, Severus.", she said and kissed him, slow and softly, all four eyes closed.

The classroom door swung open so fast they couldn't part in time. Her jaw dropped slightly, a girl came to halt in the middle of the room, staring at them in disbelief. Almost simultaneously, three hearts skipped a beat.

"T-tell me – ", she aspirated, "That – no.", she slightly shook her head.

"Ginny – ", Hermione whispered.

"Don't – ", the other girl only shook her head once more. "Don't even try to bluff it out."

"Ginny please – ", the ginger shortly curled her lips.

"Oh shut it. I don't want to hear. From neither of you. It's none of my business what you're doing."

"Miss Weasley – "

"I – I actually don't care – ", Ginny sang hastily. "Really – "

"Ginny, that's – "

"I said, shut it!", Hermione swallowed. "Have – have you seen Arnold?"

"Arnold?", murmured Hermione. "Your Pygmy Puff?"

"Yes. I can't find him. He must have jumped out of my bag somewhere."

"Is it purple?", Severus asked, a familiar sadness back in his face, looking at Ginny only.

"Yes.", both girls said.

"Then you should maybe take a look at the chandelier."

"What the f– "

Ginny raised her head and her shoulders sank with a relieved sigh. She walked further into the room, held her hands up and called for her pet. The furry ball let itself fall down and landed gently in her palms. Snorting, she placed it on her left shoulder, giving it a glare.

"Freaky little thing. At least he obeys my call.", Ginny smirked and went back to the door. "Next time you'd better lock."

~~#~~

Both glad that the day was over, they sat opposite to each other at the very same desk they had been caught at. Hermione had forced him back to bed and continued holding his lessons. After more Defence lessons and having spent another two hours in a cold glasshouse, the warm dinner with him was more than she could have wished for. This time they had locked the classroom door however. He had lit the floating candles, filling the room with a soft shine. The world outside the windows was as dark as the curtains hanging into them.

"Can you tell me again, how many students received detention?"

"Four.", Hermione laughed after ten minutes of calm silence. "But I haven't set any specific time. You can do that yourself. It's all on the list, including the change in points. I didn't know whether your signature would actually make me able to influence the score."

"I don't think it did either; after all a Prefect's influence ends at every classroom door, but thank you. I will check the glasses tomorrow."

Severus smiled at his – she was sure he had hosed her – ` _rumbledethumps_ ´, he had said extremely fast, and insisted on that being the name. So at the moment, he smiled at his whatever-meal-mush he dug into with a silver fork. There was a knock on the door.

"Who is there?", he called out.

"It is me, Severus. May I come in?", Minerva McGonagall's voice answered, muffled by the thick wood.

"Yes.", there was a clicking sound when he shortly pointed his wand at the door and the elderly woman stepped in, took a brief look around and closed the old wood behind.

"Oh there you are, finally.", she approached the desk. "You are still here, Miss Granger?"

"It seems so, doesn't it, Professor?", Hermione smirked.

"Very w- gu sealladh orm!", McGonagall clapped a hand on her chest. "What happened to you, Severus?"

"You should have seen him in the morning, Madam. He looked like he had spent the weekend in Azkaban."

"Oh dear – you haven't though, have you?"

"It is hard to believe, but I haven't, Minerva. It has just been an extremely exhausting weekend. Thanks to Miss Granger, I could catch up on some sleep."

"And what would devastate you so much?", she gave Hermione a short glance, wondering whether he would tell her when the girl was present.

"A rather odd and challenging mission."

"Albus will regret ordering you about, one day, I promise.", she sighed.

"He is not to blame, Minerva. It had only turned out to be a bit more complicated than I had expected. But in the end, everything went – as it had to."

"At least that is – is it good news? Only one question, then I won't disturb your meal any longer."

"That is all right.", Severus dismissed her.

"No, no. I will leave you alone then. Miss Granger, there are rumours going around about you having given four students detention?"

"Apparently I have, Professor."

"The reasons?"

"The reasons shall be my problem, not?", Severus noted.

"Oh drop it. I am her Head of House. I want to know some details about the actions I'd like to reward her for. After all, the rumours range from ` _never had a better teacher_ ´ to ` _as horrible as him_ ´.", Hermione blushed over her noodles. "There are students comparing her teaching to your and my strictness!"

"Well, it indeed appears I have some bad influence on her. When she intends to do something, it is settled. Her consequence is quite overwhelming."

"Would you say you could imagine her taking on a career as teacher?", Severus and Hermione looked at each other, both surprised.

"I – I think, she might actually have qualities as such, yes. But as said, I have not been present. You would need to rely on those rumours, Minerva."

"Very well. Sixty points will be a good reward for your accomplishment, Miss Granger."

"I – thank you, Professor!", Hermione aspirated. "I – ", she looked between the teachers; Severus gave her a barely visible shrug and frown.

"Oh I think, you deserve it. Though by tomorrow, both of you should be back in your respective positions. I wish you a good night now, before I find myself scoffing that utterly delicious looking rumbledethumps.", she left without any further words.

"Congratulations, Hermione.", Severus chuckled after having locked the door from distance once more.

" _Drop it_.", she smirked. "That was a nice experience, but she's right. I'll never do that again."

"I agree. You should try to stand back a little. Dressing up like a scrubber, spreading the knowledge of my date of birth, serving me tea in front of your classmates and then making me allow you to undertake all my lessons for a day – those are very many peculiar acts for the period of four days.", he seriously encapsulated it. "We have three people knowing of our relationship; luckily keeping silent about their knowledge for now; one defending a light version of it, a colleague knowing that I am at least not single anymore and a stalker, curious for my clothes. Oh yes – and half the school wondering whether you've gone all glaikit."

"And – _Won-Won_ – doesn't seem to notice anything at all.", Hermione sighed, scraping her plate and took a paper, his quill ready. "Fancy something sweet?"

"Yes.", he slowly pulled the quill from her hand. "You."

"Wally.", she mumbled. "I meant pudding."

"I know what you meant.", he smiled. "And no, unless you do."

"Neither. I'm brimmed."

"Well, then all I need is a wash, a shave and you in my arms.", he gave her a short, saucy kiss. "Downstairs.", he added moaning. "This bed is horror."

~~#~~


	26. Chapter 25 - Stories on a Shelf

– Chapter 25 –

 **Stories on a Shelf**

For the sake of it, they had decided to turn up for breakfast in the Great Hall next day. The interrogating looks were too many anyway.

"Can you tell me what's going on?", was the first sentence she got to hear from Harry.

"Good morning.", Hermione sang and sat down.

"Yes. So?"

"What's going on in your opinion?", her tone couldn't be more cheerful and regardless at the same time.

"Well, though Ron is incapable of noticing, everyone else stares at you. I can understand that you made him tea. He really looked dreadful. But holding all his lessons?"

"To your information, I got sixty points from McGonagall."

"Sure. It's all about the points then.", Harry huffed. "Just like _helping_ Slytherins."

"Of course not! But I thought I might _abuse_ his state a little and give the students a relief."

"You sent four people in detention in only one day!", Harry snarled. "How's that supposed to be a relief! It's hard to admit, but I think you even broke his record."

"They deserved it!", hissed Hermione. "Any other teacher would have given them detention as well. And you weren't there. So shut up."

"And what was that on Thursday? That whole dress-up thing? I still don't believe you, you know?"

"Leave her, Harry.", Ginny snapped, leaning over the table. "That was my fault."

"Yours."

"It was a silly bet, okay?"

"A bet?", Harry frowned, looking from one girl to the other.

"Yes."

"You don't dare saying it.", Hermione murmured; they were too far in the game to quit.

" _And if I do?_ ", Ginny went louder, some heads turning to her.

" _You don't!_ "

"Well, you did too! So what? We had a little fight and Hermione said she would rather burst into Snape's class dressed like a slut and I was foolish enough saying she'd never do that! I apparently lost!", Ginny yelped so loud that it would have been a miracle if she hadn't been heard and understood clearly by every single person in the ha– the entire world.

"Thanks, Ginny!", Hermione gnarled. "And I thought, _you_ could keep your mouth shut!"

"Sorry that I won't let him tease you for my own stupidity!"

"Fine! And thanks for telling the whole school!", Hermione panted like a dragon.

"You girls are just – "

"Yes?", both barked at him.

"Unbelievable.", shaking his head, Harry decided to prefer dedicating to his breakfast.

"Miss Granger! Miss Weasley!", McGonagall called from the staff table, shaking her head as well. "No one is interested in your personal debates!"

How wrong she was. The story had struck. Until leaving the hall in a mass of students, neither of the girls exchanged any more looks or words. Before they parted for their lessons, Hermione pulled Ginny aside into an open, empty classroom

"Why did you do that?", she hissed at her. "Why did you – "

"Save your arse?", Ginny said coldly. "Maybe because I'm your friend and believe you would do the same?", Hermione let go of Ginny's arm, a little sad, somehow.

"Thank you.", she aspirated. "Are you – are you in trouble?"

"No.", Ginny shook her head. "It's just – I really like you and – the other day, Luna told me you are worried about me. Concerning Dean."

"Well, she's right."

"Okay. But there's nothing to worry ab– "

"Whatever that is between you, it's not working. For neither of you."

"I know – but it's – it's complicated, you see?"

"It obviously is.", Hermione crossed her arms.

"What's that between you and Snape?", and her arms fell immediately.

"It's complicated."

"Well?", Ginny was the one to cross her arms now, leaving her no other option in the slightly unfair play.

"I love him and he loves me. He has forgiven me for what I did during the past days and I can't deny I'd forgive almost anything he would do.", it just sputtered from her mouth so fast she thought she had accidentally swallowed some Veritaserum.

"I asked for what it is, not for you to make any excuses for your public behaviour.", the look she gave Hermione was nothing short of one of her mother's. "Does anyone else know?"

"Luna found out first that there is something between us and she has made it her duty to defend our, well, friendship."

"Sounds familiar."

"But I don't think she knows we're a couple."

"You wish. And who knows that bit for certain?"

"Just Slughorn, and supposedly Dumbledore and Burbage. It would truly be a miracle if she hadn't figured out. Slughorn has caught us holding hands and Dumbledore has seen Severus' Patronus. Yes, that was Dumbledore. He just shortly visited Hogsmeade. But that's another story and I know only half of it, I think. And Severus said that I might have given myself away a little too much. So yes, it is quite possible that Dumbledore knows who the otter is."

"Wait – Patronus? Hogsmeade? What?"

"Oh sorry – forgot you weren't there. At New Year, McGonagall invited everyone for a drink on the Astronomy Tower. We then sent magical fireworks in the air. The people in Hogsmeade answered. Dumbledore was among them and he and Severus had a short coded conversation via spells. He cast a Patronus before we left unnoticed, thanks to Burbage and Luna. She also helped me making the Christmas present for him. I guess, you know about the purple scarf?"

"Parvati's really keen on finding out more about it. I suppose, the stars were Luna's idea?"

"Yes."

"And Slughorn keeps silent too?"

"Yes. I guess, he's too fond of his old student.", sighed Hermione. "Oh and McGonagall's the same as Dumbledore, though definitely unaware who _the woman in Severus' life_ is."

"Since when are you seeing each other?"

"It all actually more or less developed over the past two years, but shortly before Slughorn's party, we had a very long conversation during which he offered me to be on first name terms with him. On Christmas Eve – we kissed. Unbelievable.", Hermione shook her head. "Telling it like this, makes it sound like some horribly written teenage novel. But it's not, you know? I – I just don't know how to explain better – "

"It's okay.", Ginny sighed. "I believe you that it's not some random, stupid adventure. You're not the kind of person for such."

"Thank you."

"To be honest, I always thought the way he looked at you when passing by was different. So were your looks. Not only since our accident."

"Well, I've been trying for three years to find out more about him. After all, he saved my life before."

"Hang on."

"It was in my third year, around Hallowe'en. I went for a walk and got lost in thoughts. He saved me from some Dementors. On that evening, I discovered that he was hiding something. Something actually good. But it wasn't until said conversation that he told me personally what exactly it was."

"And?"

"I can't say. Please don't ask. It's a secret and I swore not to tell anyone. I said too much already anyway. I can only tell you that it's the real reason he's in the Order and that he is on Dumbledore's side, no matter what some people might think or what he might have done – or do – or will do. Can you – "

"I won't tell anyone either.", Ginny said stern. "The less you say, the better, I think. So – we can trust him? And that's not just because you love him?"

"We can fully trust him. No matter what. He'd never betray Dumbledore, even though they'd had some issues in the past. Whatever happens, _keep that in mind_."

"So something's going to happen?"

"Yes."

"Something horrible?"

"Yes."

"But it's part of a plan? _Dumbledore's_ plan?"

"Yes. But I'm not allowed to tell. No one must know, Ginny. Speak to no one."

"I won't."

"You two _are_ aware though that, if it hadn't been for a fortunate series of events, you weren't overheard by anyone?", the two girls startled. "Anyone but me?", he was pushing his hands sideways against the doorframe, completely blocking the entrance.

"Oh my goodness!", Hermione whispered.

" _Next time_ – better close the door.", his dark eyes wandered coldly from one girl to the other.

"I'm so sorry, Severus – "

"No harm done. It was right of you to rather tell than letting her bathe in a sea of considerations. I'll be needing allies who can accept half facts without questioning. Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Thank you for your support – that was a well played scene, down there, I must say. You are a truly convincing liar. And a noisy one. If we all live more than once, you must have been a medieval barker."

"Any time, Professor. And thanks.", Ginny blushed a little.

"You should go to your classes now.", he stepped aside, glancing down both sides of the empty corridor. "Each of you may say, I detained you. And Hermione,", nevertheless both spun around after they had slipped out, "Take care.", he brushed the back of his left hand over her left cheek. "Either of you."

He gave Ginny a single nod and rushed off. Wordless, they turned in the opposite direction and parted for their individual classes.

~~#~~

Curfew was great. Strict curfew was even better. It meant that there was only Filch to be bothered and knowing he wasn't using the shortcuts, was her triumph. Getting down to the Dungeons was as easy as letting herself fall into his arms. Well, of course only when there was no one around. But that was exactly the point.

By the moment Hermione had reached the door of his office, someone was coming, their footsteps echoing in the spiral staircase. Ignoring the knocking-rule, she hurried into the office, of which she was glad he hadn't locked. There was fire in the chimney and the secret door was half opened. Knocks on the door. Panicking, she hurtled onwards, downright jumped onto the stone plate; but quietly; waited impatiently and stepped on it again before she slipped in, so she would be locked inside. She had just enough space to sit down, her legs under the table with the gramophone. Around the high shelf-door, a thin rim of orange light. More knocks.

She heard him walking towards the door, opening it. There was only silence. Then –

"What an interesting honour.", he spoke. "I was, though awaiting you, close to give up hope for you to be coming. Good evening."

"Good evening to you as well, Mr Snape.", was that – no way – never – "Dumbledore sent me a letter and when I arrived, he said nothing but that I would be better advised to speak to you."

"That is correct. I could not risk sending you a letter personally. It would, if not ignored, have been too suspicious. Has anyone seen you walking down here?"

"Apart from the portraits, and some suits of armour, no."

"Very well. You may enter. Take a seat, Minister. Would you like anything? Tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you. Alas, I had enough of it today.", the door was closed – and locked. "So what is it I am here for?"

"Precaution.", Hermione heard them both sitting down at the desk.

"Precaution? Well, that is a highly rated word these days and nevertheless almost impossible to implement."

"Yes, almost.", some sort of heavy paper pile was placed on the desk.

"That is – ", Scrimgeour aspirated. "Good gracious! Those are Ministry Folders! How ever did you get hands on them?"

Hearing him saying that, made her finally remember where she had seen them before. Arthur Weasley had sometimes come home with yellow folders. Exactly such yellow folders Severus had been working on at any possible time, all throughout the year.

"It would not be my first time, sneaking into the Ministry, yet you would be advised to listen, Minister. These are only copies of employee files."

" _Only_?", Scrimgeour chuckled.

"You ought to listen, _Minister_.", Severus snarled. "It is, as you might hopefully see by the number, only a tiny part of all records. Since last summer, I have been working through papers, filtering out Muggle-Born employees. Other than the work to it, the reason for this is quite simple: there might be the time when the Ministry is no longer able to hold against the forces of the Dark Lord."

"We – ", he meant to protest, but was ignored.

"When this happens, he will take over the Ministry and run it after his perceptions. This, in regard of his favour of the _pure blood_ , will quite likely end in a systematic slaughter of Muggle-Born employees. To make sure this does not happen in such a grand scale, it was my wish to go through all the records personally. These papers here are the result of my work.", Hermione heard him pulling some sheets from a folder. "The names of all verifiable Muggle-Born employees and the departments they work in."

"I assume, you want them to leave the country? But this is rather impossible, you see? Those appear to be – "

"Quite a lot, yes. What do you consider to be better, Minister? Loading those not on the list with more work and save the others or – let everyone work the same and risk the death of many hundred people?"

"You are facing me with an utmost unfair decision, Snape! Yes, of course I wish them to be safe, but the others – "

"It is your choice what to do with the list. I have a copy. Let it not fall into anyone's hands. _By no means_. Everyone must be addressed personally and persuaded not to tell. Any information leaking about this, will be fatal and I am afraid the only people you can fully trust are Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, his son Percy, Dirk Cresswell, Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks. They are informed, but since I cannot interact personally with them due to the already existing security measures, I believed it would not hurt to inform you."

"Compared to the work ahead, these are very, very, _very_ few.", Scrimgeour noted grimly.

"Compared to the work behind, these are enough to not draw too much attention. The people who are supposed to flee, must be no more than five at a time and not every time five in one go. Everything too suspicious will be perilous, for each and everyone involved."

"You tell me this as if you were talking to a teenager! I am certainly aware of the dangers! After all I once was an – "

"Good. Forgive me my accuracy. I am used to talk to such, having to explain everything thoroughly; leaving no space for misunderstanding. But of course, yes, you used to be a great Auror."

"So this will be it?"

"Quite, yes. Unless – "

"And, only considering the Ministry might actually fall to him – are there any plans for the students at Hogwarts? After all, some here are Muggle-Born as well and there are more on the potential list every year."

"I am glad you mentioned it yourself, Minister. It is, as I may confess, the only string in the entire movement Professor Dumbledore is aware of as well. He and I have everything worked out concerning the students. Those are not to be worried about."

"Very well, Snape. I cannot deny, this is an amazing piece of work you loaded upon yourself. I believe, I have to thank you honestly.", Hermione heard Scrimgeour put the papers into his briefcase, both raising.

"Yes, it was hard work, but I hope it was not in vain. If it saves even just a single life, it will already be enough, as it is for me. The rest of the world may have whatever values they desire."

"Yes. The rest of the world. I hope this part knows what it does. So we can only pray for everyone not working in the Ministry – "

"Speaking about it, and knowing this psychopath all too well, I have managed to take advantage of one of his mad goals. Unfortunately I cannot reveal details by any means, but you will find that there is a wide number of Muggle-Born being watched, as well as their families."

"Forgive me, but this sounds like you had been taking the Ministry's work in your hands without our notice?", Scrimgeour sounded explicitly panicked now; Hermione could hear a sort of complacent smile from Severus' tone.

"You see, and I have not even slightly the numbers of people available the Dark Lord has under his command."

"Fine. Then let us also hope, whatever precaution you mysteriously managed to get rolling, will prevent another slaughter like that in St Mungo's back in the seventies."

"It surprises me, that in spite of your shiftlessness, you are still thinking thoroughly. You may though have had the one or other difference with your cousin, but he proved most cooperative when I had a word with him."

"You had – "

"After Mr Bode's murder, he seemed to welcome any rise of security in the hospital and Muggle-Born or otherwise endangered patients are given secret extra watch, so are any incoming medical supplies and – ah – _presents_."

"Do you have the slightest idea, how shocking this all sounds when considered that you – "

"Maybe you ought to ask Professor Marchbanks about my former connections to the Ministry. I mean those long before my trial."

"Professor Marchbanks?"

"You'd only need to mention mice."

"Mice? The rodents?"

"Exactly those."

"Very well – er – one more question, though, _having been the Auror I had_ – why you? Why of all, is it _you_ to do this? What makes you?"

"Many things have been kept unsaid over the years."

"So I am to fully trust you? After all, as you hinted, you have been accused of being a Death Eater in the past, said to play a double game, never clear on which side you were."

"As I said – "

"As he's clearly proven by what he's told you, you shouldn't underestimate him or his intentions, Minister.", it just slipped out of her, regret rising in the very moment after.

Silence. For several seconds that felt like hours to her. Footsteps. A rattling. Blinking, she stared up at his dark silhouette, frowning at her with obvious interest in _her_ intentions. Embarrassed, she blushed and grinned back awkwardly.

"What is this?", Scrimgeour moaned, trying to look past him for getting a glimpse on Hermione. " _Who_ is this?"

"What by all means are you doing in here!"

"Sitting."

"What an intelligent answer.", Severus huffed.

"Sorry. I fled."

"Fled."

"Sorry."

"Are you comfortable down there?"

"If I considered having pins and needles in my buttocks pleasure, yes."

"There are no other students or teachers around. You may speak normally."

"So _may_ you then, not?", she giggled.

"You think I speak abnormally?"

"What?", Hermione murmured. "No! That's not what I – "

"Do you need help?", he held out his hand.

"Probably. Yes. Thanks.", she let herself be pulled up, surprised there was no dust on her clothes.

"Is this a student of yours?", Scrimgeour contorted his face when Severus let her step out of the shadows.

"It is all right, Minister. She is involved in quite a number of my plans. What makes me wonder even more – why did you hide in here? You could have just – "

"I know.", Hermione moaned. "It was a panic reaction. Don't know what I thought who was coming."

"Or rather, who you thought coming might punish you because you were still out long after your watch was over?"

"I – just – don't know.", she shook her head, trying to figure out what she really had thought.

"Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Minister?", he didn't turn away from Hermione though.

"Not for the moment."

"Then I wish you a good evening.", taking a deep breath, Scrimgeour understood.

"Same to you, Mr Snape. Thank you for all that help."

"Not at all."

"When this is over, I will make sure, you will be rewarded to the best possible."

"When this is over, I'd prefer anyone in charge spending the means necessary for my reward, rather on those actually needing it. Would spare me a lot of donation work."

"Very well."

The lock clicked. Their eyes still drilling into one another's with sadness, they heard him leave. The dark wooden door fell shut again, locked. No words. Simple certainty. Hermione laid her arms around his neck, leaning to him. Only after a minute, a sigh escaped him and his head drifted against hers, tired arms pulling her close, all strength gone. Vanished. Vaporised in a the dark, slain by rising despair. Silent tears. Falling for those forever gone..falling for those who might have to go..falling for those forever left behind..

A single kiss, unable to heal the wounds, though soothing the pain. Another, in return. Silent gratitude.

As if she felt the knot in his throat, she pulled back her hands and undid the black lavallière around his neck. Clasp after clasp sprung open and the caring fingers pulled the black robe off his shoulders, down and away, carefully hung over the desk. She leisurely grabbed the lavallière, took the ends with both hands then and playfully placed it on his head, pulling it down at each side to bring him closer. A broad smile drifted onto soft lips, lifting his wet cheeks. One more kiss, sweet this time.

He easily snatched the cloth from her hands and bound it on her own head with a bow, just as if it actually belonged there. As easy, he picked her up and sat her onto his desk. Curious, she watched him step back against a certain bookshelf. Though he didn't do anything but crossing his arms and legs, leaning to it.

"Yes?", she grinned.

"Nothing.", a smile in return, as he tilted his head to the left, studying her – Hermione started laughing. "What's so funny?", her hands on the desktop, she dangled her legs, as well crossed at her ankles – her head sank in between her shoulders and she curled with laughter. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No – I – ", she gasped for breath, "Just – "

Both smiles froze immediately. The lock had clicked and suddenly the door stood open. All four eyes were on him and his flipping between the two once he had spotted them. Severus frowned.

"What is this supposed to be?", he said very slow.

"I – patrolled the castle and saw Scrimgeour, coming from the Dungeons.", the other man pointed over his shoulder. "I was curious – "

"And then you thought, you should _just_ break into my office an see whether there is any sign he has been here? Well, he _was_ here, if it interests you. But that does not give you any right to – "

"Sorry – "

"Get in and close that thing, if you please."

"Sorry – ", Remus repeated and did as ordered.

"How did you discover I changed the spell anyway?"

"I tried. It didn't work. So I – "

"And how did you figure out what it is?"

"It was quite obvious, to be honest. You used it to lock your trunk in your third year, remember? Oh now don't look at me like that.", he murmured. "I had nothing to do with it. James only told me after he and Sirius had placed those Dungbomgs inside. How did you get rid of the mess, by the way?"

"Washing off the secretion of Runespoor eggs takes far longer.", Severus growled.

"Really? Mind teaching Molly how to? The twins are horror when they return from work."

"I am grieved.", he didn't lose his annoyed tone. "One ought to think she might have gotten used to the troubles of having children. So, now that you found it confirmed that Scrimgeour was here and you have told one of my students what a scallywag her _best friend's father_ was, are you satisfied?"

"Actually, I'd – need a word with you – in private.", he glanced at Hermione, who didn't miss his nervousness. "What are you doing on his desk, Hermione?"

"Sitting.", she replied curtly, much like before. "But if you cannot bear it,", pointing on the closed shelf-door she looked back at Severus, "Can I use your toilet?"

"I don't know whether you _can_ , but you _may_.", Severus murmured, followed by a grunt of hers and stepped aside. "Don't forget to pull the string."

Hermione slid down, walked over, tilted the book and was gone. It took Remus some seconds to realise what just had happened.

"What was that?", he chuckled.

"She has grown up."

"Apparently."

"Well?"

"Well, what?", Severus rolled his eyes, leant against the bookshelf left to the again closed door. "Oh. Yes. I – don't know where to start – "

Staggering a bit, he walked over to the desk and looked at the black robe that was still lying across it. Deeply in thoughts, he raised his left hand over it as though he wanted to touch the fabric, but slackly pulled it back. The absent breath he took, caused Severus' arms to drop. Rather bored, he stared at him. Though Remus, finally looking at him, saw the weariness it really was.

With seconds flying by, the space between them slowly dwindled. Trembling hands reached for calm ones, barely able to catch hold of them. But there was no need. Severus closed his fingers around Remus'. No words. Only silence. And memories again. So many memories. Images from the past, burnt into minds.

Severus bit his lower lip, just looking into those brown eyes piercing his, desperately struggling for words to finally say. Their fingers hooked until then, Severus moved his to the outside of Remus' hands, forming close shells around them. Then, for a short moment, he let go – and, his arms laid on the other man's back, he held him tight, resting his chin on Remus' right shoulder when his eyes closed. Remus gasped for breath on the feeling, but managed to complete the embrace, still shaking.

"I know.", Severus whispered softly; the shelf blurred before Remus' glassy eyes. "I know.", Remus' head slid down against Severus' collarbone and he started crying, soundless.

Head to head and arms around backs, minutes passed. Minutes in which a pair of shoes stood silently beside a bed in half darkness, the only light being that coming from the small lamp in the bathroom. Hermione didn't dare to get up from the bed. She had no idea what was going on behind the secret door, but she knew that she shouldn't enter the office until told. So she laid on her back and stared at the ceiling, thoughts spinning in her mind. Spinning round and round and slowing down, slower and even more slow, until they stopped. She hadn't even noticed her eyes falling shut.

"What do you know, Severus.", thick tears running down into his moustache, he looked back up at him. "What."

"Everything."

A hesitant raised hand brushed away a bundle of black hair. Severus swallowed and tried to find something else to look at than the face of the man in his arms. But it was difficult, even more, when Remus placed the hand on his cheek and he felt his heavy breath on his lips becoming more intense. Then the remaining distance between them was gone. Like a lightning bolt, the shiver rushed through his entire body, making his eyes close immediately. He felt a hand on his back and one gliding down to his hip when something soft and wet parted his lips with ease. Severus' mind was rotating at the friction between them when Remus pulled his hip to his own and his hand wandered up Severus' skin under the white shirt.

Though his body had gone crazy enough to enjoy it, his consciousness couldn't find any pleasure. But somehow his mind seemed to have lost control. Especially when a hand moved to an area that had so far only been touched by eight other hands. Unable to resist, he pushed against the massaging palm with a muffled moan. That was too much. Returned to his senses, he pushed Remus away, who stumbled backwards all the way to the desk, completely struck by the sudden change.

"No."

"Severus – "

"I dun' – wan' – "

"Don't get me wrong,", leaned against the desk, panting, he raised a finger, "But that just felt a little different.", he chuckled.

"I am your friend.", Severus said cold. "Nothing more. I am sorry. I can't give you what you long for. Besides, we are not alone, if you forgot.", he reached for the book and tilted it, revealing the dark room behind.

"Well,", Remus slightly lifted, "In ways, we are."

Severus frowned and turned, figuring what he meant. With a flat sigh, he scratched his neck and his shoulders sank.

"Do your students usually fall asleep on your bed?"

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

But Severus already was in his private room, getting out the pouch and stowing Hermione's shoes in it. Then he walked back to the desk and grabbed his robe, which he put back on. Remus watched every of his moves in silence. When the cloak was on, the lock of the front door clicked and the door swung open. Not dropping another word either, Severus went for the bed and carefully dug his hands under Hermione's slack body, lifting her on his arms. In a whirl of black fog he was gone.

~~#~~

The next thing Hermione noticed was light. A soft morning light glowing past dark red velvet curtains. And a voice that worked like a bucketful of ice cold water.

"You must have been really tired.", Ginny said. "I can't remember that anyone ever talked about you going to bed in your uniform before. But at least you took off your shoes.", she sighed. "Interesting way to celebrate the arrival of February. Get up. Everyone's at breakfast already."

Totally confused, Hermione sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. There was some feeling in her head. An indeed very familiar feeling. Her eyes widened even more, though she still couldn't see clearly – but enough to know the two of them were alone. Ginny sat at the foot of Hermione's bed, just inches away from her toes, crisscross-legged.

"Are you okay?"

"That – you bastard!", she aspirated.

"Uh – sorry?"

"Not you!", murmured Hermione. "I just laid down on his bed and must have fallen asleep. Alright, I _was_ very tired, but that's no reason to – "

"To what?"

"He gave me a sleeping potion! That's how he could carry me up here without waking me. Incredible."

"Actually, I didn't.", both girls shrieked and looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. "The aftermath of that potion is just the same as of a quite deep sleep. It seems, it has been a very, very, very long time since you slept thoroughly. Congratulations."

His voice came from the window between Fay's and Lavender's bed where he sat on the sill, against the stone wall, with bent knees, reading a book. His robe and cloak hung over Fay's chair. He didn't look up as he spoke. Just Hermione had seen him become visible. Ginny; turned rather oddly; was stunned by the fact that she hadn't noticed him.

"How come, I didn't see you, Sir?", she frowned at him.

"What shall I say,", he sighed, "I am a chameleon.", Hermione snickered. "As _transparent_ as a ghost.", she immediately remembered what he referred to and suppressed another giggle. "At least, if I want to."

"Which means?", Ginny asked on.

"Invisible to those incapable of opening their eyes."

"Which means _exactly what_?"

"That I am so hungry I could eat one of Hagrid's pumpkins in whole.", he clapped the book shut, slid off the windowsill, grabbed his things and left.

~~#~~

"But you can't deny, he's amazing."

"I never claimed the opposite.", Ginny laughed. "Honestly, if I had a boyfriend that was camping invisible beside my bed, I'd – ", she froze in mid-step at the sight of Harry staring at her; Hermione stopping not less shocked.

"Who's amazing? Invisible? What?"

The girls blushed heavily, but startled another time as the man to their left raised his voice. His ochre suit and greyish brown hair had melted with the gilded door-wing at the entrance of the Great Hall he leaned to, hands in his pockets.

"Good late morning, ladies.", he smirked.

"Remus!", Ginny gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching the castle.", Remus sighed.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course. Forgot about that. How's Tonks?"

"Quite fine. Though I don't like who she has to hang around with. But she's capable enough to deal with them, I think."

"Meaning?"

"Never mind – Harry, didn't you – "

"Oh yeah – damn. Forgot. See you later.", with that he sped off upstairs.

"So? How was your night, Hermione?"

"My – ?", she blushed even more, Ginny eyeing her from the side.

"Even took off your uniform?", Remus winked.

"No, she didn't.", Ginny chuckled. "And how come you know about that?

"A very strange concatenation of circum- oh fantastic!", his tone suddenly changed as he spotted the rush of black coming to halt behind the girls who spun around instantly. "Thinking, we are funny?", he snarled.

"What are you still doing here.", Severus grumbled, the blankness of his expression slowly becoming anger.

"I'm on guard, if you forgot.", Remus murmured. "Very comfortable bed, by the way.", Severus huffed and walked around them into the hall. "Oh holy pumpkin juice!", Remus hissed. "What is this? Rejection? Ignorance? You call this knowledge? If you _knew_ that much, you'd be a little less selfish!"

"Wha' d'ye wan'!", Severus spun and stared at him as much as the handful of students and teachers that were left in the hall did, startled by the way he had said that alike. "I think, I made me poin' clear, din' I?", confused looks were exchanged among the remaining ones spread all over the tables, the whispers pretty much dealing with the dialect he suddenly had on, though not fully dropping his usual exaggerating pronunciation.

"But I don't believe you, you see?", Remus chuckled dull and started staggering into the hall, as if he was on some kind of drug. "As much as you usually are a wall to the world, that wall broke in yesterday and your pathetic attempts to push me aside will fail eventually."

"An' so ye think, forcin' me will lead ye anywhere? If ye 'aven' noticed, there's in fac' a wall an' 'is is as natural as tha railway station ye wanna be.", Remus stopped, approximately nine feet away. "Bu' I 'ave ter disappoin' ye. _This_ particular train does no' sto' at Remus City."

"Why then yesterday?"

"A mistake in organisation.", Severus huffed.

"Mistake – oh yes, sure!", laughed Remus, downright pitched. "Next time you sort your papers, if you want to build up a lie."

"An' tha train is full.", Remus laughed even more.

"The train is full! You don't believe yourself even! Come on – the train is full! When has it ever been? Oh wait – you nicely wrapped a passenger around your finger then. The only passenger you ever let board. But there was a far more comfortable train, remember? Though, I'd be totally fine – "

"'As yer fixation already sickened ye tha' much tha' ye refuse ter see tha truth in tha way it's presented ter ye? Tha las' passenger was invited an' accepted on personal favour! So 'as tha curren'! Yes, _tha_ , _train_ , _is_ , _full_!"

"Well, then who is it?", Remus gave him a lazy nod.

"Tha's _me_ business, no' yers."

"Yes. Because there isn't any. But there _is_ one _waiting_."

"No, there is, an' no ticke's lef' fer tha oh so desperately waitin' one. Tha train was _never_ designed fer passengers like tha one waitin'."

"Oh listen to yourself, you bloody coward! You can't even speak openly about it! She was always open! You're a disgrace to her memo- ", he broke off.

All fire was gone from the bowls at the walls and the chimney. A sudden cold flooded the hall under the clouded ceiling, taking everyone's breath away. Only one person wasn't affected by it. His fists to his side and his ill-natured look on Remus, he was the source of the change.

"Ge' ou'.", he hissed quietly, very slow and clearly, his eyebrows narrowed with anger.

"Severus – ", it was McGonagall who had raised and moaned to him now. "Could you please turn on the lights again?"

" _Shu' up!_ ", his head had shortly turned as he had spat at her, gritting his teeth with a wolf-like fury, causing her to collapse into her chair with shock. " _Ge' ou'_ , I said. _Ev'ryone!_ "

The students didn't need to be told another time. Hastily grabbing their belongings, they hurried out of the hall and away, leaving only the four as well as McGonagall, Sinistra, Burbage and Slughorn.

"Have you got a problem?", Remus hissed likewise when the last students were gone.

"Yes, I 'ave. An' tha' problem's standin' righ' in fron' o' me. I can bear a lo', bu' there's a certain poin' where ye should accep' fac's. If ye really wan' us ter be sum'thin' like friends, then leave 'is 'all now as well, before yer brain throws ou' more though's like 'ese. Maybe no one ever told ye when it's better ter shu' up on sum'thin', so I will do. If I mean anythin' at all ter ye, ye shoul' grab yer legs an' move 'em from 'is school's groun's."

"Who.", his voice was as definite as Severus'.

"I said, it's none o' yer business, ye dumb'ead."

" _I beg your pardon?_ ", Remus aspirated, all his tension blown away in a second.

"Since when does he speak such a horrible Scottish, by the way?", Ginny asked Hermione.

"One word – "

"It doesn't happen often that it breaks through.", Hermione answered.

"Or what!"

"Especially not that distinctly. Not even when he's totally out of his mind. To be honest, I _have_ heard him rage before, but it'd be interesting to hear what he's like if he should freak out completely."

"Dun' make me, Remus – "

"Seems close."

"Don't make you _what_? You're no threat to me, Severus."

"One more wor' – "

"Then try, you – "

" _Yes?_ "

"True. I mean, McGonagall does have a heavy accent sometimes when she's upset, but _that_ is just awful to listen to.", smirked the ginger. "Doesn't fit him at all."

"I don't know why I even waste my time with bellends like you."

"Just because we're not used to it.", Hermione noted.

"Wha' was tha'?"

"Probably.", Ginny somehow agreed.

"Well, if you can call me a dumbhead, I can call you a bellend, don't you think? I mean, it's not like you bothered calling Lily a Mudblood, not? Tell me – is that something common you call people you say you l-"

"And I find it actually rather cute.", continued Hermione.

"Maybe. But you can't tell me that one can take a thing of what he said now serious. It just – doesn't sound right, dunno. And it's got a bit of a Cockney sound, if I think about it."

" _If ye dun' shu' up immediately,_ "

" _What_ , Snivelly. Are you going to throw benches at – "

"I suppose, yes.", considered Hermione. "He said his dad's from the East End."

"Hang on!", Ginny aspirated as McGonagall had jumped up again, this time with a squeal when Remus had to duck under one of the benches from the Gryffindor table, which had crashed into the wall behind the Slytherin table.

"Want to kill me or what, arsehole?", Remus raged, his wand out.

" _GE' THA FUCK OU' O' 'ERE YE TURD BURGLAR!_ "

There was a bright flash, but it was blocked by Severus even without the use of his wand. Hermione had dropped her bag and ran like her life depended on it, Ginny after her as soon as she noticed. Both had their wands drawn. Another flash, red this time, but it was blocked as well.

"BLOODY! COWARD!", barked Remus, sending spell after spell at Severus in vain.

"STOP IT, YOU LUNATICS!", McGonagall screamed.

The next moment, Remus laid on the floor. His wand landed somewhere behind the Ravenclaw table. Severus had swept him over with another mere wave of his hand. Remus look resembled his rage now as they snarled at each other, Severus not less frightening than the actual Werewolf. That one wanted to jump up again, but found himself facing two outstretched wands directed on his head.

"Ladies!", moaned McGonagall.

Severus' tension was eliminated eventually. Slughorn hung slack on his chair, having fainted. The other two female teachers still sat, though giving the high impression of having been hit by a gigantic flat hand that had come so fast their bodies hadn't realised they were to fall over like Slughorn. Someone stood in the open doors of the hall, gazing at the scene. Then there was a whirl of black fog rushing past Hermione. So quick she was surprised herself that she had gotten hold of – his wrist, as she just noticed when they were already flying past Dumbledore, out through the open front gate. The old man's head turned after them and back to Ginny, whose wand was still stiffly pointing at Remus' shaken face.

Stumbling, her feet came to halt and she was toppling against one of the empty glasshouses. A wrathful scream of fury. Shattering glass. Smearing a trail of blood, he slid down along the glass, limply into the snow. His back half at the front, his scathed fist glided from his thigh and into the short grass. When Hermione slowly got aware of all details of the situation, he was already crying heart-wrenchingly, not bothering the blood or the pain. The agony inside him made the self-inflicted injury pathetic.

~~#~~


	27. Chapter 26 - The Art of Disguise

– Chapter 26 –

 **The Art of Disguise**

Along with the snow melting, he had finally desisted from becoming upset on the mention of Remus' name – and Madam Sprout had returned to Hogwarts, fully recovered. Though there was no knowledge of Katie Bell's convalescence yet. A soaking wet second week of February was almost over, covering the school grounds in mud. Nearly a month, Hermione thought, gazing up to him as he stood in row with the other Heads of House. Tomorrow it would be a month, she thought. A month and they had just needed three – she blushed, finding him raising an eyebrow, looking at her for the first time since the last D.A.D.A. lesson. Had he read her thoughts? He hastily looked away as if nothing had been. Hermione narrowed her eyes. There was something about three Ds.

The reason for the sixth-years to stand in the Great Hall, was their first Apparition lesson, for which Dumbledore had lifted the Anti-Apparition-Enchantment within the hall only. Normally the lessons would take place in Hogsmeade, but the constant flood of rain pouring down had made that impossible. The three Ds. Destination, Determination, Deliberation. Hermione wondered whether something like that applied on flying too – only the destination replaced by something else? Dematerialisation? De- _detonation?_

All heads rushed around. The teachers stormed towards Susan Bones, reuniting her with her leg inside a huge cloud of purple smoke. Hermione's stomach wasn't the only to crumple. Splinching. A horrible thought. Could similar happen when attempting to fly as well? Because, Apparating would be dematerialisation for a moment. But thinking about it, flying was constantly being nothing but fog and being hit by something could cause terrible damage, couldn't it? Now she understood why he wouldn't teach her before she could Apparate properly.

Trying to ignore Twycross's lack of emotion regarding somebody splitting off their own body parts as if it was an everyday event to witness, they continued their attempts to reach the wooden hoops in front of them without only spinning around and accidentally stumbling or even falling inside of them.

She knew it was possible. She had done both ways of travelling, Side-Along. But somehow there was a lack of imagination. _A wand is none other than a piece of wood filled with a magical creature's token, concentrating the power of a mind to a bound beam. If the mind is weak, the wand is useless._ Concentrating the power of a mind. But the only power that seemed willing to concentrate in her mind, was the power of her hormones. The power that made a strange tingling sensation rise in her body with every tiny move he made while patrolling through the hall. Squinting, she shortly shook her head.

"Concentrate, Hermione. Concentrate!", she whispered to herself.

But the moment she had calmed down and actually concentrated on nothing but the will to move her body into the hoop, he walked past her row. A spin, and she finally belonged to those who had slammed their buttocks at the stone floor. Angry with herself, she could have sworn having seen him drop a faint smirk for a split second. Only when getting up, she felt an enormous pain in her left wrist. It had come so fast, she couldn't even scream, but nevertheless wrapped her right fingers around it, staring at the hands. Curling her lips, she bit down the pain. She took a deep breath and swallowed it, not noticing that he had seen it.

Glad that the lesson was over, she hurried out of the hall, not without throwing a little nastiness at Ron who boasted about having felt – _a tingling_. Instead of upstairs, she disappeared in the other direction, running out into the Entrance Courtyard, instantly showered. Out of sight at the left foot of the stairs, she grabbed her wrist again, breathing heavily in pain. The rain and fresh cold air were no soothing. She tried to move a finger of her left hand, but it hurt even more. Pressing her mouth and eyes shut for a moment, Hermione felt tears coming.

She startled. A hand had settled on her left shoulder. Slightly relieved, she gazed up at him once again, his sopping black hair hanging straight down already.

"Drink that.", he said softly, holding a flask in front of her nose with the other hand.

"Miss Granger?", McGonagall came hurrying downstairs. "Oh there you are. Why do you run out into the rain? Severus? What – "

"Her wrist broke when she fell over."

"Oh no."

"Now drink it.", he whispered, replacing the stopper with his thumb so no rain would mix with the substance. "Or have you lost your trust in me?"

Quickly, she wrenched the flask from him and swallowed all its content down in one go – to his luck. By the moment she had done, she knew she would have spat it on him otherwise. Contorting her face about the horrible taste, she slightly fell against him, but he firmly caught her by her upper arms. After all, McGonagall was there. Hermione felt stupid.

"Wise choice to be vigorous.", he grumbled. "Better now?", Hermione realised that the pain was gone and that she could move her fingers without problems.

"Yes – ", she aspirated.

"She should be fine, Minerva. It was just a broken wrist, after all. No need to – "

"Minerva? What're you doing out there in the rain?", Slughorn peered outside.

"Oh nothing too special, Horace. I was just worried when I saw Granger storming out and followed. But it seems, Severus caught her earlier. She had only broken her wrist. All fixed. Everything fine again.", Hermione saw Severus throw a demanding look at Slughorn which was confirmed with a nod, all in the split second between McGonagall looking from one to the other.

"Very well. Come back in then.", he chuckled. "There's no need for another teacher going to St Mungo's, is there?", she returned upstairs where she wanted to see whether the other two were coming as well, but Slughorn prevented that by putting his hand on her back. "How d' they do in their first lesson?"

"Like usual.", McGonagall sighed. "Susan Bones splinched, but we were quick enough. Some Dittany and she shall be all right.", they were gone out of sight.

"I suppose we really need those allies.", Hermione smirked coughing when he plugged the flask and slipped it into a pocket of his robe.

Without words, he pulled her close and nestled his face to her wet hair. Her right hand glided into his neck, clutching black bundles. Kissing in the rain was a strange experience, but they knew they wouldn't be seen unless someone noticed their shapes being spared. When their passion faded to tenderness, Hermione opened her eyes. He looked like glass, drops of water running over his head. It made her understand. Understand that she was right about the difference between Apparating and flying.

"Does it hurt?", she whispered, caressing his cheek with the tips of her now translucent fingers.

"Does what hurt?"

"Flying in the rain?"

"Finally you understood.", he sighed. "Yes, it does. Even snow hurts."

"Impervius is no help, right?"

"Not the slightest."

~~#~~

"This can't be for real.", Harry muttered, holding Hermione back before she could follow him around the corner. "Can't one go anywhere in a free period without bumping into them?", Hermione sighed at the corner walls.

"Thanks for saving me from the sight."

"Any time. Well, seems we need to make a detour. Feels like then, doesn't it?"

"Then?"

"Second year, remember? Looking around corners with a mirror? Just in case – you know?", she frowned at him, but slowly started laughing.

"Oh Harry – ", she smirked, "That's an awful comparison to put into my mind, you know?", suddenly the mass of bustling students walking the one and other way around the corner split and something tall and black was striding into her sight, giving her a short glance as soon as he had spotted her. "Anyway – you go that way. I'll take the detour."

"Honestly – I can go with you.", Harry sang, pointing around. "It's not much of a deal. I know I can ignore them better, but – ", there was Lavender's high pitched giggle over all noises, "I don't mind walking around with you."

"Actually, I need to go to the loo.", she contorted her face, hoping he would drop his kindness.

"Oh. Okay – er – then – see you later."

"Yeah.", he fleetingly waved and walked away.

The moment he had disappeared around the corner, Hermione turned on her heels and saw a black head vanish at another corner some way down the crammed corridor. Fearing she would lose him, she tried to speed up, which wasn't easy due to the loads of students walking and standing in her surrounding. One corner further, he went to the left. Somehow she had the feeling that he had waited for her to catch up. Then he was gone behind a portrait. Just in time, she could grab the closing frame.

"Now, now, girl.", the wizard in it bellowed. "There is no reason for – "

"Quirks.", she said curtly.

"Ah well, have it this way then.", and the pressure against her hand eased when the portrait swung open again.

"Thank you."

She heard his footsteps far upstairs already, getting puffed by hurrying after him. But there was more: a muffled gasp and another voice speaking, that of a woman.

"Gotcha.", she whispered, just loud enough for the now frozen-in-place Hermione to hear. "I've been trying to catch you alone all day. One would think I'd gotten better at this."

"Maybe I've gotten better too,", he mumbled, clearly in his dialect.

"You know that I love you, don't you?"

"Ye dun say.", Hermione even heard the smirk he must have given – "Charity. 'T's nuthin', ye know."

"That's what _you_ call it. But it means the world to me."

"Well, I'm glad ye like it."

"And that's why I love you. You may be a complete nutter sometimes, but still you know me better than I know myself."

"Good ter know."

"Severus!", she laughed. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nuthin',"

"I mean, I want to tell you that I love you, like every single time you look at me, and all you do is – shrugging?"

"Well, maybe 'cause I know?"

"I know people could misunderstand,", she grunted. "But this place is not exactly public,"

"'T's no' priva'e either,"

"It's a friggin' secret passage! How more secret could it be! Or do you want me to use a code or something?", the disbelieving chuckle was apparently answered with another shrug Hermione couldn't see in the dark, as well as due to the bend.

"Dunno."

"And what should I say?"

"Dunno – like – `we're friends´ – an' – "

"`We're friends´.", Burbage huffed. "Alright, you friend you. Out of context enough for a code."

"Charity – I – "

"I get it. You're busy.", somehow she didn't even sound upset. "You know, I'm busy too. Need to get to the North Tower real quick. Let's just get up there together, then I'll leave you to your business, like real friends do."

"Oh shu' it."

"Never.", she laughed again, as they walked on and Hermione followed as quiet as she could, holding her breath, although she feared either would hear her heart pound.

"An' wha've ye go' ter do in tha North Tower?"

"I'm looking for a charming prince in shiny armour who's hopefully not as busy as the other."

"Wha' ye need Cadogan fer?"

"Let's say, you got Peeves; I need to improvise. Sluggy revenge. Noting special. You could get fired, but castle portraits are bound to the castle. No use hanging him off. So I'll ask him instead."

"Sure. See ye. Dun' do anythin' stupid."

"I second this, you friend, you."

"Tz."

At the end of the staircase, she pushed away the still swinging tapestry. Down one more corridor he stood, waiting in the frame of a big ornamented door, holding it open for her – Burbage was nowhere to be seen. Her breath calming down, Hermione approached him and her mouth slightly gaped when he let her in. The big room was filled to the ceiling with all sorts of junk and furniture, leaving only small paths between.

"That's – ", she looked at the ceiling, "The Room of Requirement – ", she aspirated when the door closed behind them, neatly. "Just – wow. Couldn't you have made it become a little – less crammed?", he slipped a bemused chuckle when he walked around her, towards an old table in the near. "So – ", her tone changed from surprised to some sort of cheeky, making him turn shortly before the table, a soft smile on his light face when he watched her stepping closer. "Having a free period again?", it was almost a whisper. "Oh sorry, I forgot – ", she seductively bit her lower lip, "It's always the same one we share – unfortunately not often enough.", the last words came with a little sadness.

She was only inches away then, her right hand moving up to his left cheek. There she tenderly touched his skin and wrapped a bundle of his soft but very bouffant hair around her fingers, pulling his head down a bit by making a fist. A second later, they found themselves in a very slow and endearing kiss. Her hand slightly let go and brushed further into the black waves he must have washed in the morning. She could still smell a faint hint of apricot from that distance.

Severus' hands gently wandered around her back and Hermione's free one into his neck, up the back of his head. Just a tiny bit more, she opened her mouth with the next move, granting his tongue entrance. She shivered at the touch on her palate. Normally they didn't kiss that deeply. But when they did – it was some sort of commando. Just moments from that, two cloaks, a tie and a lavallière slipped to the floor and buttons were opened. Her hands slid down over the little black hair spread evenly over his chest, past the locket and rings and the shrunken pouch, and his up her spine beneath her as well opened vest and blouse. With a muffled giggle of hers, her bra flicked open.

Hermione gave a quiet sigh when hair was wiped behind her right ear and his lips and tongue wandered over her cheek, slowly kissing down on her neck. At the same time as he took the clothes off her upper body, she opened his belt and the buttons of his trousers. Neither regretted the number of buttons there though. She felt her tights and underpants moving a little in direction of her knees beneath her skirt. Then she already was in the air, turned around and sat onto the table. She had no idea when he had levitated his cloak onto it to make the wood a little more comfortable. But, though not opening her eyes, she knew that he took something from his pouch while he gently laid her back onto the tabletop and kissed down on her body. When he reached her navel, she heard the quiet noise of something being torn open. Grinning broadly, she let him do.

~~#~~

The sound of the door being closed. Then, silence. Only the noise of the stuck record far at the inner end of the room. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but the tears had dried during the passed minutes, mostly from swallowing down her crying and the tries not to listen. Sure that they were gone, she raised from the floor and walked trough the rows of trash. Around a high tower of incredibly weird assembled old chairs, she nearly walked into someone. He had come as quietly as she had. After the first shock wore off, she saw that his grey-blue eyes were not much differing from her brown ones. Seeing him like this caused a feeling to rise in her that she would have never thought to have for him: it was a mix of curiosity, surprise, and growing sympathy. She could tell he felt the same when looking at her.

"What are _you_ doing here?", she aspirated; he swallowed a thick knot in his throat.

"I could ask _you_.", he replied.

"I was hiding."

"So – was I.", he partly lied, grinding his teeth behind his parted lips, in thoughts, and blinked when he looked away to the floor.

"I thought the room wouldn't let anyone in once someone's inside and closed the door.", she pondered.

"'Suppose it does, when the purpose's the same.", he chuckled with a faint grunt.

"You seen something?", he just lightly shook his head.

"You?"

"No. And I'm – actually glad."

"Since when does she – "

"You know who she was?"

"I heard her talking – before – _it_ – so yes, I know. Since when does she have a boyfriend?"

"Since when have you started to care for her private life?", Ginny frowned.

"Well, it's curious, isn't it? I mean – Granger – of all – ", another chuckle. "And then going to the Room of Requirement for a shag. Wicked world."

"Yeah.", she murmured. "Wicked world. You'll keep quiet about it, won't you?"

"Course. Who'd believe me anyway."

"Exactly."

"You don't happen to know _who_ , do you?", Ginny hesitated for a moment, then walked off. "So you do?"

"That's none of your business, Malfoy.", she snorted. "Just shut up about it, if your life's dear to you."

~~#~~

Malfoy. Malfoy, Malfoy and Draco Malfoy again. As wonderful as it was that Ron was back after he had been poisoned accidentally and actually found Lavender annoying, Harry's constant blabbing about Malfoy was driving her mad. Of course it had been him, trying to curse and poison Dumbledore. But letting him figure out details of the truth while she had known it for several months, was horror. As much horror as it was that Ron couldn't officially break up with Lavender when they already virtually hated each other. Just as much as Ginny and Dean. Hermione sighed. It was in the genes, then.

But at least she knew now that the thing Severus and Dumbledore were still not totally sure about, had definitely something to do with those strange things called Horcruxes and a smashed memory of Slughorn, of which Harry still hadn't managed to get the intact version. The dormitory door opened.

"Here you are.", Ginny said, having found Hermione sitting on one of the large inner windowsills, staring out into the rain.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just – wondered where you went. Suddenly you were gone. I thought I might try up here first."

"Aren't you going to your Transfiguration?"

"McGonagall's cancelled it. She went to St Mungo's. There's news of Katie."

"Really?", Hermione straightened a little so Ginny could sit down opposite to her. "How's she doing?"

"I don't know. McGonagall's been so hasty I couldn't really tell whether she was happy or worried."

"Oh.", for some seconds, they just looked at each other.

"It's gotten a bit quiet around you."

"What?"

"Now that Ron's at least a little back at his senses. If I wasn't needing to draw attention to me so you could sneak out and if I didn't see those little glimpses you exchange during meals, I'd think you two broke up."

"Oh no. We just went a bit more underground."

"Less wandering around, more sitting in the Dungeons?", Ginny chuckled, making Hermione laugh.

"That too. No – we – well, we learned caution. Or at least, _I_ learnt. He knows it perfectly well, even though I can see him struggling a little when I look at him."

"He's a great actor."

"He is."

"And it seems you learnt a lot from him. Harry came to me yesterday, asking whether I knew when you decided to study his way of speaking. Even Ron says you're almost like a copy of him already, not only because you're slapping everyone with books."

"Well, it's great fun.", Hermione giggled. "It takes people a long time to notice we butcher one another openly in a way he couldn't blame me for any of my words, even if he wanted."

"So – you never said – what's it like? Being together with someone so very much older, I mean?"

"It's only nineteen years.", Hermione frowned.

"Only.", Ginny noted.

"I – oh come on.", laughed Hermione. " _So very much older_. That sounds like I hook up with Dumbledore or so.", she shook her head with a grin. "And besides, _that_ is very impossible.", she added under her breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I mean – what are nineteen years?"

"You are _seven_ teen.", Ginny pointed out.

"Now shut up!", she laughed again.

"So? What's it like? What's – _he_ – like?", Hermione needed a moment to think.

"Skilled."

"Skilled?", Ginny chuckled dully. "Meaning?"

"Well – his toes are – quite flexible – "

"Toes."

"Yes – I mean – if he feels like it, he just picks up things from the floor with his toes. Clothes, mainly. And his wand."

"He can pick up his wand.", her stare couldn't have been more bored. "With his toes. Fascinating."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Sure."

"I mean, how many people can pick up their wand from the floor, with only their toes?"

"Luna.", Ginny remained indifferent.

"Sorry?"

"Not at all. I said, Luna can."

"Oh.", it dawned on her, that she wouldn't get around a certain topic.

"And I wasn't talking about his wand-picking-skills. I don't really want to know what else he can do with his toes, and if it's playing chess."

"Well,", Hermione leaned back, her head turned upwards with a grin, "Actually, he can."

"Now that's good news, if Harry should accidentally curse his arms off one day,"

"Ginny – ", the full number of possible meanings to that sentence hadn't reached her enough to make her grin go away.

" _So?_ "

"Amazing."

"Simply?"

"Simply."

"So I got it right with the years."

"What?", her head zoomed back down.

"Experience."

"Oh – not really, you know? He's not a womaniser. The complete opposite, actually. But okay – I won't deny he has _some_ experience and a very special way to – think – ", Hermione blushed.

"Think?", chuckled Ginny again, though a little more lively.

"Please don't make me explain. I can't."

"But you _are_ aware that he's a grown man, not one of those idiotic beetle-heads around our age though?"

"More than anything.", Hermione nodded lightly. "I mean, he can be childish, but still."

"He might, you know – he might want – one day – "

"You think he'd want to have sex?", Hermione now chuckled.

"Yes.", Ginny sighed, trying not to give herself away.

"Well, then _you_ might want to pay attention now."

"Don't say he belongs to those rare kind of men who are said to exist? Those who would care for a woman's wish before they take us?"

"He does.", Hermione sneered. "And I said _yes_.", there was a very long pause, accompanied by the sound of the rain clashing with the window.

"You – ", Ginny fake-aspirated quite convincingly, presenting her a full variety of eyebrow movement, " _You had sex?_ "

"Yes."

"When?"

"First time on his birthday."

" _What?_ You mean – after detention? Has he even – "

"Yes, it was detention. I really had to sort Runespoor eggs with O'Nelly. He totally scared me that evening. Even more than when he played ` _The Werewolf and the Dementor_ ´.", both giggled.

"How did he do that, by the way? It was crazy!"

"I have no idea. All I know is that he could do it as a child already. I just didn't expect him to be so good at it either."

"Really? I mean, that felt like extraordinarily powerful magic. And what was that thing about the trains?", Hermione blushed.

"Relationships, I guess. But he refuses to talk about it."

"So it is."

"Quite likely, yes."

"You reckon, Remus – you think, he's got a crush on – "

"What?", Hermione chuckled hollow. "No. No way."

"But if it was really about relationships, it would only make sense,"

"You think?"

"Yeah. It sounded like that. Poor Tonks."

"In that case, she would be, yes. Severus is definitely not the type to start something with a guy and if Remus was and being so keen on him he wouldn't stop fighting to get him, totally.", she considered.

"That'd be tough. Just imagine – they already argued about it in public! How far would that go, you think?"

"Stop putting images in my head."

"What?"

"Forget it. Where was I before?"

" _The_ evening."

"Oh yes. I thought I'd screwed. But it seems, he can forgive me anything. And well, it was a wonderful night then."

"You actually did it?"

"Yes.", Hermione grinned.

"But it was only that night, was it?", Hermione thought she could see some strange concern in Ginny's eyes, not definable whether she was worried that it was _only_ one time or whether it was _more_ than one time.

"No?"

"And? Is it – is it true what – what's said about noses?", Ginny blushed.

"What?", Hermione giggled. "Oh – you mean – oh!"

"Stop laughing at me."

"Sorry.", she was as flushed as her now.

"Well?"

"Yes – I mean, somehow. He's – oh god, Ginny! Don't make – ", Hermione laughed even more, unable to cope with her embarrassment. "Well, okay, we've had some complicated moments, but we found ways."

"So you enjoy it?"

"I couldn't tell a thing I wouldn't enjoy about him, to be honest."

"He's not too big?"

"No. Not really. Er – wait – Ginny – has Dean – ?"

"No. He – ", a sigh, "He hasn't touched me at all, actually. Not in that fashion."

"Okay.", now Hermione was indeed a bit worried about that look on her face. "Would you – want him to?", Ginny gazed out of the window.

"I don't know – maybe – maybe not – ", a pause, "Rather not – ", she lowered her head. "But you _do_ use condoms, hopefully?", it was obvious that Ginny wanted to distract herself from thoughts of Dean.

"Of course we do. As much as we love each other, what would it look like if I got pregnant from one of my t-", the door was pushed open.

"What are _you_ doing in here?", mere rage in Lavender Brown's face and voice, projected on Hermione.

"It is _my_ dormitory as well.", Hermione murmured, but Lavender just let out a blow, turned and slammed the door shut again, causing the other two girls staring at where she had disappeared for about half a minute.

"You think she'd be more relaxed if she knew you have sex with Snape?"

They exchanged a distinct look and burst out into laughter.

~~#~~

It had gotten a bit late. A bit very late actually, when Harry returned from the grounds under his Invisibility Cloak. He had just had the most profitable visit at Hagrid's. In his pocket stuck a phial, containing a memory that would be _the_ key to success. Smiling broadly, he marched towards the marble staircase and – almost ran into someone. Luna Lovegood was hopping downstairs, humming a happy song. Not knowing why he felt the sudden need to follow her, he did, blaming Felix Felicis once again in his half-consciousness. Her hair and skirt bumping, she hopped through the Entrance Hall and towards the open doors of the Great Hall. To his surprise, the hall was brightly lit. A black grand piano stood sideways on the podium. But the moment he noticed it, his feet stopped moving, some yards into the hall already.

Luna hopped straight towards a tall black figure that sat at the – Gryffindor table? His green eyes widened behind his glasses as he watched her sit down next to him with a happy smile, her back to the table. But due to _his_ back being turned to the middle corridor and his face leaning on the fingers of his right hand as well as the veil of black hair falling into it, Harry couldn't see whether he reacted on her arrival in any way.

"Hello, Professor.", Luna sang.

"Good evening, Miss Lovegood.", it was a long, low murmur without changing his position a tenth of an inch. "Can I help you?"

"What are you reading there, Sir?"

"Nothing you could read.", he sighed boredly and Luna leaned over a bit to see the book.

"Are those Cyrillic letters?"

"Yes."

"Which language?"

"Russian.", he mumbled.

"May I have a try?", his thumb remained at the page when he clapped the book shut so Luna could see the title. "Erm – F- Fyodor? Is that right?"

"Go on,"

"Do – s – to – évsky? Fyodor Dostoévsky? Who is that? I have never heard of him."

"Now you have.", he grunted and opened the book again, but Luna wouldn't give up. "Wha-?", she had pushed her fingers under the cover and lifted it once more to read the title.

"I – idiot? Is it really called like this?", she snickered.

"Yes.", Snape huffed and almost crashed her hand beneath the cover.

"What an interesting title.", Harry thought that too. "What's it about?"

"That is too complicated to say in short.", to his surprise, Harry heard footsteps from behind. "And your colleagues are coming."

"Oh. Yes.", she had spotted them. "I'll better go now, don't I?"

"A wise decision.", he grumbled over the sound of the chatting students.

Luna jumped up and hopped towards the podium where she came to halt, turned with her hands behind her back and whipped back and forth, continuing her humming. Throwing confused looks at him, which were ignored, the students went through the hall to join her. They all, like her, wore their school uniform. Harry noticed that there were no Slytherins among them. He knew the names of some, but most people he had just seen from the distance so far. However, there were the Patil twins who walked arm in arm. They even stopped behind Snape for a moment to look at his – hair.

"What is he doing here?", Padma whispered just loud enough Harry could hear her.

"I don't know. But he's washed his hair."

"Very charming, Miss Patil.", the girls jumped. "To obviously think _my hair_ is thick enough that I cannot hear you.", embarrassed, they hurried on, followed by Fay Dunbar and Susan Bones, who gave them questioning glances from the side.

The next minutes passed filled with whispering. Every now and then, someone would look at the teacher who seemed to be badly wrong in place to them. Then everyone turned at once to the small man who came hurrying into the hall, slamming the doors shut with his wand. As if he had been prepared, Snape didn't wince at all.

"Sorry!", Flitwick panted, a pile of paper on his left arm and a baton in his right hand which he had taken from the pocket he had put his wand into. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Peeves found it funny to – ", he nearly dropped the sheets when he spotted the person at the Gryffindor table. "Severus? What are you doing here?"

"Reading."

"But you know that we are having a choir practice now?"

"Oh, forgive me. I forgot why students would gather next to a piano, in the Great Hall, in the middle of the night.", he snorted.

"Uh oh. Still having that bad day?", Flitwick chuckled. "Whatever. You should know yourself how to leave when you don't stand it anymore. They will learn a new song today."

"Fantastic.", Snape sighed. "I will speak a silent prayer for you."

"Now, they aren't that horrible."

"We'll see."

"Yes, yes. Continue reading then.", he scurried on.

"As if you could stop me.", either Flitwick hadn't heard – or ignored it.

"Fine, line up everyone and hand these through, please.", he gave the pile to a Ravenclaw boy and went to the piano to get a tune. "Well, well. Got the tone? Good. Warm-up, if you please."

Having grown enough interest; and actually seeing no possibility to leave the hall without being noticed; Harry settled himself at the Hufflepuff table right where he had stopped and listened to the exercises. Five minutes later, Flitwick sat down on the high stool in front of the piano and gave the students some more tones so they knew how to start. He went through the different scores, nitpicking here and there, especially on the solo, which Harry found a bit unfair because the boy had a pretty good voice.

"Stop, stop, stop. Now Mr Withby, are you sure, you are feeling well? You sound as if you suffered from a cold."

"That is because his voice isn't made for it.", the boy blushed immediately at the groaned sentence.

"Oh he's perfectly made for that, Severus. You should hear what he normally can sing."

"But not this one. For how long has he been in the choir?"

"Two years."

"Well, if it took you two years to not figure out that he is a pure soprano, then I am terribly sorry for you. He can't sing the deep parts. Not even after that voice break that influenced his speaking horribly."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"Transpose the song."

"I beg you pardon?", even from the distance Harry could see some sort of terror rising in Flitwick's small eyes.

"You have understood me, Filius. Unless you wish to torture my ears or Whitby's throat, you will have to transpose it."

"This is an eight pages song! I can't just transpose it right now! And to which major anyway?"

"A flat, for example?"

"But this is in f flat and there are far too many notes."

"Don't tell me anything about that song. You know that I know it.", Harry was frankly surprised already. "And stop wailing. If you need help, ask.", he stood up, took off his reading glasses and marched towards the piano.

"What are you doing?", Flitwick earned himself a horrifying look, that much Harry could tell. "Alright, alright."

Snape put the glasses back on, cranked the stool down so he could sit properly and examined the score for a minute. Then he began playing, a little higher than the choir had sang before and got the students on his side from the first ten tones on. With visible amazement, they listened to his playing. When he was through the instrumental intro, he started singing – and Harry's heart dropped. Even though the still lasting effect of the potion dazed him a bit, the voice rushed through his veins and bones like electricity. Trembling, his lips drifted apart and his eyes opened more with every note.

Luna joined in, her face on him instead of the paper, apparently knowing the song good enough already. As angelic as her voice still was, there was also some strong, yet innocent touch to it. Slowly, more and more students sang their parts, but his voice was still sticking out, naturally, and so was Luna's. The beauty of the song paralysed Harry likewise as his voice did. One of the gilded doors of the hall was opened only enough for another boy to peek in. Harry recognised the pale face, fair hair and grey eyes. As stunned as Harry, Draco Malfoy listened, staring up to the podium.

The music became a little more quiet and subtle, the choir reduced. He sang in between with Luna, with increasing volume and vigorousness. Then, like a shower of glittering sparks on the night sky, the song climaxed with the full force of the choir and piano and the hair at Harry's neck stood totally straight up when he experienced the immense range and variety of his teacher's voice amidst them.

Flitwick just stood there, his baton limply in his hand, tears flowing over his cheeks. All, the choir, his and Luna's solo lines and the piano were completely different, but melted to a thrilling harmony. Harry tried to fight off the thought. He fought it hard. But the song even forced tears into his eyes. He fought against the feeling that it wasn't the song but his voice. He fought against – warmth. He battled that feeling of warming arms. Looking at Malfoy's mourning face was no help either. He gritted his teeth on the blurred, gloomy image of a face in half shadow, of dark eyes staring into his, so visibly happy like he had never seen them before. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. That was Felix Felicis hoaxing him.

The song was over, yet resounded on for some seconds between the high walls of the ancient hall. Just one more line from Luna into the quivering silence, and the subtle hint of a chord.

Flitwick took a deep breath and tried to wipe away his tears without being noticed. But he wasn't the only one, some of the choristers had glassy eyes as well. Malfoy's lips curled as he turned and looked straight into the boy's eyes. Harry saw sadness he was certain he would never see again and should better never think about ever either. Then the dark eyes slightly moved. And Harry's heart sank for the second time. It was just a brief moment before he looked back at the piano, but Harry could have sworn he had looked directly at him. It was the same kind of feeling he had had with Dumbledore four years ago in Hagrid's hut. Only – a little – more –

Harry swallowed. Could he see him or had it just been imagination? He looked down on himself, but he was still completely covered. If he could see him – all those moments he had run into him invisible when sneaking out at night – all those moments – he _had_ looked at him, Harry knew. But he had always thought he had imagined. Could it actually be that he had ignored him? If he had, that would mean –

Hermione's words in his head were the biggest pain now. _He saved your life and that must have a reason_. No, Harry thought. She was wrong. It was only imagination. A figment created by Felix Felicis. But the potion was fading, Harry felt it. Still. It _had_ been his father who had sung the song Luna had sung on the tower. It _had_ been his father, not – how could they have possibly let him touch their son anyway? No. It was late and he was under the influence of a potion. And the look had just been like that because he wore reading specs. Just like Dumbledore. Yes, it were the glasses. Absolutely. The – _glasses_ –

"Severus?", Flitwick squeaked.

"Yes?", staring at the piano, the answer was as cold as usual.

"Would you want to join the choir again?", _again?_

"This is a students-only choir.", he snorted, took off his specs and slipped them into a pocket of his robe.

"Oh come on. We could – ", Snape spun around on the piano stool, his hands on his thighs and pierced his eyes into Flitwick's; Harry could see him gritting his teeth behind his closed lips.

"What. Make a teachers' choir? Honestly, Filius. You know as much as I do that we two and Charity are the only ones among the entire Hogwarts staff that can keep a straight note."

"Horace – "

"Is a drunkard.", the whole choir gasped at the harshly spoken words. "Hoping for him to sing better when he is sober, is a hope in vain, not solely because the only times he is not drunk are while he has to hold classes. And I wouldn't dare betting on that either."

"Have you ever considered trying to find a cure for his problem?", already much taller when sitting, the fact that he stood up and looked down on his colleague made every visible confidence in Flitwick's face vanish at an instant.

"I have since I could brew a Forgetfulness Potion, believe me. And that was before I got my letter."

"Oh – I had no idea you knew him previous to school – "

"I thought you wouldn't get that one", he huffed. "However, no, I failed. Even my mother failed at this particular thing one day, when persuasion was not enough anymore. And that means a lot. There were not many things my mother didn't succeed at. So, first, teachers' choir, forget it. Second, you remember well, why I left your choir, so the answer is still no.", he counted ferociously on his fingers. "Third, when will you finally learn that once someone with at least a spark of musical talent has got a song in their ear, they don't need a whole script transposed to be able to sing it? They will look at the score and sing according to it from the tune you give them first. You can do the rest all during the time until the performance. Fourth, if you haven't noticed, the students are tired the morning after every practice. So, either set it earlier or to a Friday, or alternatively, a Saturday."

"Aha! You suddenly care – "

"And fifth, we have a curfew. Does that ring a bell? If you have to practice so late after dinner, write them a certificate that identifies them as members of your choir. I'm sick of telling the Aurors who's allowed out of bed at which day, at which time, and I'm not the only one. You should have heard Minerva last week when they didn't want to let Macmillan continue his shift just because he forgot his Prefect's badge."

"Now _you_ listen to me.", Flitwick raised his left index finger and got to his toes, which wasn't much of a difference, but actually quite impressive to watch. "Just because we have been colleagues for nearly sixteen years, it doesn't mean you can stand up against me and believe your size gives you the right to blame me in front of my choir."

"I was merely giving you some advices.", Snape champed through his teeth with rage. "But if you want to see it this way, I must sadly admit, I wasted my time. You know, there was a moment when I considered actually rejoining the choir. But you showed me this was only a useless illusion. If you excuse me now, a good book is waiting for me on that table,", he pointed at it, "And that, I believe, is a far better way to spend my spare time with than with trying to bring over pig-headed people like you."

The students were frozen in shock. None of them had ever witnessed him arguing like that, especially not with a colleague, for reasons they would have never guessed possible either. But he didn't care. He stormed off, directed his left hand on the book which closed and soared towards him, caught it and shoved it into his other pocket. Shortly before he reached the door, Draco Malfoy jumped back in surprise. The doors had fallen shut. Flitwick, the baton exchanged with his wand another time, pointed that stick on the heavy wings, trembling a little and gritting his teeth with a fury Harry had never seen on the otherwise so cheerful small man.

Snape slid to halt right next to Harry, his face straight at the doors. Harry startled. It was just a whisper, loud enough for only him to hear, but the words were spoken so fast he could hardly catch up with the information.

"Ingenious, how you even manage to profit from such terrible things as your pitiful Occlumency skills, Potter. You, and Gryffindor House, can call yourselves lucky that I turn a blind eye to your reason for sneaking out again. Ah yes, forgot, right? You have to deliver something, don't you? Well, when you find he has returned, also deliver him my congratulations on having created himself an obedient lapdog. You will leave this hall with me, Potter, and I don't want to see you again until breakfast, understood? Not a single time during my watch, which starts in fifteen minutes, neither visible, nor under that cloak of yours, got me?"

"I am not done with you yet!", Flitwick bellowed.

"But I am done with you, Filius."

He snapped with his fingers and to everyone's surprise, Flitwick's wand left his hand and clattered onto the floor. Snape rushed on so quick that Harry almost forgot to get up and follow him. Nevertheless careful not to step on his cloak or reveal himself in any other way, he walked after him in the same pace to the doors that stood ajar once more. A flick of panic on his face, Malfoy stared at his Head of House.

"You, come with me.", the boy did as he was ordered. "Honestly, how luckily stupid are you? There are Aurors patrolling the castle. Everyone knows whose son you are. What do you expect, they would do to you if they caught you wandering around? Giving you cookies? And a cup of freshly made hot chocolate to dip them in?", Harry hurried after them, down to the Dungeons. "What were you thinking?"

"I have work to do!", Malfoy hissed.

"Work you can do at daytime. You are a student. Being a Prefect doesn't excuse being out of bed at night _apart_ from your shift. That badge is no shield that will defend you against the Aurors. They will question you nevertheless, and believe me, they will do it in a thorough way that will make you wish you were capable of killing them to spare yourself from your fate. You know what they did to your father.", Malfoy winced at the mention. "These days, Aurors are as much saints as any Death Eater out there. So, unless you beg for it – "

"I don't.", Malfoy grumbled.

"Fine. Then your task is clear. Stick to the rules. Be an exemplary student. Work at day, sleep at night. It is as simple as this."

They turned into the last corridor before the one to the Slytherin common room and Snape stopped, grabbing Malfoy's right upper arm. Harry had to halt as well. Otherwise, they would have caught the sound of his steps. Unfortunately he was too far away to hear what Snape whispered into Malfoy's ear. The boy's eyes however widened and he looked up the inch of difference in their eyes' height from the ground, opening his mouth. But he was silenced by more words and swallowed. Then Harry saw something that surprised him more than anything else he had seen or heard on that utmost peculiar evening and the following half of the night: Snape removed his hand and laid it onto Malfoy's cheek instead. Covered from Harry by his hair, he gazed down at him for a moment before he patted gently on his shoulder.

"Go.", a simple word, his tone utterly concerned.

"I got – ", Malfoy started.

"Go now.", he lightly pushed him into the corridor. "Quick, before someone sees you."

"Well, I already – "

" _Go._ "

Staring after the boy, he shortly shook his head, turned and walked towards the invisible Harry, anger in every feature of his blue lit face. By his preparedness, Harry knew that he had noticed him following. Snape threw a brief look over his shoulder, making sure that Malfoy was gone.

"Although I consider him intelligent enough to have discovered that little habit of yours by now, I advise you not to tell him that you are spying on more people than the ones he orders you to. He might not take it too well."

"Why the ruddy heck can you see me?", Harry murmured.

"Why _the ruddy heck_ can you see me, _Sir_ , Potter. I don't recall having permitted you to speak to me like that somewhen in the past. So, unless you wish to throw another reckless phrase at me, I suggest you go to your dormitory, before I forget myself and loss of points is the least you need to worry about.", he snarled, but Harry felt enough of the potion left in his veins to believe he couldn't be harmed. "And as I said, it is quite possible that it does not please him to find out you are sneaking after people he does not consider being subject to your task. You do not wish this bit of information to be the last you confront him with."

"Is this a threat, _Sir_?"

"No, it is a warning that you should finally grow up and _think_ before you act. I hoped, all your little _accidents_ would for once have a positive effect on your brain and that you receive the message life is so desperately trying to send you. But it seems, I was wrong. And take that way there.", he pointed at the other side of the corridor fork.

"Why.", Harry crossed his arms under his cloak.

"Because, the Aurors are foolish enough to have a strict schedule. Any moment, one of them will come down the corridor we just walked through and he wears glasses, their function nothing short of Alastor Moody's eye.", Snape hissed, a vein pulsing at his temple which Harry hadn't seen in quite a while. "I assure you, Dumbledore does not wish more people to find out about your little secret.", he shortly seized a bit of the Invisibility Cloak, shook it and let go, his left arm still pointed into the corridor.

" _How can you see me?_ ", Harry repeated, dropping his arms lividly.

"And don't tell anyone else, _ever_. Understood?", Snape spat. "I will make sure nobody will talk about the events of the evening, but call yourself lucky that I leave you the choice to do with the information what you consider as – _wise_ , if that is even possible for you. So, everything you have seen and heard after you entered the hall stays between you and me and us alone. Otherwise, pray to your mother in Heaven that I may forgive you."

"How d– "

" _Get off!_ ", he barked, but quiet enough it could still be declared as a hiss.

Understanding that he had not really enough time for the potion to save him from Snape's rage, Harry held up the seams of his cloak and rushed into the corridor that eventually led him upstairs and into the Entrance Courtyard. He dropped the fabric and crashed with his back against a pillar of the archway. There was that Auror Snape had mentioned. The man actually wore odd glasses that sat like a rim around his entire head. He gave the front gate an opening wave of his wand and Harry waited for him to disappear, but the man stopped in place. Harry's heart pounded so loud he feared it would give him away. Though the reason for the man coming to halt was another.

"Oi!", it was Slughorn; out of sight; who had apparently woken up and returned to the castle while Harry had been in the hall.

"Identification?", the Auror pointed his wand at him.

"Prufffesssur Horrrace, Erric, Fredderric Slughoorn,", he sang dull, "Potions Maaster of zhis scho-ol an' Head off Slyth-herinn Hoouse. Uh well, fargif me my bad pronnounciciation. I hadda little late-night drrrrink with a collleague.", the Auror lowered his wand. "Grrreat work, ya do there, boy. Mind a walk?"

"Oh come on, Horace. We were in the same class. Don't you ever stop calling me `boy´?", the Auror laughed and entered the castle, strangely forgetting about the open gate.

Harry saw this as his chance and rushed to one of the doors, peering in. The men were gone, but so was the effect of the potion. He could just walk in properly before the huge wings closed on their own. Worried now, he looked out for any sign of someone who might have possibly done that to the gate, but there was no one to be seen. He could still hear the choir practising in the Great Hall. Flitwick was really mad to let them do that at such a time. What time was it anyway? Harry checked his watch. Five minutes after midnight. In case he might stumble over his cloak, he decided to climb up the marble staircase close to the right handrail.

Even though running past him only three feet away, Harry couldn't see the man who leaned lazily against the short border pillar of the handrail, his arms and legs crossed and a concerned smirk on his face as he looked after the boy who didn't know that it was his father who had just sent him the drunk teacher whom he had confunded to distract the Auror. Like so many times, he didn't see. But as wonderful as it would be, the risk would be too big, the result too fatal.

Severus' smile fell into sadness when his head turned back to the floor and his arms sank. Taking a deep breath, he composed and pushed himself off the pillar. Silently, he walked upstairs, in a different direction than Harry.

~~#~~


	28. Chapter 27 - Recollecting the Past

– Chapter 27 –

 **Recollecting the Past**

"You're okay?"

She could understand it fully. The way he leaned on his right arm, his forehead buried in the fist, the squinted eyes – he wasn't tired, something troubled him. And by the way he curled his lips, she knew this was how she felt inside when thinking of the moment Dumbledore wouldn't be just absent, like he was again from the staff table, but gone forever. Had he found out? Had he put one and one together and figured, that the search was probably not the only thing that kept the old man busy? Did he know Dumbledore was dying? Or was it rather – what she knew Ron had meant to achieve by asking? Because, he precisely put the full weight of his head onto the scar.

But neither the concerned looks, nor Ron's words had made a thou of a change on Harry's face. Either he had indeed miraculously fallen asleep in exactly that state without his muscles slackening, or his thoughts were so far away, they needed probably a bucket full of icy water to bring him back to his breakfast that laid untouched on the plate between his elbow and an old book from the library. Since it was opened and she sat on the other side of the table, she hadn't bothered finding out what it was about. But now that Ron brandished his hand before Harry's face so as to startle him – yet unsuccessfully – the gust made a page turn.

Probably it was her trained eye, but the pages she now got to see were dealing with the Disillusionment Charm and its varying efficiency in regard of the caster's abilities. The lower end of the second page indicated that it was possible for very powerful witches and wizards to cast the charm in a manner it would require – what it would require and what it actually was that required something, she would only find out if she borrowed the book herself, or Ron managed to flip the page again. Yet whatever it would be, it certainly made no difference to their friend's appearance.

"Is it your scar?", Ron indeed asked what she had predicted. "Harry?", and not even now he would react and Ron only looked at her, pleading. "Has he been petrified or something?"

"No idea.", she shook her head honest and worried. "Harry?", also her try was –

An extremely delighted and purely natural laugh came from the staff table, turning not only their heads for a moment. And lastly Harry's head slid from his fist, his slowly opening eyes moving towards the source. Whatever it had been, Severus leant on his right arm in an alarmingly similar way as Harry had, but his upward rolled eyes and the curled lips were of clear annoyance. To his left, Professor Burbage had meanwhile lost the capability of controlling her laughter, probably fuelled by something he had added then before his lips returned to their state. More hanging in her chair already, she quivered against the backrest, eventually almost all eyes in the already half empty hall on her. Only Severus still stared at the ceiling.

Slughorn on her other side however, had become ashen and appeared close to having to face the decision whether he should throw up whatever he had had for breakfast so far or solely burst into tears. The sight was so distracting that Hermione only noticed Harry was gone, when he was already halfway to the gilded doors with the book. There was a loud scratching sound and the heavy ball that was Slughorn, heaved himself up from his chair and slouched to the back door. While her laugh still resounded in the otherwise silent hall, he pushed it open and slammed it shut behind.

"Would you two mind – ", McGonagall started.

Looking at either in exchange, from her position she obviously couldn't see what the majority of the others in the hall did: His eyes still at the ceiling in some distance, the lips transformed to an utmost malicious, yes, downright triumphant smirk and Burbage, calming down to a grinning chuckling, held her flat hand up. There was a loud clap.

"What the fuck – ", Ron gargled, not alone among equal or similar assessments. "Did they just high five? Did they _really_ just – ?"

"You can calm down. He's gone.", Severus sighed and the annoyance was back, if he though changed neither the position of his head, nor his eyes in specific.

"He's never – gonna – forget that.", the woman grinned on, took a deep and helped herself to a glass of water.

"Neither will anybody else. Didn't you say, one of your former classmates has connections to the Obliviator Headquaters?", she nearly choked on the water.

"Honestly?", the chuckle wasn't fully gone, nor was the grin. "I mean, I don't know, he's dropped out last year. It'd be faster to kill them all."

"Don't tempt me.", Severus murmured slow to the arches. "Where're you – ", he jerked up as she had raised and now went towards the back door as well.

"I'd better go checking whether he strings himself up.", she snickered on her way, his eyes drilling into her back. "If he does, Albus'll have us both sacked and regardless of my hair colour, I'm not a potato."

"Are you actually meaning to apologise?", he moaned.

"Do I look like Albus? Hell, no. I'm _just a little_ cut short.", with a huff, he too raised and went after her, fast enough to catch up before she reached the door. "What now? You too?"

"Shut it. I've had enough tea to drown the Squid."

Her laughing back to the otherwise flabbergasted hall, she laid her arm around his back and opened the door for them. McGonagall meant to verbally halt them.

"You two do though know that you are a month too late for April F– ", the door fell shut, "Ools."

All she could do was give the door, staff table and even middle corridor a long sigh when turning her head back. Her big eyes flicked around for some moments, but shaking her head, she eventually returned to the rest of her breakfast, while a quiet murmur filled the hall once again.

"Are they married or what?", both Ginny's and Hermione's head zoomed at him, being the only ones left at the Gryffindor table apart from some seventh-years further down by the doors.

"What the – ", his sister breathed.

"I mean, they're really getting weirder every day. Sure, they've been taunting Slughorn all throughout the year, but that was – weird. _Really_ weird."

"Yes, it was.", Hermione said cold, but felt something boiling inside.

"Hey what – ", Ginny got up.

"I'll better get going.", she sighed.

"To where? I thought you had a free period?", Hermione called after her, distracted enough to instantly forget about Ron – for the moment.

"I do. But I gotta get Luna off the Quidditch Pitch before we'll see whether Slughorn shows up for class or has actually hung himself."

"What's she be doing on the Pitch?"

"Dunno. Stroking Thestrals, I guess."

"St- what?"

"No idea!", Ginny sang, her back on them. "She said she'll be there, that's all."

"Blimey. Have they all gone mad now?"

"I don't know, Ron.", Hermione sighed to the empty space before her as she had already cleared her plate, which was gone.

"But you can't deny it's curious."

"Huh?"

"That now. And they've been hanging around together a lot, lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?", Hermione's open coldness was back, so was that strange anger.

"I may have been hormonally passed out for some months,"

"Not only hormonally,", she huffed.

"But is there something going on nobody knows? I mean, they've already been strange last year, haven't they? In the Hospital Wing? And he's been defending her against Umbridge all year."

"He has defended quite a number of people against Umbridge, if you should not have dared to open your eyes,"

"Sure, but if you think about it, she's seeking his presence a lot, isn't she? And he doesn't seem too averse."

"Ron, they are friends."

"Friends.", he frowned with obvious disbelief.

"Yes. They already were as students. He gave her tutoring in Potions, and they became friends.", she was momentarily angry enough to reveal that, and it was not like Burbage had asked her to shut up about it when she had told her, had she?

"Pfuh!", Ron chuckled. "Really?", she said nothing. "I mean, okay, but – look, I know it's really unlikely for him to make bonds of any sorts, other than hateful, but there's clearly something – "

"Are you honestly trying to ship Snape?"

"Er – ship? What?"

"Oh, sorry, that is a rather new term among Muggles, describing the action of fictionally bringing people into a romantic relationship who aren't supposed to be in such.", her coldness towards him remained, so did her piercing stare into his blue eyes.

"Oh. Wait – now that you said – ship – what? No! Listen – ", Ron stammered at her shaking head.

"Sure. Who's next?"

"Next?"

"Well, first you tried to pair him off with Karkaroff, remember? And now it's supposed to be Burbage? Why must he, to you, of course be married to anyone who is scurrying around him?"

"What?"

"Why, yes, two years ago he was gay and illegally married to his former Death Eater fellow and now that one is dead and – _bam_ – he immediately marries his colleague,"

"Hermione – "

"Of course. After all, we are talking about Snape here. After all, he must have been dating the whole school already, the most sociable guy of all."

"Hermione!", Ron laughed, but still tried to keep their conversation at a lower volume. "I'm not – pairing him off! It's just – do I have to remind you, it was you who told Harry and me that we should stop acting as though Snape wasn't capable of getting himself into some decent friendships?"

"Get to the point, Ronald."

"Sure, the odds are probably as high as for Harry snogging Draco Malfoy, but – and I already did, didn't – I? Hermione?"

"Yes?", she knew her inner boiling must have become visible at last, due to the heat on her cheeks and she pressed her teeth shut.

"You – have – is there something I should know?", he eyed her with a mix of concern and a striking sort of discomfort from whatever thoughts there must be spinning in his head – and she just hoped –

"No, he's not snogging Malfoy."

"I know – but you've been – defending Snape – all along – I – "

"What?", jerking from her glare with a murmur; partly real as well as played; she truly hoped it was enough.

"Nothing – I – ", Ron went blank.

" _Me?_ When I asked `who's next´, I wasn't actually expecting you to be – "

"Sorry – I didn't mean – no – "

"Save your breath.", she huffed, seized her bag and jumped up.

"Hermione!"

"You'll need it for when I return to strangle you."

Squinting shortly to the Entrance Hall, she disappeared there, upstairs.

~~#~~

"Good afternoon, Severus.", he startled, spinning on the heels. "I see, you have discovered the delight of spending free time with watching the landscape change in the sunlight?", Severus turned back around with a sigh and leaned against the parapet again, clutching the small object in his hand.

"I am up here more often than you might guess.", he huffed, his eyes drifting over the school grounds.

"So am I.", the calm voice said as he drew closer, his hands behind his back. "On his way to the Great Hall for preparation, Filius dropped me the information; quite upset, I must say; that you overreacted in one of his choir practices some time ago?"

"Does he say so?", Severus grumbled, avoiding the Headmaster's look. "Well, maybe you would like to hear my version as well?"

"Indeed, Severus, indeed.", he gave up trying to look past the curtain of black hair; instead, his eyes shortly fell on the thin, swaying chain hanging from Severus' fist.

"He is arrogant, selfish, and has not learned a thing over the years.", Severus snapped, staring at the lake's surface glistening in the low sunlight.

"Oh I will not argue on this with you.", Albus sighed. "He is one of a kind, our Filius.", a grunt from the other man. "Now tell me, Severus, how are you and Miss Granger doing?"

"Why does that interest you so much?"

"Because I care for your welfare, you know that."

"That's what Horace keeps saying as well."

"In fact, he does care for his students."

"Oh yes.", Severus chuckled utmost ironic. "But it does not help anyone trying to tell you what lies behind. Who would believe me, you see?"

"And what would this be, Severus?"

"Haven't you noticed the way he looks at Harry?", his head was on Albus, despair written all over.

"Of course I have. After he figured that I put Harry on retrieving his true memory, he has been avoiding the boy. But that is over and off the table since Harry has, at last, succeeded."

"Guess, I know.", Severus snorted and turned back to the grounds.

"You do?"

"He was stupid enough to sneak into the hall after his success.", Albus was visibly surprised.

"Did he?", a curt nod. "So you have let him get away with this?", a chuckle from Albus.

"He has enough trouble to deal with already."

"Ah, I see. You – "

"No, you don't. You don't see anything at all. Otherwise you would know what I was talking about. So I ask you again, have you happened to notice at any rate the ways he looks at Harry?"

"Now what are you driving at,"

"You should probably pay Azkaban a visit and ask Lucius."

"What does Lucius Malfoy have to do with this?"

"He relished those looks."

"Ah, yes. Now I can remember. Attention-seeking, he was, young Lucius. Always in for some fame; a pity where it has brought him."

"You still don't get it. I swore to myself that I would never tell anyone, but I'm afraid, I cannot hold it back any longer. Lucius was one thing. He wanted it and he was of age, lastly. So were several others. But Harry is something else. That is _just_ a little bit too far over the border. Incredible, how you can still trust your own eyes so completely when they have been blind to even such people as Gellert Grindelwald. I can understand that you like Horace. He doesn't make it easy for one to not to. But it disgusts me to be aware of his ulterior motives. It disgusts me that you refuse to see facts when you became fixated on an opinion. One thing, you and Harry strangely have in common."

"So do you. Each and everyone has, in ways. Therefore, given the fact you have become so skilled not even I can pick a teensy bit of information from your head, why won't you tell me what disgusts you so much about Horace Slughorn?"

"It disgusts me, that after all these years he has taught here without being caught by you, I could still not turn him in."

"Turn him in for what?"

"Open your eyes, Albus!", he moaned at the old man, his features distorted with woe. "This man is as much a saint as those three rapists you have agreed to guard the students out of Hogsmeade!"

"Pardon me, Severus?", Albus frowned.

"'E's a goddamn' paedophile!"

"That is a very heavy accusation – "

"An' ye refuse ter see it jus' 'cause 'e's go' sum' brillian' mind! Jus' like ye refused ter see tha carnivore inside Grindelwald 'til yer own brother crushed tha' nose o' yers, probably hittin' tha righ' nerve tha' woke ye from yer daydream! Ye know, sum'times I find meself close ter pay 'im a visi' an' ask 'im fer tha precise spo'!"

"Severus, keep your voice down.", Albus gave him a warning look. "Or you will be heard through any open window of this castle."

"Shall 'ey know! Shall 'ey know wha' 'eir former an' new Potions Master is! I dun' 'ate Horace an' I dun' care wha' 'e does as lon' as 'ose 'e wishes ter dig 'is filthy fingers in, agree! Bu', ye excuse me, tha way 'is greedy eyes drill inter Harry's is too much fer me!"

"So I was right, then? That it isn't just Lily? That you actually care for her boy?", Severus' shoulders sank. "How much, Severus? Has he become like a son for you already?", and back was the fury.

"Dun' – ", he raised a finger in protest, but failed to impress.

"Don't I _what_ , Severus? Face you with your emotions? James Potter's son; have you actually started to care for him, as I guessed, or even more, like he was your own? Have you grown the feelings of a father?"

"Dun' ye talk ter me like ye knew wha' a father feels!", he shook his head, tears coming. "Dun' ye talk as if ye knew wha' it's like ter 'ave a son! Ye know nuthin' 'bou' it, ol' man!", his fist, the chain jumping, was held up ferociously in front of Albus' chest as he threw his dialect at the other man's face.

"And what do you know about it, Severus?", the Headmaster remained calm. "You never were much of a father, to no one. You cannot know – "

" _Ye_ 're tha one who doesn' know anythin'. Ye dun' know tha pain when ye know yer child hur' or even see it happen. Ye dun' know tha agony when ye yerself are tha one ter do it – "

"Forgive me, Severus, but you are speaking of things you have no idea of.", Albus remained staid, though couldn't fully hide his disarray.

"Dun' ye say tha' as if ye knew me – dun' ye – tell me – tha' _ye_ know wha' – it's like – ", heavy tears ran from his dark eyes when he spoke with a shaking and now quiet, but still thronging voice, "Ter keep 'avin' ter look – at yer own son – an' no' bein' allowed ter hold 'im – ter tell 'im – ter – ter play tha arsehole in fron' o' 'im – jus' ter – save 'is life! _Dun' ye_ , Dumbledore!"

Albus' jaw dropped with real shock. Somewhere below, a door opened. Severus' tear-washed face turned and he rushed off, downstairs, the iron steps clanking loudly under his shoes. For a moment, Albus could only stare at where Severus' face had left. Then he hurried after him.

"What was this, Severus?", he moaned but the only answer he got was fierce stomping. "Don't run away from me!", he shouted after him.

"What the – ", another voice said, some floors down. "Severus? What – ", more footsteps, speeding upwards.

Halfway up the tower, she caught him. Stumbling, he tried to get past, but didn't manage to gain enough strength to push her arms off him. Drained at last, he fell onto her and sobbed heavily into her shoulder. Albus froze at the sight.

"What did you do to him?", Hermione moaned at the Headmaster. "What did you say?"

"I – ", he pondered, "What are _you_ doing _up here_ , Miss Granger?"

"I was worried because he missed lunch again – so I went looking. Severus – what happened?", she then whispered through his hair into his ear, holding him close.

"I – ", the fingers of his left hand clutched into the fabric on her back while the right fist just dangled between them, the chain of the locket following its movement. "I – t-"

"Severus – ", Albus aspirated, "Is that true? Is that – really – "

"I – t-tol' – 'im.", he only panted into Hermione's shoulder, hanging on her like a black sack.

"Told him what?", she asked softly.

"'B-bou' Harry.", his entire body was shaking heavily in her arms, but she just closed her eyes with a sigh. "W-wha' 'e is – "

"That's good.", Hermione sighed.

"No, it isn'!", Severus cried.

"Sh. It is."

"You knew, Miss Granger?"

"Of course I knew, Professor. Unlike you, I _do_ listen to him."

~~#~~

"You will wait here for me. I try having another word with Severus. Maybe he has calmed down in the meantime."

With these words, Dumbledore dropped her in his office – and she knew that they were a hope in vain. Dim rays of golden sunlight fell through the old windows and on all sorts of things. Rows of books, peculiar instruments – and Fawkes sitting on his bar. The Phoenix slightly raised his head when the door was closed, but went back to sleep right after. All portraits on the walls were empty. He had sent them away. At least he had _some_ sympathy for her, she thought. It would have been horror to wait there alone, all eyes of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts on her.

Studying her surrounding, she walked further into the office and – startled. Then a grunt escaped her. She seemed to really have a talent for this. The doors of a cabinet in a corner had opened when she had stepped onto the stone plate. But it wasn't a gramophone this time. It was a gilded vitrine, filled with hundreds of shining phials and a flat silver bowl resting on a sort of mirror-surrounded pillar that was revealed to her. She knew it to be his Pensieve and an obvious collection of memories. Getting curious, she stepped closer.

Marvelled, she looked at the phials, each of them labelled with delicate handwriting. One particular phial caught her attention. Hermione did a glance over her shoulder to check whether the portraits in her sight were still empty. She then carefully opened one of the fragile doors and picked the phial. The silvery copy of a memory floated in it like mist. ` _Mrs Snape and son Severus, summer 1972_ ´ she read silently. It was about him – as a child – and his mother. Could she resist? Could she – no. Eager to find out what it was, she pulled the crystal stopper and poured the memory into the mirroring surface of whatever medium it was that the Pensieve carried. The silver haze became a black, ink-like liquid as it sank. She placed the empty phial on the edge of the post, took a deep breath and dove her head in.

Loud splashing noises. Heavy rain fell on the cobblestones and dark roofs of the many identical grey brick houses, separated by narrow alleyways. The sky was as grey with clouds, and smoke rose from the chimneys. However, Hermione remained dry. It took her some seconds to realise who was walking past, wearing a black hooded coat and – holding an umbrella. She followed him to a door where he knocked four firm times.

"Who is there?", the muffled voice of a woman called from inside. "Identify yourself!"

Hermione looked up to the first floor where a light burnt in a window above the door. A rather small silhouette leant against it. She could see the blurred image of black hair. The child sat with its back at the window, obviously on some furniture that stood there, maybe a desk.

"It is I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I have written to you about my coming past week. The last words I have spoken to you personally more than twenty years ago were, ` _I am proud to see how far you developed during your education. May you succeed in everything you do in your life_ ´."

The lock clicked. A long black wand in her right hand, a pale woman peered out. She was approximately four inches smaller than Hermione and had a rather sullen face, but there was a faint, worried smile on her lips. The dark eyes framed with round metal-rimmed glasses were exactly those Hermione had looked into so deeply many times already. Her son had inherited them, just like his own son would have his mother Lily's eyes then, years later. Long black waves fell down to both sides of the sallow skin and onto her old-fashioned, tight black dress that looked like her own mother could have worn it already.

"Good afternoon, Professor.", she said hollow and stepped aside. "Please do come in. Shall I – "

"Oh, not necessary, thank you."

Right in the moment he was inside, the wet umbrella and coat were gone, revealing a short blue robe that perfectly matched the bright colour of his eyes. His hair and beard were a bit more grey than the silvery white Hermione knew. She followed them past a dark wooden staircase and through another door on the other side of the narrow anteroom. The small room behind it, leading into a window-side kitchen, was quite drab, yet cosy.

Two old armchairs stood by the fireplace, an oval mirror hung above the mantelpiece. Hermione had the strange feeling that it possessed another layer that was only visible at a closer look. A layer in which she believed to see faces with hollow eyes staring back. It made her so uncomfortable that she decided to take her eyes off it and examine the rest of the room.

The walls were entirely covered by shelves, filled with all sorts of old books that took in every possible space. Left to the door-less arch to the kitchen was another window, a small desk and a chair in front. The kitchen was brighter than the sitting room, but the once white walls had gotten slightly grey over the years. So had the cream coloured cupboards. Mrs Snape offered the Headmaster one of the armchairs by the burning fire.

"Would you like something? Tea, perhaps?", her pronunciation was uncommonly clear and Hermione understood that otherwise she might also drift into that strange dialect Severus slipped more often.

"Oh no, thank you. I am afraid, I will not be here for too long. These are tough times, you see; I have work to do apart from Hogwarts as well."

"I do see.", she sat down on the other armchair, very straight, legs together and her hands on her thighs. "There are rumours that _he_ is gathering more followers."

"True. Things are getting worse.", Dumbledore sighed and sat down as well, the tips of his fingers laid together above his crossed legs. "But do not fear for your son."

"I don't. He knows to take care of himself, much more than I do, by now.", she shortly lifted her bandaged right hand in which she still gently held her wand. "What is it that you want? You said nothing in the letter."

"Of course not. Writing openly is dangerous these days. Even for someone like me. They have been trying to recruit you?"

"They had. But I have other plans with my life."

"I can secure your house, if that is your wish."

"I don't need your protection, Professor. You may not have noticed, but you could only enter this house because I let you in. It is rather the Evans' house, you should care about."

"They are Muggles."

"Exactly. And my son's friendship with their daughter Lily might bring them in danger. Her sister is a nosy little brat, spreading the news about what a ` _freak_ ´ Lily is. It will not be long and they will hunt them. If you want my son to be well, make this Petunia shut her mouth.", Hermione couldn't fully push aside the amazement on how calm she spoke, not moving her big eyes from Dumbledore's.

"I will see what I can do."

"Wonderful. So, to repeat myself, what brings you here?"

"Your son, naturally. He is a very unusual student."

"Now is he?", there was the flicker of a smile on her lips, gone as fast as it had come.

"Indeed, yes. He comes very much after his mother.", Dumbledore smirked, looking over his half-moon glasses. "Talented in everything he approaches, enthusiastic on learning hard, correct – in some way,"

"Some way?"

"Alas, to be honest, the teachers are complaining.", Mrs Snape raised an eyebrow. "One especially. Professor Slughorn."

"He tends to complain on being beaten, before he then takes a photo of that student to place it on his disgusting shelf."

"Ah yes. That shelf. But you must see, your son does too well in the subject already. Horace fears, that within another year, he will reach N.E.W.T. standard. I will not tell you how to treat your child, I merely suggest you to hold back on what you teach him."

"Is it a crime to prepare him for life?", her thick eyebrow fell, both of them narrowing now.

"No, no, of course not!", Dumbledore sang, worried. "But he is just a child!"

"One would think, I should know better what he is, not? After all, I am his mother? Severus has many interests and I do not bring anything near him he does not want to learn. I do in fact tell him if I cannot consider it wise to teach him this or that. He always accepts my decision and can wait patiently. If you are here to tell me how to be a better mother, then you are at the wrong address, which, given your brilliant mind, you should be aware of."

"It is not my intention to give you any more lessons, not at all. Your life had enough of them for you already.", there was not a change in her slightly angry expression.

"What do you want."

"Due to a peculiar talent of his to find the cleverest ways to avoid me, it had been impossible for me to speak to Severus at Hogwarts. So I – "

"So you thought, you just come over and say ` _hello_ ´? Interrogating him?"

"Not nearly as rude as this, no. I would only like to ask him a few questions, if you allow."

"Severus, dear?", she remained calm, speaking as if her son stood only feet away. "Would you mind coming down, please? You have a visitor."

Seconds later, a door banged open and hastily running footsteps echoed in. For a moment, Hermione couldn't hold herself. He was actually cute looking, his chin-length black hair standing off from his temples down and his big dark eyes beaming with the broad grin his mouth formed above the white shirt and black trousers of apparently his school uniform he had already grown out of. Though the grin was gone immediately when he saw who was sitting opposite to his mother.

"A good afternoon to you, Severus.", Dumbledore said. "I see from your reaction, you rather expected your friend Lily? Well, I am sorry to disappoint you so terribly.", the boy turned on the heels and wanted to leave the room already, but his mother stopped him.

"Severus.", she said softly and the chair from the desk moved over to them, turning in mid-glide, without a movement of hers. "Why don't you sit down and let him have his word?", Hermione could see his shoulders lift and sink again, but didn't hear the sigh. "It will not take long, I am sure of it."

Hermione moved over to the fireplace when he turned and approached the chair to sit down, just like his mother, equally straight, his hands and legs in the same position. His eyes as well, pierced straight into Dumbledore's. But there was no anger, it was a kind of sadness, yet a kind she hadn't seen on his older self so far.

"Did you rob your eyes again, sweetheart?", Mrs Snape said concerned.

"It is nothing."

"You should read more delightful books."

"It isn't the books.", he still looked at Dumbledore whose blue eyes moved between the pairs of dark ones. "It's the letters."

"The letters?", the old man got curious.

"They hurt my eyes after a while. Become blurred."

"I see.", Dumbledore nodded. "Would you mind getting a book from one of those shelves around us?"

"Which one?"

"Oh – any.", Severus stretched out his hand and a book flew straight into it, visibly surprising Dumbledore. "Now that is interesting.", he mumbled.

"Excuse me, Sir, but what is so interesting?"

"That you can summon objects nonverbal and without a wand. You truly are a very talented young man."

"That is not a talent, no matter what Professor Slughorn might have told you. None of what I do. I am just not as lazy and insecure as the others are.", Hermione could spot a held back a sheepish smile.

"Very well. Now open this book and read from it.", there was a longer pause, then Severus sent the book back to the shelf. "What is this? Refusal?"

"You do not want me to read from that particular book, Sir."

"Then why did you summon it?"

"You said, `any´."

"Indeed,", Dumbledore chuckled, "That is what I said. Forgive me my mindlessness. Perhaps,", he raised a finger and opened a blue pouch that hung on his belt, taking an ancient looking book from it, "This one then.", he gave it to Severus who examined the fragile, stained binding; Hermione saw that the title was written in runes. "I have noticed that you eagerly studied the meaning of runes already."

"There is no need for me to read from it. Which part do you wish to hear, Professor?"

"You know the Tales then?"

"Name me a single child of non-Muggle-only descent that has not heard Beedle's tales and I will recite the entire book to you right now, whether it is in English or Gaelic, you may chose.", Severus said curtly.

"That might just be true.", considered Dumbledore. "Then tell me, what do you think of the Tale of the Three Brothers?", Mrs Snape sat up even more straight than already, but her son remained stiff.

"You are not here to question me about myths, Sir."

"In fact, I am not entirely sure anymore. So you think it is only a myth?"

"Until proven fact reveals itself to one's consciousness, a human being can never be sure of what is real and what not.", Hermione knew very well that Severus was totally different, but that didn't sound like a twelve year old boy anymore; not only to her, but not to Dumbledore either.

"Very wise words from a child. Who taught you those?"

"No one.", he said brief and obviously honest.

"Are you sure?", Dumbledore looked over his glasses again, raising his right eyebrow.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"Oh no, not at all! I was just wondering – never mind.", Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in the armchair, his fingers together again. "What do you think of James Potter?"

The child's look didn't change, but he got up and went for the door again, leaving the ancient book floating to Dumbledore's lap. This time it was the old man who stopped him.

"Severus – ", the boy halted in the frame. "I am sorry. I should have known that you do not wish to talk about him. I was only curious to find out whether he hurts you."

"And why would that be of your interest? Even if he did, you would not intervene."

"What makes you think?"

"Because that perpetual arrogance knows to set himself borders. He knows how far to go without pushing over the limits."

"So he _does_ hurt you?"

"There are some sorts of wounds, no one can see.", Severus snorted. "And he is unaware of such, as much as everyone else. But I will not let him hurt Lily, no. He is a coward when he is alone. He does not threat me at all, Sir. You should rather worry about him than me. He is the one who will get himself in trouble by his wish to bathe in glory.", the fury was conspicuous, even though he had continued rather calm. "He will fall just like his father.", Severus added very quietly, almost impossible to hear over the cracking of the fire.

"What was this?", Dumbledore sat up, the book still on his lap.

"The truth, Professor."

"Ah well, if you say so, I will not question you about him any further.", he took the book and exchanged it with another from his pouch. "Why don't you sit back down and try this book for instance?"

"Why?"

"Let an old man follow his suspicions, if you please,", Dumbledore waved to the chair with the book in hand and Severus sighed; he then shuffled back over, snatched the book from him and sat down, opening it at a seemingly random page.

" _It was a clear autumn morning_ ,", he started reading, " _When Mary left the empty house for the lonesome walk she had been longing for so much. The rain had washed the streets, though unable to carry away the fallen leaves. Flat and wet, they were glued to the ground. Thoughts spinning in her head. She had hoped for the cool air to wipe them away, but they seemed burnt in so deeply, she would have to get a knife and cut them out manually. In honesty, she had considered actually doing this, but there was no knife in her house that would be sharp enough to break a skull_. _Not yet._ "

Hermione's eyes widened at the words. How could Dumbledore possibly let a twelve year old boy read that book? Aloud? But both Severus and his mother were quite indifferent to the words. He was a very good reader, Hermione thought.

" _A stray dog vanished into the next alley, unimpressed by her presence. Nobody cared. She could see a curtain close from the corner of her eye. It slightly amused her how much people had gotten to fear her. But it was their own fault. All their fault. Why becoming a logger when expecting to die from an axe? Why taking a job as a taxi driver when fearing to lose life in a car accident? They only got what they had been seeking for. They were afraid of dying. So was she, somehow. She feared herself. How ironic it was that she had written a letter the evening before. It laid up on her desk. Maybe she should lock it away. It was not the time yet to go. More fear had to be banished from the world_.", every few words, Severus blinked. " _So much fear. Fear could kill. They had to learn. Who else would tell them, if not she? If god had a plan, why shouldn't she be included? After all, Father Abraham prayed for the lost ones nearly every Sunday. Why shouldn't it be her, to be the one to help them find salvation?_ ", the longer he read, the more Severus' eyes blinked.

"Severus,", Dumbledore interrupted him, taking off his glasses.

"Yes?"

"Would you – try those?", the boy blinked another time, confused about why he held his glasses towards him. "Just try, all right?"

"Why – "

"Try.", a warm smile; Severus knew as much as Hermione that it was saying `take them or I'll force them onto your nose´.

"If you insist, Professor,"

"Certainly, I do."

Severus huffed, grabbed them and put them on. They were a bit too large, but he managed to make them sit on his nose and ears. Then he continued reading.

" _There was a distant – sound – drawing – her attention –_ ", his forehead wrinkled like Hermione had never seen it before and he looked up to Dumbledore, keeping his astonished gaze.

"Far better, is it?", the man smirked.

"Yes – ", Severus aspirated, shortly staring back at the book and at him again.

"My dear boy, you need reading glasses."

"I – that's – ", he slightly blushed to the book.

"Nothing to be ashamed of.", Dumbledore chuckled bemused.

"But – glasses are expensive!", Severus moaned.

"Ah well, I knew you could be saying this. Let me see – ", he pushed his hand into the pouch once more and pulled some Galleons.

"No.", Mrs Snape said hastily. "I will not accept charity from you, Dumbledore. I can – "

"Don't be silly. You cannot mend your son's eyesight magically.", the smile stayed, but his words were cold as he let the Galleons fly to a casket on the mantelpiece, where they locked themselves in. "He loves reading. It would be a shame if it ruined his life.", the doorbell rang. "I think, I will be going now.", and Severus handed back what wasn't his; Dumbledore raised when his glasses rested on his crooked nose. "You have my gratitude for your patience. Both of you."

He blew a quiet whistle through his fingers and a flame erupted in mid air, transforming into a big red bird that stayed floating there, flailing heavily. Dumbledore seized its leg and was gone in another flame. In the very same moment, her view became black fog and she felt herself rise from the Pensieve automatically.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped back a little, looking at the empty phial. Only now, she realised that she had no idea how to get the memory extract back in. Though it occurred that there was no need for it.

"Found out anything of interest, Miss Granger?", the Albus Dumbledore from today said behind her, making her rush around in shock. "No worries.", he gently raised a hand. "I will not blame you for your curiosity."

"So?", Hermione returned mentally to where she had been before he had left the room. "Did _you_ find out anything of interest, Sir?"

"Ah well,", he sighed exhausted, "I am afraid, Severus is as much a wall as he had been in his youth. He used to be a highly skilled Occlumens very early already."

"Well, then you'd better accept that, Professor.", she pouted. "If he didn't tell you anything, I won't either. I swore not to tell and I keep my promises. If he's more to you than just an object to study, you'd be well advised to take things like he presents them to you. If you excuse me, Sir, I have homework to do."

Leaving the Headmaster aghast and the door open, she stormed out of his office. Passing walls without paying attention to her surrounding, she hurried down a corridor and into the big tower with the Moving Staircases. One of them changed when she climbed it. A little frustrated, she took a detour over two lower floors. Finally she arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The woman was talking to someone.

"I do not see any need for you to hang out in front of me.", she spoke to a curled up black ball on the landing. "What are you doing this for? Is it a girl again?", no answer. "The – Granger girl?", Hermione could see him wince at the name. "Serves you right, dating a student. Tz. That couldn't have gone well."

"Oh shut up if you don't know what this is about!", Hermione hissed, making several portraits in the near and him startle up – his face was smeared with tears. "And she's right, Severus. You can't just sit there like this. What if a – "

"Exactly.", the Fat Lady murmured. "You excuse me,", she swung open, missing him by about an inch, revealing Ginny.

"I knew that was your voice – ", the girl said frowning. "What's going on? Whom is she arguing with? Whom are _you_ arguing with?"

"Is anyone else in there?"

"No. They just went down to the Great Hall."

"Er – why?"

"Haven't you seen it on the black board? The choir's having a concert."

"Oh – yeah – there was something – why aren't you there too?"

"It starts in half an hour. I can live with a seat at the door.", Ginny sighed and looked down. "Bloody hell!", she jumped at the sight. "What's – ", she looked from his messed face to Hermione's sad smirk.

"Dumbledore.", said Hermione.

"Dumbledore?", Ginny moaned. "What – ?"

"Yeah. He's just been a bit rough."

"Rough."

"Yes.", Hermione curled her lips, lightly shook her head and took a deep breath.

"Looks more like he rubbed an iron spiked handkerchief over his face, if you ask me."

"Nosy old man, you know? Stretched some borders a bit too far."

"He can do that?"

"Oh you'd be surprised.", Severus snarled lazily. "Very touching example, to say."

"Thanks. So, I don't reckon you will go to the concert? Either of you?"

"I have no interest in witnessing Filius' most recent crime.", now both girls raised their eyebrows.

"Actually, I don't either.", Ginny sighed, slouching her shoulders. "So, what are you two doing now?"

"Nothing.", Severus pushed himself up from the floor. " _You_ two will have to find a way to spend your time.", he looked at Ginny. "I have to make sure that a specific one of my House isn't abusing the situation to sneak around anywhere dangerous."

"If you mean Draco Malfoy, he isn't, Professor."

Even the Fat Lady shrieked at the awareness of her voice being there. Suddenly, like come from thin air, Luna Lovegood was stepping in sight from behind Hermione.

"He entered the hall with everyone else, Sir.", she said dreamily. "If he wants to get out again, he will have to groom a new talent. You see, since those things happened to Katie and Ron, I got a bit curious. After all, Harry suspects him to be behind those attacks. I was just trying to find out whether he accuses the wrong person. He tends to be like this, you know? So I kept an eye on Draco. Something really bothers him and he keeps disappearing in the Room of Requirement."

Everyone stared at her like she was some kind of very ugly thing, but she didn't care. It actually amused her to see them puzzled.

"Why aren't you down as well, Luna? The concert starts in some minutes!", Ginny moaned.

"Oh I've left the choir, you see. Some time ago already, to be honest."

"You – _what?_ ", it was Severus now who murmured.

"I liked singing in the choir a lot, Sir, but Professor Flitwick became rather unpleasant over the last weeks. Don't worry.", Luna interpreted his look right. "I don't think it was entirely your fault. He was always like this before a concert. Quite annoying actually.", she shrugged. "Takes away all the fun."

"What does she mean with `your fault´?", Hermione asked him.

"I had a little quarrel with him about his methods, that is all."

"You know his – _methods_? What kind of methods are we talking about here?"

"Filius is a perfectionist – and gets it all wrong with the choristers. He pushes them to extreme accomplishments, but they have to suffer a lot on their way.", Severus sighed. "How did you know where to find us?", he added to Luna. "Even I – "

"Oh it was just a bit of coincidence, Sir.", she smiled. "When Hermione didn't come, I thought she might be somewhere in the castle with you. So it was basically Ginny I was worried about. I didn't expect you to be up here as well. Have you planned anything, Ginny?"

"No – I – "

"Good. I would like to show you something."

"Er – yeah! Why not!", she understood that Luna had a particular motive. "See you, then.", she chuckled at Hermione. "Professor,", she added and he gave her a short nod as she walked; as the other two realised a short time later; in direction of the Astronomy Tower with Luna.

"I like her,", Severus sang, frowning tiredly, when they were out of sight.

"Me too.", Hermione chuckled limply and stepped closer.

He watched her taking his right fist. The locket was still in it. She gently opened his fingers, picked it up and hung it around his neck where she tucked it under his clothes. After bringing them in order, she rested her hands on his chest and slightly lifted for giving him a kiss. He wouldn't leave it at a single one though. Tenderly holding her face, he forced her into another and her arms glided over his shoulders as they found themselves unable to stop.

Some of the portraits around, including the Fat Lady, sighed, but they didn't care. They knew that none of them would ever mention it in front of a living being – or the ghosts of the castle. It was their duty to keep up the teachers' secrets. An unwritten law to defend the privileged ones, ancient already.

Both Luna and Ginny not being in the hall, was the best opportunity she could have been presented with. They made a perfect excuse and no one would expect someone like him listening to a choir anyway.

"What kind of book was it?", she broke their kissing after some minutes.

"Hmm?"

"The one you didn't want to read to him?"

"Er – what?", Severus lightly pushed her away, giving her an utterly confused look.

"Well, I felt the need to take a little vengeance. So I spent my time waiting for him with watching one of his memories. Maybe you can remember – summer seventy-two – he visited you and your mother.", Severus sighed.

"You nasty beast."

"I know.", Hermione giggled with a mischievous smile. "I know the book you read to him. So what was the one you put back before he gave you the Tales of Beedle the Bard?", she watched him thinking.

"You don't want to know.", he moaned when he remembered.

"Is it so bad?"

"Positive."

"Worse than ` _Snorkers in a Snicket_ ´?"

"Far worse.", Severus smirked.

~~#~~


	29. Chapter 28 - Holes

– Chapter 28 –

 **Holes**

"Incredible."

A marvellous Saturday morning sun glistened through the high windows, reflecting in hundreds of plates and goblets and moving cutlery and making the hair of friendly talking people shimmer brightly. The smell of all sorts of breakfast food and drinks was in the air, which was a haze of silvery gold. In all, a calm and absolutely beautiful scenery. But that was not what was so incredible to Ronald Weasley that he kept aspirating the word.

"Incredible."

"Fine, I got it!", Hermione snapped. "Well, I'm just human, am I not?"

"But that's – just incredible! Can you say it again?", he said dreamily, just when a tall dark figure glided towards them, a notebook and a quill in hand. "Please!"

"Give it a rest, Ronald.", Ginny sighed to her toast and took a bite.

"No. Please, Hermione. Please – repeat that."

"Alright!", Hermione barked at him, heads turning in their direction. " _That foul, obnoxious, loathsome mongrel!_ _I don't believe that he makes us write a twelve rolls essay on the Unforgivable Curses, over a single weekend! How should I possibly be able to finish that along with all the other homework!_ Are you happy now?", she hissed.

"Incredib-"

"Oh shut –"

"Is that so, Miss Granger?", a low, deep voice very close to her left ear said.

Hermione froze with gaping eyes. Everyone in their surrounding looked at the small group of Gryffindors that sat together, and their teacher, almost none of them having seen him approaching. He had placed the book and quill on the table and grabbed the wood's edge so he could easier bend down to her. As though a sudden cloud had appeared to block the sun, the air around them seemed to have lost all its shine and people all around held their breath, either with fear or interest of what might follow, or perhaps because they believed that the only comprehensible reason for a change to the air could be due to an actual poisonous cloud that had materialised out of nowhere.

"You feel incapable of finishing your homework?", Hermione swallowed. "You? Of all students? The – _quickest_ regarding such? Well, maybe I should give you a little incentive. You may – ", he picked the feather and held it up in front of her face, "Use this quill for your essay. In addition,", smirking nastily, he stuck it behind her left ear, "You will write a ten pages essay about how to treat a teacher, including appropriate use of language – or accept fifty points taken from Gryffindor for your nice little description. _It is on you._ Hand in the essay with the other, or watch fifty of those shiny red crystals out there fly back upwards. To make the task a little more challenging, you will write both essays with _exactly_ that quill; believe me as I say that I will know; and I want it back by the same lesson. If anyone else, especially Miss Stalker Patil, should touch it, you have written those papers in vain.", Parvati, who heard that, swallowed too. "Have you understood me, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir.", she gargled.

"Fine.", he sneered, seized his book and walked on.

"Now that's heavy,", Ron mumbled. "I can't recall you've ever fallen this deep."

Though in the very moment, he visibly regretted to have said that. The look Hermione gave him made even Harry shrink some inches. She threw her legs over the bench, jumped up and stomped after Severus.

"Professor?", she stopped him with a furious tone.

"Yes, Miss Granger?", he slowly turned.

"May I borrow your notebook for a moment?"

"The reason?"

"Educational purpose.", he frowned, but nevertheless held it towards her, a little stiff though.

As fierce as her look, she snatched the thin black book, stomped back to Ron where she climbed onto the bench and knelt on the table. Holding it in both hands; with a smack that finally made everyone else in the hall stare at her; she slammed the book so hard on his head that he, letting out a loud scream, fell against Harry, who ducked away in shock, but caught him in a reflex. Panting like a dragon that had just been poked into the tail, she gritted her teeth, climbed off the table, heaved her bag over her shoulder and strutted back towards Severus, whose lips stood ajar and eyes wide open. Blinking, he gazed down on the book that was held up to him.

"Thank you, Sir.", she grinned artificially and marched around him, out of the hall, the quill still behind her ear.

"Bloody hell!", Ron moaned, robbing his head and trying to sit straight again. "She's mental!"

"Sorry, but you actually deserved that, Ron.", Harry huffed and lightly pushed him up.

"And barbaric!"

With a faint chuckle, Severus noticed the dent Ron's head had left in the binding. Not loosing his frown, he finally walked out of the hall as well.

~~#~~

By the beginning of the next D.A.D.A. lesson, Ron and Hermione hadn't spoken a word yet. In fact, Ron had tried, though failed to get anything out of his mouth but pitiful squeaking. She had not only ignored those attempts, but effectively given everyone the impression that she was totally unaware of his existence. Whenever his name fell, she said things like `Who?´ or `I have no idea what you are talking about´. It had been almost impossible to discuss anything with her that was connected to Ron in only the thinnest string of a way. But most of the time she had spent on that lone table in the corner of the common room, writing, hissing at everyone who had wanted to talk to her – even Ginny.

So the lesson came, and once again, Harry was the one to play the dividing wall of security between the two. The usual horribly stale smell in the classroom that hadn't been aired since the last lesson of the previous day and the black curtains half hanging into the windows, intensified the cloud of gloom lingering over the bench the trio sat on.

Wordless, he rushed into the room, slamming the door shut, and gave all windows the opening wave of his hand, everyone was already prepared on. The students next to the windows sat far enough at the inside edges of their benches to not being swept away by the usual gust of wind hitting them. His cloak billowed as he took the last steps around the desk and came to halt behind it, his fingers crossed.

"Hand in your essays.", was his indifferent morning greeting, waiting for all students to carry their parchments to his table.

A broad, self-satisfied smile on her face, Hermione put down the biggest pile, a green shimmering black feather on top. He picked it up, examined it like he was searching for fingerprints that weren't his or hers and put it into the empty teapot, giving her a look that clearly told her to step aside for those waiting in line behind her.

"Now then,", he continued when they all were back at their seats, "In today's lesson you will finally learn to produce a Patronus; or so you should; as a little _relief_ to your last. All of you should know the basic theory by now and be, hopefully, able to recall it. It is on you to implement it, as good as you can. I expect hardly anyone to conjure a full corporeal Patronus, but this is not to stop you from trying as hard as possible. Given, that casting this spell is harmless to everything but Dementors or Lethifolds; or for distracting the stupid; you should be capable of working without my assistance. I in the meanwhile, will correct your papers. Get up so I can give you some space.", they did as ordered and their benches and bags slid to the walls. "And for Heaven's sake, try not to gouge out your classmates' eyes."

With that, he sat down, got out his reading specs and picked the first essay. Not used to see him like this, the entire class stared at him. Nobody but a handful of them knew that he needed glasses at all. He had hidden that fact very thoroughly so far. The students in the near tried to read the name on top of the randomly taken essay in which he had just crossed out a line. That caught his attention. Peering over his glasses, his eyes hit theirs with a cold rush.

"If you are expecting me to bring some Dementors in here so you can practice properly, you are waiting for the sun to explode. Except one teensy little poser among you, neither of you is even nearly close to fight off a single, tired one, and believe me, there is no such thing as a tired Dementor. So what are you waiting for?"

Torn from their trance, the students began to form rows, though with the difficulties they usually had. Some were pushing others, others were pushing back some.

"Now tell me,", he murmured above the quiet turmoil, not raising his eyes this time, "Which class is this, you are in? Act like the young adults you are supposed to be according to your birth certificates, or I degrade each and every single one of you down to first-years."

Finally they managed to have enough space for their practice. Neville looked anxious. He had already had problems in the DA meetings. Harry's encouraging wink was not much of a help for him. The first ones spoke the incantation, but their wands showed no reaction. None but a single one. A bluish white stag stormed through the room, making all of his classmates turn after it. Harry stopped it in front of the teacher's desk. It caused a heavy sigh, that all of them heard even in regard of the fascinated moans, though hardly anyone saw through the bright light.

"Very touching, Potter, but I have enough light for reading. If you are done with relishing in showcasing exactly the proof of what I just told everyone you are, you may turn off that streetlamp, sit down on the most uncomfortable bench you can find and write another essay, telling me your opinion on what influences a Patronus' shape and what can make it change, as well as listing special forms of Patroni, describing them in a similar manner. Try to be creative. I want you to put all your heart into those five pages I will find on my desk by the end of today's lessons. No-nos are any kinds of insults, as you might understand, and whines about your parents. I want your personal sight on the topic, but no love letter to the dead, understood?", a grunt of Harry and the Patronus was gone. "And no house-high letters either."

" _I told you_.", he hissed to Hermione under his breath.

"There was no need for you to throw it at him,", she noted as quiet. "Now do what he says, before he takes off some points, rather than asking for your _personal opinion_. Besides, you should really think about that particular fact."

"I am not deaf, you must know, Miss Granger. Nevertheless, five points to Gryffindor for putting it in a perfectly round nutshell."

"Damn!", Harry murmured.

"You see, it's easy.", she pouted and went back to concentration, not without a tiny smile at Severus, who returned it as hidden as could be.

The moment Harry angrily pulled his bag from under a bench and sat down on it, the class continued practising. Many minutes and seven checked essays later, some of them already managed to create – a little dusty light. Those who had been in the DA, apart from Neville who finally conjured a glowing stream, had all sat down similar to Harry, writing the same kind of text. Hermione's otter was the last in the row, much to her frustration. Her eagerness to discover a change in his expression had had negative effects on her concentration.

 _Now_ , she thought when getting out parchment, ink and quill. Patronuses. _Special forms_. A rather easy task, knowing of his Twin-Patronus. But something drew her attention.

He had cleared his throat and straightened a pile of a thickness that was very familiar to her. Hermione's lips curled. Not able to stop it, heat rose in her face and she knew that she was visibly flushed within seconds. Fortunately, nobody looked at her as she studied his face. He was apparently reading over the regular essay. So she decided to start the personal one on Patronuses.

Every now and then, she threw a glance up to his desk. The instant tension and chill running through her body when he put the essay to the corrected ones was; that much she could tell in her absentmindedness; the total opposite of all orgasms he had ever made her have. She knew that if her hair hadn't been naturally bushy today, it would have stood off in every direction now.

Swallowing, she gazed at his still bored look – which changed so rapidly that it shocked her. Although it were only his eyes, the fact that they stood wide open in the span of a split second, made her shrink, hating herself for what she had written. To her horror, Harry; sitting two benches ahead; must have noticed it as well. When he raised his head and recognisably looked at him, Hermione's heart sank to, what she believed, beyond her shoes and she already imagined herself picking it up somewhere in the Dungeons below the tower.

Severus blinked once. A pause, and he blinked three times, very fast. Until then, his left arm had rested on the desktop. Though now, he lifted it, placed his elbow on the wood and buried his mouth in the palm, more than obviously trying to hide any unintentional movement of his lips. To her relief, his eyes were back to normal, even if he didn't stop his frequent additional blinking behind his glasses.

Nevertheless his eyes spoke volumes. She could see him taking the one and other deep breath when he stiffened his shoulders or relaxed. He also swallowed heavily somewhere through page four. It was then that he shortly counted the remaining papers, for which reason ever – and cleared his throat again as he read on. Not enough, Harry's head turned to her with a questioning look. She pretended not to see it and did as though she had just needed a thinking pause before she continued _writing_. She would silently erase the ink later, when Harry had given up. Only, that this would not happen until hours after.

The door swung open noisily and everything in connection with Patronuses or essays was swept from the room faster than a frog could catch a fly. Shocked moans and gasps went through the class, petrified eyes on the man who stumbled in. The moment they recognised him, they were even more anxious.

Blood was trickling from his mouth and from cuts all over his upper body. Severus was on his feet and hurried towards him, catching him just in time to prevent him from collapsing. Cautiously reaching under his shoulder, he dragged Remus through the more and more parting mass of students, up to the chair he had left and turned it to face the window before he sat Remus down on it.

"Stay where you are!", he barked at Harry who had attempted to run towards them.

Remus was shaking and his breath was flat, tears of pain trickling through the bloodstains. Even more careful, Severus moved the wand he had drawn from his sleeve, down Remus' damaged jacket and shirt, tearing it in the middle as well as over the arms. Revealing blood everywhere, he freed him from the fabric. Naturally, there was no time for questions.

Those on the benches had gotten up to see past their classmates as their teacher started unbuttoning his robe and took it off. Two simple moves and his lavallière was in his hand. That too, he tore in the middle and bound each of Remus' wrists to the respective side-rest. He then rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, brushed his hands through his thick black hair and bound it with the rubber band he always wore around his right wrist.

Some students gasped again. It were those who hadn't known a certain fact and were now trying to get another glimpse on what was on his left forearm. But he didn't give them a chance. A mere flick of his wand and a piece from the seam of a curtain was torn off as well, rushing towards his hand. He pressed it into a moaning, protesting Remus' mouth. Another whip, and the door as well as the windows finally fell shut. He knelt down to Remus' right and rummaged for something in the pouch he had pulled from under his shirt. Those students who managed to move, stepped a little closer so they could see what it was: A roll of fabric, holding various kinds of tools that didn't look more pleasant than their former teacher's bleeding wounds.

Muffled by the cloth in his mouth into which he bit, a terrible scream escaped him and he pinched his eyes, his head rushing into his neck as he struggled against the bonds, fingers digging in wood. Severus had penetrated one of the cuts with thin silver tweezers.

"Try to hold still.", he said calm, examining the wound through the glasses he still wore.

"Wag.", was all Remus could press through the fabric before he screamed again, making students back away.

"Got it.", were the relieving words followed by a quieter cry and Severus pulled out something thin and sharp that was hardly recognisable due to the blood it was covered in.

"Did you jump through a window, or what?", Severus eyed the shard in the tweezers before he dropped it on the floor and went for the next cut.

"Na. De windou tru me."

"Ready?", Remus only nodded and swallowed before he screamed another time – and four more before the injured could get out something other than muffled cries and groans.

"Can'd ya fummon 'em oud?", Severus stared up at him.

"Are you sure, you want that? Some of them seem to sit very deep and it might – "

"Oh fuck ya.", Remus mumbled and Severus gave him am frustrated snort.

"This won't be beautiful."

"Ha, ha."

"I was talking to my students.", he got up, took his wand from the desk and waved it at the door, which opened again. "Anyone who knows that they won't be able to watch this, should leave now. I will not take responsibility for those who faint.", no one moved. "Fine,", he grunted, "Don't say then I didn't leave you a choice.", and the door was slammed shut. "Draco, Hermione, come over here and help me. You need to hold him."

Everyone was too taken aback to actually realise the oddness of the call. Not only because she was closer to the desk, Hermione reached it first. She had no idea how she had reacted so fast. What he told them then, was only whispering.

"Hermione, his shoulders are unscathed. Get behind the chair and hold them tight. Draco, you take his ankles. Make sure that you hold him as good as you can, when I count to three. Can you do that?"

Both nodded when they had taken in said positions; Draco though looked a little disgusted. A number of girls was already holding their hands on their mouths, somewhat prepared for the worst. Some had turned away, covering their ears.

"Ready?", he stepped a little to the left and waited for three nods. "One – ", Malfoy slightly rolled in between the legs he held, sitting on the floor. "Two – ", Hermione pressed her eyes and mouth shut like him, clutching into Remus' shoulders. "Three!"

Almost all of the students winced at the; though hushed; terrific scream of agony with which Remus was nearly driven over the edge. Dozens of small and tiny blood smeared shards of glass soared through the air, according to the move of Severus' wand and fell to the floor shortly before the desk level window, along with squirting stains of clear red blood that hit everything in the direction. Panting heavily, Remus collapsed into the chair.

"You can let go.", Severus addressed his two students calmly when he started moving his wand over the now even more bleeding wounds. "Did anything hit you, Draco?", the boy carefully brushed over his slightly bloodstained hair, but couldn't find anything alarming. "Hermione?", she just shook her head, her face distorted with worry.

While the wounds healed bit by bit, he took the wet piece of former black curtain from Remus' mouth. Relieved, that one moved his jaw to relax it a little, calming down with every hint of pain wearing off. The last thing Severus healed was the left arm Remus had used as a pathetic defence to shield his throat.

"And now, you tell me in every detail who did that and why.", the last cut was gone, leaving only the former scars that would never vanish, and Severus started to remove all the blood he could spot anywhere.

"Peeves.", Remus aspirated, still breathing heavily.

"Peeves?", Severus murmured, giving him a short look before he continued on Malfoy's hair and the floor.

"Yes. I just patrolled the second floor in the East Wing when he came around the corner. You know that he never liked me. Or rather, that he _hates_ me."

"You have given him all reason, if I may say that.", the curtain was whole again and some drops that had hit the desk were gone as well.

"I know. Well, I won't say, I don't deserve some punishment for all I did to him. But actually blasting a window at me, is far beyond licit. Albus won't be amused."

"Though he will not be able to throw him out."

"I know. He's bound to the castle, unfortunately.", the straps opened and became a completely intact lavallière again, landing gently in Severus' hand; he then finally freed himself from the blood that had hit him.

" _What?_ ", Harry hissed quietly to himself, but loud enough to catch his teacher's, Ron's and Hermione's attention.

Utterly confused green eyes stared past Hermione, straight into a pair of dark ones. For a moment, he met with a blank face. The hair had been exactly like that. The only difference, the short full beard, the earring as well as hat and jacket of the uniform the once Monday-postman had worn, were missing. Now that he thought about it, it had been Christmas before his _eleventh_ birthday – the day that would make him old enough to go to Hogwarts. Though a second later, the hair was down and the rubber band on the wrist as if that moment, just hadn't happened.

Hermione turned back to Severus, only to see him binding the lavallière around his collar, eyes on Remus, who had repaired his torn clothes with a flick of the wand he had managed to tuck into a back pocket of his trousers before he had entered the classroom. On his feet again and thereby building an unnoticed barrier in the way of Harry's view, he adjusted his repaired clothes as well.

"So, Patronuses?", Remus chuckled, doing the best he could to make his ragged clothes look good – only Severus saw the flick of jealousy at the clean black robe he buttoned up. "How many managed to create a corporeal one?"

"An extraordinary number of nine, or should I say, _eight_. Two are close, but struggling a little too much."

"Fantastic.", Remus beamed. "But Harry's Patronus _is_ extraordinary, if he manages to overcome momentary fears. You know that as much as I do.", the grunt when Severus threw on his long cloak couldn't have been more obvious. "Even if I can understand that the knowledge might not really please you.", a snicker escaped Hermione and he turned to her.

"Nothing.", she smiled broadly, pressing her lips together. "It's nothing.", she added mumbling, but the smile became a little panicking when she was presented with an extremely dark, warning look Remus didn't see. "Sorry.", Severus took a deep breath and rolled his eyes when he directed his look to the floor, startling at the sight, before he slouched his shoulders.

"Honestly.", he moaned at Malfoy, who still sat between him and Remus. "This floor isn't that comfortable."

"Sorry, Sir.", he mumbled hastily and got up, wiping dust off his clothes.

"Er – Severus – do you have something I can put those shards in?", Remus pointed on them, still on the floor as well. "Just in case, he thinks I am dead enough he can try to repair the window."

"Yes."

Severus walked around Malfoy and opened one of the desk's drawers. Meanwhile, Remus had spotted a word on a certain piece of parchment that gained his attention so effectively, he couldn't resist taking a closer look. Hermione swallowed in extreme panic, turning bright red. Even Malfoy noticed it, frowning at her and, to increase her despair, leaned a little to the right for a look on the text himself. Away from Hermione's eyes, Remus had already narrowed his brows in disbelief. The left however, sped up when a flat hand blocked his view. He kept the look when he raised his head, facing a leisurely leaning Severus who held a corked bottle under his nose, his expression as bored as his pose indicated the prohibition of Remus' gaze.

"For someone who has just escaped death, your are outrageously prying. Can you fill it yourself or do you want me to do it?", he murmured; Remus opened his mouth to say something, his eyes flicking between the covered parchment and Severus' face. "Yes?"

Remus only blinked some fast times, quickly took the glass which he opened and summoned the shards into. The essay, luckily bracketed together, was turned over. Unfortunately, there was text on the last page as well, but Severus simply shoved the piece in question between the corrected essays, giving Hermione another brief, killing glance.

" _For someone_ who has been teaching for about sixteen years, you are extremely unwise.", Remus countered whispering.

"For your information,", Severus replied quietly through his teeth, his face now very close to the other's as he had abandoned the pile, "I didn't expect anything like this to land on my desk."

"Of course not."

"That is the truth."

"Spare your breath. Unbelievable, to what you are degrading her."

"The reasons behind this essay are very complex, though a lone punishment. I was hoping for something professional, regarding a simple topic, not an insane lecture like _that_. It has never come to my mind that she would actually write _such_ a piece at all. I have _not_ ordered it."

"Sure.", Remus chuckled dull.

"I could present him with a different version of your story. Let us see, whom he would believe more."

"Does he really trust you that much? Well, maybe then this would stymie you: if you lie to him about Peeves, I will tell him about your spare time activities, plus, referring to that essay."

" _Just you try_. He knows about those spare time activities you mean."

"No."

"He does.", Severus hissed, a frightening glistening in his eyes. And it might interest you, that he hasn't got the slightest problem with it. Anything you tell him, will only result in your jealousy being bared."

"Jealousy. Tz.", Remus shook his head and walked around him and the desk. "You should hear yourself."

"You as well.", Severus gnarled after him. "As I already told you, the train is full. No matter what you try, you will _not_ get a seat on it."

"As if that matters to me.", he strode towards the door.

"Oh, it _does_ , Remus. It _does_. You are lying to yourself, if you try to deny it now."

"Well,", he stopped and turned around, "If you possess just a hint of the dignity I have, you would not discuss this topic anymore. There are students present and you said yourself, that you don't want me to talk about it in public. Why, yes,", he raised a finger, "I forgot, you don't have any dignity!"

"Listen to how pathetically desperate your childishness is trying to break free. He is _dead_. There is no need for you to let the remains of his attitude infest your brain."

"You dare to speak about him like – "

"He didn't dare to speak about me any different either, when he was still wandering around in this world. May I remind you, that it was _you_ who told me to ignore him?"

"That – is – "

"What is it?", Severus crossed his arms. "It is nothing but true. I am not at all sure about you, but _I_ have grown up. So, unless you want to be the hot topic of the Great Hall, I advise you to come to my office after lunch. Though don't expect me to take your preposterous accusations _seriously_.", he lazily frowned at the last word.

"Don't you – ", Remus spat.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to say?"

" _What!_ "

"Forgive me. I forgot that you are an ungrateful little puppy."

His expression became so cold, Remus couldn't find any words. Huffing, he spun on his heels and stomped for the door, which refused to open.

"Let me out.", he gritted his teeth.

"Climb down from your throne and be the man you want me to see in you.", Severus said calm, looking over his specs.

"I said, let me out!"

"Shall I repeat myself as well?", Remus took a deep breath and curled his lips.

"Thank you.", he murmured; only then the door opened for him.

Dropping no more words, he stormed out, right when the bell rang for the last period before lunch. With a sigh, Severus stuck his wand back into his sleeve, knelt down and picked up the tools that still laid on the floor. Having stored the tweezers and bound the thick black cloth together, he made a single pile of the essays on his desk. After that, he placed the bundle on top and heaved it all onto his arm. Not until then he took off his reading glasses, slipped them into his pocket and looked around, a little tired.

"There is no need to pretend you would still be able to practise the Patronus Charm. Therefore, try to make the best of your free period. I advise you to spend it with writing your essays. Yes, I would like such an essay from each of you on my desk by the beginning of our next lesson, no matter how grand or pathetic your Patronus looks like. Pack your things. You may leave the benches the way they are. And Miss Cheeky, I want you in my office at eight in the afternoon to discuss your extra homework.", Hermione swallowed and stared after him like everyone else when he left the classroom.

"Honestly, Hermione, what did you write into that essay?", Ron moaned when he was gone.

"Now don't act as if you cared for me.", she snapped, spun around and packed her things before anyone could wake from their paralysis.

"And how the heck did you manage to be the first one to _receive_ points from him?"

"Constant vigilance!", sung Hermione and left as well.

"Blimey! Harry? Er – Harry? Are you – okay?"

"What?", his friend startled from his thoughts.

"You look empty – like someone drilled a hole into your head – "

"Drills – ", Harry aspirated, blank.

"D- _what?_ "

"Nothing.", he mumbled hastily and went for his stuff too.

"Wicked."

~~#~~

"That steak is really delicious, Harry.", spiked on a fork, a piece of the meat was held in front of his nose in rotating moves.

"I said, I'm not hungry, Ron.", he growled and pushed his friend's hand aside.

"Then not.", Ron ate it himself. "What'sh it nouw?", he swallowed, "The P again? Or the H things?"

"Oh listen to yourself, Ron.", Ginny murmured. "The way you talk, it's a miracle that you haven't got stalkers yet as well."

"Stalkers? Oy wait – Parvati?", the girl turned to him.

"Are you actually stalking Snape?"

"I'm not!", she protested immediately, but couldn't hide the embarrassment. "Who told you that?"

"Well, Snape himself, if you remember. So?"

"I'm not stalking any-", Ginny's murderous look hit her, "One.", she finished her sentence with a gargle and cleared her throat to cover the fact.

"Alright.", Ron sighed and continued talking to Harry. "Whataya think, Hermione wrote into that essay?"

"No idea.", Harry grumbled, staring into distance, shortly meeting Malfoy's eyes without really wanting it and both pretended it hadn't happened.

"But it's curious, isn't it? I mean, where _is_ she?"

"Probably the library. Looking up special forms of Patronuses.", he considered. "I should go there too. I'm totally clueless on that matter.", he stood up, grabbed two slices of bread, placed a dry steak in between, wrapped it all in a napkin and left.

"Hmm. Yeah."

"So what exactly happened in that lesson?", Ginny leaned over to her brother.

~~#~~


	30. Chapter 29 - Honeycombed with a hint

– Chapter 29 –

 **Honeycombed with a hint of blood**

"What do you want.", he faced a tall, grim figure blocking the doorway.

"You said, I could discuss the matter with you after lunch."

"Well, I'm not done yet. Come back in fifteen minutes.", Severus simply shut the door again and walked back to the food on his table.

"I know what it looks like when you eat.", Remus had opened the door before it could be locked, entered and closed it behind. "No need to lock me out."

"There is a reason why I ordered my lunch to my office."

"Certainly. Cannot face any students after that lesson, can you?", Remus chuckled and pointed his wand at the lock, which clicked.

"What do you want.", he repeated when Remus had sat down in the chair on the other side of the dark desk, crossing his legs.

"Answers."

"I meant, for lunch.", Severus had picked a paper and a quill.

"Some candles and two glasses of red wine."

" _Lunch_ , not _dinner_ and you know that I don't drink.", murmured Severus.

"I never said that you will get the wine.", Remus smirked with a wink.

"Tossers will eat in the _Three Broomsticks_. Not that you mind either of those four, do you?"

"Don't be so mean, Snivelly.", chuckled Remus. "You know how I like my steak. And the wine still holds.", some Sickles on top and the sheet was gone. "Do you mind if I take off my shoes?"

"As long as your socks don't stink,", the other man sighed, cut one of the remaining grilled broccoli loafs and elegantly dipped the piece into herb sauce.

"I hope not!", Remus grinned and bent down the moment the lone rare steak and glass of well coloured wine appeared on his side of the desk. "Ah! That looks fine!", he was back up, cracking his knuckles in delight.

"If you say so,", Severus' expression couldn't have been more disgusted and he concentrated on his own plate. "Enjoy."

"Oh yes, I will, thank you. Especially after that morning."

"How has he taken it?"

"Not sho pleashed. Mmm! That _ish_ delishioush!"

"Save your breath.", snorted Severus. "`Not so pleased´?"

"'E wash upshet! Todally outrach'd! Never sheen 'im like shat.", he swallowed heavily, "Even Niggy fled."

"There is hardly anything that can _not_ make him freak out lately."

"Understandable. So? Can I read that essay?", Severus choked and coughed.

"No!", he moaned, as soon as he could speak again.

"Have _you_ read it all?"

"Unfortunately."

"Really? But that page I saw – ", the smile Remus gave him was all other than mature, "It was rather questionable, wasn't it?"

"There was nothing about that crap that wasn't questionable, to say."

"Crap, you call it? Now – she's got talent, you have to confess."

"I thought, you wouldn't drop it."

"Not at all, no.", nor did Remus lose his smile. "So? Did you – _like_ – it?"

" _Could you_ – ", Severus angrily put down his cutlery, hissing through his teeth, " _Please_ – _tell, your, toes_ – to play with _something else_?"

"Oh come on. You – ow!", Severus had clapped his legs together, which squeezed Remus' foot, but though of the furious look he earned, he couldn't resist laughing.

"This is _not_ funny, Remus!"

"Come on! You have to admit that you're just a man."

"But not the kind of man you wish to see."

"Then tell my why I – "

"Why you've been drooling after me since our school days? Yes, I would indeed like to know.", Remus blushed, his grin frozen and his foot still trapped. "Oh _come_ , _on_.", Severus scoffed.

"You – know?"

"Yes, as I told you. So? What was it?"

"You're beautiful,"

"Ha, ha, _ha_. Give me something I can believe you."

"You are."

"Shove it."

"No, really. And – I don't know – maybe it was the fact that you were in the choir – "

"Honestly?", Severus murmured.

"I don't know – but I _do_ have an idea what gave me the rest.", the colour of Remus' was close to that of his wine.

"And what?"

"I'm aware you meant it sarcastic, but it was actually – "

"Spit it out."

"When you called me `Moon Pup´.", there was a long pause.

"You – _what?_ ", Severus blinked, the other snickered. " _Remus!_ ", and his foot fell, after he had playfully moved his toes again.

"Sorry.", Remus wiped his moustache and both continued eating.

The crackling fire and the candles in the chandelier in the middle of the room cast them in a soft shine as they ate in silence. Severus was done earlier and ordered desert, only getting a gently refusing gesture from Remus when he gave him a questioning look. So soft pumpkin wedge after pumpkin wedge disappeared from the crystal bowl and the level of the sweet juice sank.

Remus cleaned his lips with his napkin and startled. Severus head leaned on his left hand, the dark eyes studying him in thoughts. Another wedge, slowly eaten. Surprised, Remus watched him raising and sitting down on the side of the desk, only the half empty glass of wine stood on now. Severus then took the bowl and spoon from behind and held it in front of Remus' chin. One last wedge in the bowl. It was lifted and placed in Remus' automatically opening mouth.

While he bit and swallowed it, Severus drank the rest of the juice and set the bowl and golden spoon back down on the desk. Completely stunned, Remus lightly startled at the warm hand on his left cheek, as a face came closer. The rest, he didn't see anymore. As soft and sweet as the pumpkin had been, a pair of lips met his. Dazed more by the touch than the wine, he returned the slow moves, the warmth of their breath flowing between them. A tender tongue found another. Hours seemed to pass. Hours in sickly sweet delirium. Then, Severus slowly let go, though his hand remained when he whispered.

"Remember this – Moon Pup.", Remus dreamy eyes stared into his. "Remember it to the end of your life, as it was the last time. I am your friend, but I can't give you anything more."

"You can't do that.", the man aspirated. "You can't do that to me. Twenty years, Severus!"

"Sixteen and a half; no day has passed on which I hadn't been wishing to see her again just once – to hold her another time – ", he tried to fight back his tears. "Don't tell me, Remus. There is just one thing I have been living for. One simple thing. And I would have never believed that she would be right. She promised me that I would find love again. So I did, strangely. Don't talk about sickness or desire, Remus. Don't talk about longing. It is far more complicated and sitting far deeper – and I cannot give you what you long for. I can't. I am not like you and you are nothing like me."

His hand moved to his left sleeve when he sat up and only a second after the black wand was drawn and waved up into the air, a blue glowing, silvery white doe and otter erupted from its tip, rushing through the small room, coming to halt behind Severus. The doe put her front legs onto the desk and cuddled against his left shoulder, the otter laid down on his lap. Remus only stared at the man above him and the uneven twins, close to tears himself.

"I am sorry, Remus. I am your _friend_ and that is _all_ I can give you. Not less, not more. You are always welcome in these rooms or my parents' house. Even in my bed, if you learn to accept. If there is anything I can do for you that doesn't go beyond the will of a good friend,", he slipped off the table; the otter gliding up to his right shoulder; and put the wand in his left hand, "I will do it. I will be there for you, but just in the way I can."

A right hand was offered to Remus and he limply took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. The otter lively jumped off and joined the doe on the desk when Severus gently wrapped his arms around Remus and held him close. Knocking. He let go and the Patronuses vanished before he made the lock click and the was door opened hesitantly. Framed by chin-length dark cherry hair, a broad grin peered in.

"Wotcher!", Tonks sang. "Kingsley just arrived earlier. So it's an hour until I have to be in the Ministry. Met Dumbledore in the yard. Told me you might be here.", she jumped in and her smile got stuck. "Remus – you're – "

"It's nothing.", Severus hand still on his left upper arm, he wiped off his tears. "I'm fine. Just had an exhausting morning."

"Looks like a little more!", with a few steps, she had reached them and placed her hand on his other arm. "What's going on, Sev?"

"Peeves attacked him with a window, _Nymphadora_.", Severus snarled.

"Uh – sorry. Forgot you don't like nicknames.", she smirked shortly, then looked between them. "A window? But – "

"He looked _absolutely delicious_ , I can tell you."

"You can drop it.", Remus huffed, lightly shaking his head. "I promise, I'll do my best."

"Well, you don't have any other choice."

"Huh?", her head still changed direction every few seconds.

"Alright, alright. Thank you."

"That took you quite a time."

"But I said it."

"Still."

"Can you two enlighten me?"

"No.", both men said at once.

"What?", Tonks chuckled. "Hey! It's not like I'm a complete stranger, am I? Or is this some guys' stuff I'm not supposed to know."

"Nicely phrased.", Severus gave her a bored smile.

"Okay. And the window?"

"All gone.", Remus got out the glass he still carried in the pocket of his jacket; not all of the shards were entirely cleaned.

" _That_ – was all – ", she marvelled at the shards. "Whow! Crazy! Now _that's_ why Dumbledore was so grumpy!"

"Possibly.", said Severus. "I'm back in a minute."

He finally stowed his wand away, went over to the shelf-door and opened it. Naturally nosy, the woman peeked after him as he disappeared in the dark and lit the lamp in the bathroom.

"I didn't know there was a room,", Tonks whispered. "You mind if I take a look?"

"I'm not the right person to ask."

"Sure. Just saying."

"And you don't want to go in there."

"Why not? Are there some disgusting, little, slimy things lurking in the corners?", she snickered again, moving her fingers up Remus' chest like spiders.

"No. It's just sacred to him. Leave him that little privacy."

"Nah. Come on.", she pulled at his hand but he remained standing as solid as a rock, pulling her back as if his arm was a rubber band, making her land in both.

"I said no.", he smiled kindly.

"Party pooper.", she grinned and kissed him. "Huh? What's that?"

"What is what?"

"That taste – is that – "

"Probably the stewed pumpkin he forced me to try."

"Did he? But there's something else – ", she kissed him a little deeper.

"Tonks!", he laughed, pulling back.

"Is that broccoli?", she chuckled.

"Alright, alright. I felt for something exotic and tried his lunch. That is why he forced me to have the full.", Remus lied.

"And? Did you like it?", Tonks beamed.

"Actually, yes.", he considered honestly. "Though I don't think, I can live off it."

"You bloody Werewolf.", she grinned broader than before and tousled his hair. "Never happy with something simple."

"Beef _is_ simple.", he nuzzled her.

"Sure.", whispered Tonks and closed her eyes.

* * *

"Can you imagine? All those stars up there?", Lily whispered. "And some people say, we are the only ones? I don't believe that. Do you?"

"Hones'ly?", he marked the position of _something_. "No. Tha'd be insane."

"Yeah. Imagine the lonelin- Sev! Won't you ever stop it? I mean, sure, after five years, Dameda should know what you mean with the `Doggy Mess´, but you shouldn't write that in your O.W.L. That's just immature."

"Personally, I'd rather sen' 'im ter 'ose stars."

"I know. Still, that won't look good."

"I dun' care wha' me Astronomy O.W.L. looks like. Ye know tha' I'm takin' it ou' o' fun."

"Did the phlegm just say `fun´?"

"God res' me soul. 'Ere it comes.", Severus mumbled, looking through his telescope.

"I know what would be fun. If you love that thing so much, you're using it out of fun, why don't you glue it to your eye? Oh wait – you can't do that magic, can you? Shall I do it for you?", a wand was pulled in darkness, but not unseen.

"James!", screamed Lily, drawing all attention on the four of them.

"Potter! Lupin!", their teacher called. "Your telescope is over here! _Will_ you go back to it!"

"Not before I finished my job here.", James gritted his teeth.

"Please. You don't want detention in Astronomy.", Remus begged.

"For that, it's worth the frustration."

"You should listen to what Moon Pup says.", Severus sneered languidly. "It might just _save your life_."

"Potter! _Now!_ "

"Come on.", Remus gargled, but firmly seized his right wrist and dragged him back over.

"You'll regret fiddling with her mind, Sneezy.", James growled quietly.

"He's not fiddling with anything, you brag!", Lily hissed after him.

"Leave 'im. 'E's no' worth yer anger."

"Say you."

"I'm no' angry. I'm totally calm."

"Ow!", now really everyone looked at James, who stumbled backwards and held his nose.

"Are you alright?", Sirius asked, who had been busy looking over to Lily and Severus. "What happened?"

"Damn!", James snorted at the sight of something dark and shiny in his hand.

"Professor,", Lily said aloud, "It looks like Potter just ran into his own telescope! He might be needing medical _care_!", various people around snickered under their breath.

"Is that so, Potter? Oh Christ! You really are bleeding heavily! Lupin, get him to the Hospital Wing. Quick."

"Yes, Professor.", and the two went off, not without a last hiss thrown after them by Lily.

"Vengeance is very sweet, Jimmy Fawn! Who's sneezing now, huh?"

"Mental bitch!", James could just mumble before Remus lightly pushed him downstairs.

"An' ye call _me_ immature.", sighed Severus.

"Call _me_ mean, Sev, but he deserved that so badly.", Lily whispered

"Still, confundin' non-verbally an' wandless – "

"You honestly don't defend him now, do you?"

"No. I'm jus' sayin', ye could 'ave 'it Remus."

"You know I'm too precise for that."

"All righ', ye win."

* * *

He sighed again, shortly looked into the mirror and bent down for spitting out the rest of toothpaste. Clear water washed his mouth, seeming colder than it actually was, due to the fresh taste of the spearmint. His left hand reached onto the shelf for the little box with the floss, only to – discover the remaining string to be too short for usage. Letting out a frustrated snort, he put the box back and pulled a single thick hair from somewhere a little up behind his left ear.

Done, the hair simply disappeared into thin air. He dried the sink with the appropriate towel, turned the light off with a snap and quietly walked back towards the lit office. The next sigh escaped him when he stopped in the doorway, finding a tenderly kissing couple in front of him. He couldn't hold back a tiny smile on the sight of Tonks' now waist-length brown hair. Smirking a little more, he put his hands behind his back and studied the floor. Even that he started seesawing, didn't draw their attention, nor another sigh, blinking at the chandelier. Severus curled his lips and coughed pointedly.

Remus gasped and his eyes were on him at once, his lips hanging half on Tonks' for some seconds, until she turned her head and her hair shrunk up to her shoulders, though not changing the colour. She sniffed.

"What is that?", her nose transformed to one of a dog and she sniffed even more, making it nearly impossible for Severus to keep a straight face. "Is that – spearmint?"

"Yes, it is spearmint. If you two excuse me now,", Severus mumbled, pointed to his chair and walked over childishly slow and awkward to get his cloak, "I need to find an old idiot and make sure he can't move an inch for a week."

"Old idiot?"

"Peeves."

"Oh – oh! That one!", Tonks giggled, her nose back to normal. "I thought, you meat Dumbledore. Yeah. Sure. But you can do that?"

"You'd be surprised."

"But no one ever managed to effectively hex him!"

"Severus did.", Remus noted. "In our second year already. Wasn't too pretty. I wouldn't have believed either that a Poltergeist can be so vulnerable. He secretly fears Severus since, though that doesn't stop him from playing tricks on him every now an then."

"He paid every time.", Severus smiled murderously as he put on the cloak, continuing calm though. "You know how to lock. Take a rest, Remus. Have a nice day, both of you.", with that, he was gone.

~~#~~

Curling lips and hazel eyes faced old wood. The very distant ringing of a deep bell. Eight o'clock. Four firm knocks on that certain wood in front of her. Her look remained the same when her hand sank into its former position. No footsteps to be heard. The door was thick enough for that. She wondered how noises could get in, but not out. Was it some kind of spell she had not figured out yet? A spell that was probably even hidden in the depths of Bullock's encyclopaedia? Waiting, not moving a thou. He had clearly said eight. She couldn't recall any time he had been late for appointments he had set himself. Something was wrong. Becoming a little worried, Hermione bit her lower lip. Her hand already reached for her wand when she heard voices from the spiral staircase.

"How many more times do I have to tell you that it is impossible to get rid of him, Argus?"

"But there is evidence!", Filch growled. "So much evidence, Professor!"

"As much as I share your determination regarding him, even Albus is helpless. Peeves is bound to the castle until he himself decides to move on. Not even an enormously fatal damage to the school would be effective if he refused to leave."

"How long does this curse last?"

"The last time I did it to him, he was petrified for a week. Though that was many years ago. Of course I have developed my skills, but so have his powers expanded. I cannot promise anything or predict his reactions when he breaks free.", they finally reached the corridor and the light of a lantern mixed into the blue. "If you excuse me now, a student is waiting to be punished and it upsets me a bit that it is you of all to have delayed me."

"Detention, eh? Then I don't want to keep you off your duty any longer, Sir. Who's it?", Filch had stopped shuffling and peered past his lantern, Mrs Norris skulking around his legs. "Oy! Granger! That's a sight!"

"Yes, that's a sight.", Severus snarled as he reached her and magically unlocked the door, which opened silently for her. " _Nighty night_ , Argus.", she could see him throwing a nasty smirk at the caretaker from inside, before he walked past her and the door locked itself like automatically. "Sit down."

Hermione swallowed. Nevertheless he lit the fireplace and chandelier before he rummaged for his pouch. A glass on the desk caught her interest. So she did as ordered and stared at it. Meanwhile, Severus had pulled out some sheets of parchment and placed them before his own chair on which he sat down. As he brought his clothes in order, he of course noticed what she looked at. A wave of his hand and the glass lifted, flew over to the fire, emptied itself into the flames and came back, landing gently on the desk, where it was gone immediately. Sitting rather straight, Severus crossed his arms on the narrow space between the essay and the edge of the desk. The breath he took however was stopped by an appearing note to his right. Frowning, both read the scrawl.

 _Mister has taken quite long for that sip._

Severus huffed, picked a quill, inked it and wrote beneath:

 _The Mister has forgotten it._

Three quick knocks on the desktop and the message vanished like the glass had. Seconds later, it came back with a fresh line.

 _Dobby thought so, Sir._

Severus wrote back again.

 _What a clever Elf you are, Dobby._

Dobby's answer came with a simple drawn smiling face that was answered by a finishing, similar drawing and returned wish:

 _The Sir's sarcasm doesn't hurt Dobby. Good night, Sir._

Sighing what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, he watched the sheet with his greet disappear once again and remain gone. Then he put back the quill, cleared his throat and finally started talking to Hermione.

"I will keep this as short as possible for you.", he said calm and serious; Hermione swallowed another time. "I am talking to you as your teacher now. So first of all, I confess myself totally innocent.", Hermione frowned again, though a little more concerned. "I have never in any way ever read something at all similar to this only once in my life.", she could hardly hold back a smirk at the fast spoken words. "Secondly, I actually expected you to hand in ten empty pages.", he went on a little slower; the girl eventually smirked, though rather embarrassed. "Now, having made my position in the world of this genre and the matter clear, I ask you; and I want you to answer me according to the truth; have you ever written anything alike before?"

"No.", Hermione gargled.

"Good.", he mumbled and bit his lip, his look shortly on the top page, pausing, before he continued with only his eyes on her. "Has anyone but the two of us, Remus and Draco read it or possibly gotten a glimpse on it?"

"No.", he nodded, closed his eyes and scratched his neck.

"Now then,", his hand was back at the other elbow and his look on her, "Congratulations.", Hermione's eyes popped out. "Having only read academical texts and a rather humble number of notes from you, I admit I find your style of writing very – ah – compelling.", he paused again, "I had no idea you knew such a variety of – _interesting_ words. Did you have any help?"

"No."

"Did you do some kind of research or study, specifically for this essay?"

"No, Sir."

"There is no need for calling me `Sir´, honestly.", he moaned.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise."

"So-", she swallowed heavily at the look he gave her.

"Here comes the complicated part.", he blinked fast for some seconds. "It was absolutely difficult for me to stop reading, though I felt a certain urge to burn it in front of the class. If it hadn't been for Remus crashing the party, this could have ended very bad. But what do I say, you know the sickening crap you wrote from page four on.", heavily flushed, Hermione still gazed into those black depths facing her. "Let me get to point three then. I don't like to be tied to _anything_.", she squinted her eyes shut. "Point four,", her eyes flicked open once more, "Apart from that, feel free now to go through every single line of that short story. You have the whole night."

The crackling of the fire echoed like thousands of marching soldiers in the following silence. Hermione's lips stood ajar in disbelief. A little more; she frowned an eventual time, blinked and a dazed sigh left her as her upper body toppled down, her head lightly slamming against the dark wood. Just hesitantly, she started giggling, which transformed into bright laughing when a hand softly brushed her hair.

"You bastard.", she chuckled. "I thought you'd kill me."

"Likewise.", Severus smiled warmly.

"Do I have to?", her chin rested on the desk now.

"I said, feel free."

"May I get up?"

"Of course.", she did.

"And walk around that desk?"

"Certainly."

"And sit down on your lap?", he leaned back in his chair, not losing the smile.

"Now you can.", slowly, she sat down and her fingers wandered through his hair.

"And – very slow – and soft – and tenderly – kiss my teacher?"

"I beg for it."

~~#~~

A soft warm breeze of mid May blew through his hair and cloak, making the pouch in his hand dangle by the strings he held it on. In the other, his matt black shoes, the socks stuck into them. The stone under his bare feet was still cold, but he craved the feeling. Gazing over the Black Lake, he stood on the rocks for some minutes, enjoying the view. The cliff at the walls, its edge only a few inches from his toes, went straight down into deep water.

Today he had time for things like standing there. Time for things he hadn't done in a while. A good side of Saturdays that had no detention written on his timetable. He had corrected the remaining essays handed in the afternoon before. It was a free weekend now. One of those rare two days in a row with nothing to do but dawdling away. One of those very rare days he had missed since January. Skipping breakfast for a specific reason was something he had longed for ever since this option had then been presented to him and the mushrooms at lunch had never tasted better.

Dropping a happy sigh, he stored his shoes and continued to undress, letting his neatly folded clothes sink down gently into the pouch. By the moment he put it around his neck, his ears caught a noise. Heavy panting and groaning. A suppressed squeal and muttered cursing. Then, a bush of brown hair appeared at the rocks to his left; finally a face with flashing red cheeks. She had the laces of her trainers knotted and hung the pair around her own neck so she could climb easier. A little amused, he nevertheless didn't walk over to assist her. He knew she could do it alone now. She had to.

"What are – you – doing up here?", Hermione huffed. "Naked!", she gasped.

"Do you mind?", he smirked.

"No but – you – you're not – planning to – go – ", she straightened herself, robbing her fingers, "Swimming?"

"Any more complaints?"

"No.", Hermione laughed.

"How is Ron?"

"Just the same.", she sighed. "Same reaction: no reaction. He still can't remember, but he at least notices that there is something to both you and me he doesn't understand. Anyway – why do you ask me about him when you're – on such a day – after such a night – ", her eyes drifted up and down his body.

"Because I care for you and therefore I want to know whether you are happy."

"What is she doing up there now?", Susan asked.

"Just talking, I think.", Parvati guessed.

"And he doesn't care?", her twin sister wanted to know.

"Obviously not."

"Can I?"

"Sure.", she handed the binoculars over to Padma.

"Oh my – ", she aspirated. "He's – completely – he actually is – "

"Let me see, let me see!", Susan demanded and tore the binoculars from the other girl's hands as she didn't obey immediately. "Caterwauling Flobberworm! He's – "

"Yeah.", the sisters giggled together.

"My goodness – ", Susan moaned dreamingly, "I don't give a damn what she does there – I – I just want to be her right now!"

"What are you three doing out here so close to the borders of the school grounds?"

McGonagall's upset voice shrunk them as she walked down the hill to the shore. Like hit by a jinx, Susan let the binoculars slip behind her back and all three of them jumped up from the grass, turning to her, totally embarrassed.

"Professor – ", Parvati aspirated.

"Oh don't ask me how I found you, Miss Patil. I saw you lot disappearing in the woods and could of course not allow myself to let you get away with this. What by all means are you thinking? Only because it is Saturday and the weather nice, it does not mean you can sneak around the grounds just as you please.", there was real concern in her words. "And what are you doing with those binoculars?"

"Enjoying the landscape.", Padma said quick, avoiding her eyes, more than guilty.

"As if. Who are you spying at?"

"No one!", the girls yelped.

"Don't take me for a fool.", she warned. "I heard you talking. Who is it?"

"Uhm – ", Susan started, "We – "

"Yes, Miss Bones?", Padma tried to turn her head and see whether he was still there, in hope not to be noticed. "Or Miss Patil? Who is there on the rocks?"

She quickly snatched the binoculars from Susan and searched the rocks along the walls in distance. They were still up there, talking. Completely flabbergasted, she adjusted the wheels so she could have a better view, fitting her visual acuity.

"Oh minced blaeberry pie – ", McGonagall breathed, making the girls' eyes gape with surprise. "I had no idea he – for cripes' sake – ", she lowered the tool, her free hand on her thinning lips to cover the girlish smile emerging. "This is not – ", she took another look, "He really is – my goodness, my goodness, my goodness! How can he hide such a body from the world – ", neither of the girls could help giggling. "Oh drop it.", she waved them off, still staring through the binoculars. "But can any of you tell me what Miss Granger is doing up there?"

"Talking to him.", sighed Parvati, jealousy written all over her face.

"Yes, yes, but why?"

"I really don't know, Professor."

"Oh my – "

She lowered the binoculars, her hand on her chest and marvelled at the rocks in the distance without the tool. The girls lined up at her side, staring equally stunned. He had spread his arms and jumped. In freefall, he sailed down like a crow in the wind. Fifteen feet – thirty – forty-five – sixty – seventy – he spun forward and dived in needle-like, his toes ahead.

Up on the rocks, Hermione just shook her head and looked for a sign of him. A little relieved, she saw his head reappear, splashing water when he threw his long hair into his neck.

"You're completely lunatic!", she cried down, hearing her voice echoing across the lake.

"I already did that when I was fourteen!", he shouted up to her, just as her, loud enough to be heard by those on the distant shore as well due to the direction of the breeze.

"You should be arrested for this insanity!", Hermione moaned, shook her head another time and went off, trying to somehow climb down where she had gotten up.

"Whatever!", when no answer would come, he dived in again and swam away.

"He really _is_ mad!", Susan aspirated. "How high is that, Professor?"

"High enough to not be imitated by anyone without the slightest experience.", the teacher lightly shook her head as well. "Unbelievable. And I thought, I knew – him – good gracious – he is – swimming in – our direction!", she attempted to move, but struggled a little. "Now tell me, is it wise?"

"Is what wise, Professor?", asked Padma.

"To just stand here and wait for him to reach us?"

"Er – "

"Or should we show a spark of decency and make the biggest mistake ever by leaving this spot?"

~~#~~

Heads turned in the Great Hall, eager to find out who disturbed their lunchtime peace. The upset voices drew nearer and seconds later, the arguing people approached the door, their hair and cloaks billowing with every of their angry steps.

"This does not make sense at all.", he snorted.

"It does very well.", Hermione pouted. "She put it in there so he would find it."

"Why should she have wanted him to find the envelope, Miss Granger. _Why._ "

"Because she knew he would figure out the combination."

"Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. She put it into the safe, because she wasn't sure anymore whether she actually wanted to die, but couldn't find the courage to destroy the letter either."

"But that is exactly what everyone is supposed to believe, Professor!", McGonagall had gotten up from her chair and walked around the staff table while everyone else was watching the two with open mouths.

"We are talking about a suicide note here. She wanted to die, Miss Granger. Mary was a very disturbed character, from the first page on and that was set clear after her scandal at the funeral.", he stopped midway through the hall, making her almost run into him as he turned and looked down on her, his lips pressed shut with revolt.

"She only freaked out – lost control – "

"Don't try to analyse a person who wants to end their life. You have never been in such a situation."

"Have you?", Hermione crossed her arms. "Sir?", there was a long pause before he went on in the same ferocious tone.

"If you love her so much, then go and marry Mary!", he hissed.

"I'm not in love with her!", the girl protested. "She's just – terribly misunderstood!"

"She's a mass murderer on purpose! What could there be misunderstood?"

"Oh – a lot, actually.", Hermione sang, causing another short silence.

"Besides, it is only a book, Miss Granger! And what are _you_ grinning at?", McGonagall had just passed them with a broad smile.

"Nothing, Severus."

"Pardon?", he stormed around Hermione and held his colleague back on her arm, turning her around. " _I beg your pardon?_ ", he murmured, distorting his face to a disbelieving grimace when he looked straight into her eyes.

"I didn't say anything.", a slight pink hue flashed onto the woman's cheeks.

He let go, spun around and stormed to the Gryffindor table. Everybody stared at him when he held out his right arm straight across the table and towards Parvati.

"Your binoculars, Miss Patil, if you would.", he snarled and the girl's eyes widened with horror. "Now.", threatened to death by his expression, she crammed for it in her bag and gave it to him, her hand shaking. "This is the last time you have been spying on someone. Twenty points from Gryffindor, as well as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and until the three of you grow up, you will not see this precious little thing ever again, Miss Patil.", with that, he stomped off and past Hermione, completely forgetting that he actually wanted to have lunch.

"Severus!", McGonagall moaned. "You cannot do this! This is not – ", he spun again and brandished with the binoculars.

"You don't tell me what I can do and what not, Minerva."

"Give me that. I am her Head of House. I should keep it.", now it was her who held out an arm.

"So you can hand it back to her? Dream on. I am not stupid. If there was; as that Miss Granger here longs for so much; a Teachers' Cup, I would take points off you as well for that blatantly childish act of yours.", he rushed around once again. "Get yourself a man, honestly.", he added when storming out of the hall.

"Professor?", Hermione raised an eyebrow when he was gone.

"Yes, Miss Granger?", the teacher turned to her, heavily flushed.

"What, was, this, about.", she said in a very Severus-like manner.

"I have no idea.", McGonagall said quickly.

"I know that Parvati is an intrusive dangler,"

"Hey!", came it from a certain spot at the Gryffindor table.

"But that a factual woman like you could lower herself to the level of a stalker, would have never come to my weirdest dreams, _Madam_."

"He has a really bad influence on you, Miss Granger. He does alter your sanity in a very questionable – "

"Well, it might surprise you, but I don't give a damn on what you believe he does to me!", she raged and strutted straight back towards the big doors.

"Didn't you want to have lunch, Miss Granger?"

" _I_ know how to get into the kitchen and I am friends with a Houseelf!", Hermione snapped and disappeared to the Dungeons.

"Blimey!", Ron aspirated staring out into the Entrance Hall. "She's really gone mad now, has she?"

"You might have a right point on this, Mr Weasley.", McGonagall moaned.

~~#~~


	31. Chapter 30 - Flourishing hills and other

– Chapter 30 –

 **Flourishing hills and other sprouts**

"But you could add – "

"No, I can'. Tha'd lif' tha effec' o' tha Fluxweed."

"True – but after the third stir – "

Incredibly fast knocking tore him from his memory and a single second lasting panic made his heart leap when he noticed the black stains the dripping quill had caused on Susan Bones' essay. More knocks, even hastier, followed when he put the quill back with a snort, gave the fresh stains a cleaning wave of his hand and went for the door, only to find a man standing in front of him he preferred to know miles away. But he was standing there, right there, inches from him, in the middle of the night; and after having overcome initial anger, he saw the embarrassed despair that was written across his former teacher's face.

"I hope I didn't – ", he puled, "Oh – you're still in your robes, thank goodness.", Severus' brows narrowed on the quite unusual tone, but he waited for him to get to the point. "Alright, well, I'll make it short. I – I have a serious problem.", did he just blush?

"Which is?", the light from inside his office was blocked by his own silhouette and the blue flames from the corridor gave the other man a kind of very unfitting halo, but he was clearly getting pink.

"A – ", Slughorn quickly turned his head up and down the corridor to check whether they were alone, and just as though he feared the walls to hear, he lowered his voice to whispering volume. "Let me say, it is rather intimate.", his eyes gave a lower region of his body a short flick and Severus' didn't need a much longer glimpse to tell him what was going on, in spite of the big belly. "I am really ashamed to admit; and that is why I beg you for secrecy; but I am clueless how to get rid of that."

"I thought, you were born with two hands?", snorted Severus, believing his ears less than his eyes at the current moment.

"I tried!", Slughorn hissed panicking.

"Incredible that you can still get it up at your age – "

"That isn't funny!"

"I haven't noticed that I laughed.", it wasn't really hard for him to throw his annoyance into Slughorn's frustration, but indeed difficult to swallow down a grin. "But what I was meaning to say is that as much as it actually doesn't surprise me to see that, guessing a comprehensible imagination that might have caused it, it does bother me to find you such a wreck, incapable of getting your perverse mind to calm down."

"That is _not_ funny!", Slughorn threw a hissing tantrum. "I think it got stuck!"

"And your wicked brain suddenly suggested I might be the right person to turn you – "

"Severus! Stop playing the idiot you never were!", pleaded Slughorn, which impressed Severus as gravely as the problem appeared to be. "Without you, I'm screwed!"

"Certainly, I prefer knowing you are without me."

" _Severus!_ ", that one found it fascinating how anyone could possibly rage so intensely with such a lack of sound. "I – I thought – er – maybe – you know something – a tonic I haven't come across – or any herb – "

"I highly advise Ricin or a considerable quantity of Foxglove.", he had no idea why, but the moment simply felt right to pay back for a good number of certain things.

"I said, this is serious!", Slughorn moaned.

"And I possess a pair of functioning ears and a no less working brain, rather like you, as it seems."

"So, will you get your working brain to assist me in my plight?"

"If you can do similar for me, should I ask for a favour,"

"Yes, yes!", Slughorn brandished him off, visibly glad that he hadn't gotten kicked back up to the Entrance Hall.

"Follow me."

"To where?"

"I will not mix it on the sixth-years' homework."

"Right, yes."

Some more flicks of his hand and the office was left behind in darkness, the door locked, and Slughorn trotted after him in direction of the Potions classroom. Actually he had planned to finish the corrections and go to bed before two in the morning for once in three weeks, but since the concoction would keep him off that for at least an hour, he had to reconcile with the fact that he was facing another night of less than four hours sleep. But as bad things could only get worse, Slughorn nearly crashed into him when the differently glowing line under the door halted him at an instant. Who by all means abused the classroom at midnight? That being the final straw, he crashed the door open regardless of the consequences, which were a very unexpected high squeal and breaking glass.

By the moment he had gotten aware of whom they had disturbed, his mind and insides were already embroiled in the biggest battle in a long time. It took each of the three almost as long to realise what kind of situation they were entangled in. Severus saw the teenager swallow as if he had taken a gulp of the liquid that was spilled all over his trainers, which he was understandably unaware of.

"Harry?", Slughorn aspirated from behind Severus' and he felt him trying to see the boy properly, but Severus had no intentions to move only an inch, even if he had been able to. "What are you doing here at – what were you actually doing in here?", the older men's eyes were studying various assembled glasses and jars on a table.

"I – er – ", the youngster stammered, his look drifting down in shock to see the mess he had made.

"As eager as your mother, aren't you? Sneaking out at night to try your hands on ingredients?"

"Did she?", Harry's eyes popped out and he decided to ignore the chaos at his feet.

"I must say, dear Severus here – "

"Could you – ", that one moaned when a finger was poking his shoulder.

"Oh sorry – what was I – oh yes – he encouraged it, you know? Interesting results, I have to admit."

"Indeed.", chuckled Harry, getting a hint he shouldn't have discovered. " _You_ encouraged my mother to break rules, Sir? But aren't we to _not_ sneak out at night?"

"You are insanely sarcastic, given that you are momentarily breaking rules yourself, in addition to the school's property."

"Which wasn't entirely my fault, I hope you know, Sir.", what he knew was that the look Harry gave him was exactly the same he had just presented him with, but whether the boy was aware of that, he felt like better not making him figure out, now that he seemed to be composed enough to show a certain degree of manners next to his anger about having been caught in an act that was very much off his preferences of how to spend a night at Hogwarts.

"To return to the original topic,", Severus asked as ignorant as he could, "What were you meaning to achieve here?"

"That's private.", Harry said brief.

"This is a classroom, in case I need to remind you where you stand in, apart from that wonderfully sticky liquid."

"Thanks, Professor.", snorted Harry at him, as grim.

"And believe it or not, nothing you do in a classroom can be private, no matter at which day- or nighttime. Someone will usually get to know."

"I guess, teachers always know such bits of unwritten laws then, not?"

"And exceptionally cheeky, like your father."

"Oh Severus.", Slughorn moaned. "Couldn't you for once leave him? It is not his fault that you and James didn't get al– "

"I haven't picked on any fact. I have merely voiced some. So, to repeat my _colleague's_ question again, what was that waste of money originally meant to turn out to become?"

"Something I highly doubt that would work on you, Sir. It's not that your skin suffers from anything else than a lack of sunlight, now does it?"

"I cannot see your skin suffer either,", he still refused to step further into the classroom, for the mere pleasure to let Slughorn dance behind him in the attempt to get a better view on Harry.

"Well, not anymore, thanks to Hermione. But whatever that was she gave me there, I don't think it really worked on those damn pimples in my face. It rather made them move downstairs and spread everywhere else.", Harry remained as cold.

"That sounds like a serious disease as well!", Slughorn sang.

"As well?"

"That sounds like none other than the biggest enemy of any kind of human skin, Horace. It carries the illustrious name ` _puberty_ ´. But yours lies so far in the past, I can hardly expect you to still remember it. Regardless of your current _teensy_ pr– "

"It might surprise you, but I had acne in my youth. Of course I found a solution."

"I doubt you had acne, yes."

"I had loads of these horrible pimples in my face. I am glad, I didn't keep scars!"

"And you are of course ashamed to admit your inability to find a tonic against them. No, I don't need to break into your mind to acknowledge that. I just need to put one and one together to figure your lack of guts that forced you to sit it out."

"Everywhere else, you say m'boy?", Slughorn tried hard to distract from his own past.

"He is not _your_ boy.", Severus couldn't stop the mumbling before it slipped past his lips, but fortunately wasn't heard by either of them.

"Yes, everywhere.", grunted Harry. "Some, if not plenty, in every area my body has decided to grow hair. Even where I already had hair before."

"Naturally."

"Naturally?", Harry's eyes switched from past Severus' head to his indifferent face.

"Quite. And your friend _Miss Granger_ , I assume she has told you how to use – "

"She has. But it seems, she either gave me the wrong stuff, or the pimples got afraid and, well, moved along."

"Neither. You should try to eat less sugar."

"Er – "

"Sugar makes them worse, as much as foregoing the one or other wash."

"I – _what?_ ", it troubled him to see his son realise who was just giving him such an advice, but, against what he had believed, there was no way it could get any worse.

"Wash yourself at least once a day and cut the sweets out off your diet as much as possible. Otherwise you will never get that stuff to work properly. Isn't that what she told you?"

"You know – "

"I am not stupid. Of course I know what Miss Granger applied to her skin and how it is to be treated. It is completely harmless and works very well, if you use it adequately. I am certain, if you follow her instructions, you will get rid of your problem quicker than you manage to get yourself in detention and we both know how virtuous you are."

"Great!", Harry huffed, in more than obvious trouble himself because Hermione's advice miraculously was in accord with what the teacher he despised most had suggested him to do.

"If it better helps you overcoming your teenage horror, you may take your friend's word as a reference, should you find it difficult to follow what I just told you. Neither of us wants your pathetic accomplishments in class to suffer from acne as well, not?"

"At least everyone _I_ taught managed to conjure a Patronus, of which shape ever, Sir. If I could repay with an advice on my part, students are better capable of performing a spell if they know their teacher to be able to do it as well – and if they're not afraid of him. Talking alone doesn't really convince them, and much less give them enough belief in their own skills."

" _Talking about belief_ , I believe it was yourself who was humble enough to send your classmates away, should they have come to only marvel at your performances?"

"No idea who told you – "

"It was _you_. Your miserable – "

"I got it, Sir, okay? I got it! I know I'm horrible at Occlumency!"

"Most literally, you suck at it.", Severus couldn't avoid a sigh.

"Fine. Now that we've settled that, am I allowed to clean up and go to bed?"

"No, and almost.", he gave the liquid a similar wave as he had the ink on the essay and it was gone completely while the bottle flew back to the table behind Harry and repaired itself, then looking as if it had never been used. "As I – ah – detected, that Professor Slughorn's problem must have vaporised or similar, I see no need for any of us to stay here much longer."

"Has it? Indeed! Merlin's beard, yes! Ingenious, Severus! If I had known that I only needed to not think of it any longer – "

"It is ingenious that you needed my help to figure that out. If you excuse me now, as you know, students aren't allowed out of bed, especially these days, and there is one who hasn't found the way to his yet. Come."

"I could do that – "

"Oh no, you go to bed as well.", he turned to him, hissing under his breath and through his teeth when Harry had set his legs in motion. "Mark my words, Horace. One single finger. Dare to even think of touching him – I swear, I will string you up with your own intestine and you'll indeed get laid on my desk, _as a scrap parchment made from your skin_. Now get out of my way."

Glad that the words had hit the right spot, he strutted past the other man with his son on his heels, who didn't drop a single word until they reached the Grand Tower. It had actually felt wonderful to just walk side by side with him; Harry had levelled up in the Entrance Hall; but hearing him speak somewhat normal to him was like fireworks of flowers.

"He could really have accompanied me, Sir."

"No, he couldn't."

"Why not?"

"If there is one thing I would never let Horace Slughorn do, it is leaving a lone student to him. Of course you have proven to be able to defend yourself,"

"Thanks – ", Harry panted as they climbed further upstairs, past portraits that weren't as vast asleep as they had appeared to be.

"But it is not worth the risk."

"Risk?"

"Don't get me wrong and feel honoured now, I wouldn't let him alone with any underage student."

"Why not?", Harry repeated.

"I have already said too much and fuelling your expectations would only result in breaking a promise I spoke some time ago. A promise of secrecy, if he should learn to bridle himself at last. Don't make me – "

"Sorry, no. I won't. It's none of my business."

"Exactly. As long as you avoid him in private, you have nothing to be worried about."

"If you mean that strange glistening in his eyes when he looks at a student he has hopes in, I've noticed that, Sir. It's a bit frightening in times, but as almost all of his favourite students are still alive, I don't think I need to fear he'd eat me."

"Depends on the point of view, but yes. Still you should avoid him _in times_."

"Nothing as simple. He's been the one to avoid me lately."

"Good. Still you should be careful whom you trust."

"Right advice from the right person.", Harry chuckled dark. "Just because you don't like him, Sir, it doesn't mean he's the grandest bugger in the world. So he did provide Voldemort information on Horcruxes. And? I don't think he'd known what that Tom Riddle would become. No one had."

"That is true. But you should learn to not say his name. It will get you in considerable trouble one day."

"I'm not afraid."

"I am not talking about fear, but gumption. There is a reason why people don't say the name, and it is not fear. Not only."

"What do you care if I _get myself blown up_ , Sir? Oh right – you're working for us now."

"If I may correct my words, your sarcasm isn't nearly as entertaining as your father's. It might comfort you to see this all as a kind of game, and it probably even is only a game, but in this game people die. A single word; and if it is speaking a name out loud; can decide on life."

"Sure. He doesn't allow Death Eaters to say that name either."

"Just as that. And some rules should be taken into account.", they had reached the Fat Lady, who was actually sleeping and came to halt in front of one another. "Yes, they should. I know well that you have difficulties accepting such; don't still try to deny. Breaking rules can be unforgivable, and that is always on the one who breaks them. Oh, I am sorry, but I was under the impression you had learned that lesson somewhen last school year. It is different if you stand up, shout out your opinion and get crushed, or obey silently, infest the system like a virus and crush _it_ when it is most vulnerable."

Harry said nothing on it. He just stared up at him for a long while, quite blank but clearly beaten by the truth and the silence of the tower was throbbing in Severus' ears as though someone frequently hit each with a big rubber hammer.

"Good – good night, Sir – ", the boy croaked the most horrible destruction of the quiet pain.

"Good night.", understanding that he had to get away as well before something might happen he would regret later, he turned on the spot and set one foot back downstairs.

"Sir?", Harry nevertheless stopped him before it touched the lower stone.

"Yes?", he half looked back at him.

"Er – just say, if one pretended to be someone else, by the use of Polyjuice Potion – wouldn't they have to be a great Occlumens as well?"

"Yes."

"So, Barty Crouch was great at it, wasn't he?"

"I have to admit, he was exceptional."

"So he could shield his mind, and on – an open – layer – provided information about – "

"Not nearly as complicated as that. He was confident enough to believe that no one would ever dare to check whether he was an impostor. However, he did not expect someone who wasn't distracted by the whole fuss around the tournament."

"So _you_ did – "

"Yes, I knew he was not whom he pretended to be, yet his shields were strong enough I could not break them. And that is, without sounding arrogant, actually saying something."

"Er – second – you couldn't break his defences but knew? That – "

"His eyes.", Harry's widened. "Or shall I say, the one eye. At times his concern about his covers being blown up drifted through. But Dumbledore was blind. He trusted his `old friend´ more than me as to listen when told him what I discovered. He believed, that I was still sympathised enough with Igor, that I despised Alastor and wanted to get rid of him, which of course is only half the truth. Alastor Moody, and I have to confess myself guilty, was ever an idol for me.", he wasn't sure whether it shouldn't bother him that Harry straightened with increasing interest. "But yes, you are indeed right. A skilled person can hide their identity and leave false information in the open for others to pick without their notice that it is nicely provided especially for them. That is, which I meant to tell you all througho– "

"Well,", Harry chuckled limply, "Seems I finally got it then, right? But doesn't it mean then, that each and everyone who is powerful enough, could pretend to be anyone they wanted as long as they managed to get a hair or piece of nail from that person?"

"Believe me, for someone who mastered mind control to such an extent, obtaining another person's hair is easier than opening a window that is only leaned shut right before their nose. There is not a single who has only one talent. Unfortunately many people fail to see it and therefore are too fixated on their supposedly only skill, which drives them into insanity once they should fail at that one day."

"Ever consider plan B."

"Consider plan B, C and D, up to Z. And if you have not enough hands to hold all those strings of the puppets, you need to find someone trustworthy who can hold some for you. You might not believe me when I tell you that I can comprehend your doubt when it comes to certain important things. I myself have experienced enough disappointment as to understand that some things are better done alone, without anyone's knowledge. But you have to differ your skills from your needs."

"Yeah. No one's got only one talent, but no one's got all of them either."

"Know your friends and foes better than yourself and chose. If you are supposed to flip two switches at once but they are set too far apart for your hands to reach both, it is usually not _such_ a bad idea to have the one or other who can play your mirror perfectly well, or the addendum, if necessary."

"But regarding Occlumency – and that it is really possible to layer one's memories and thoughts and emotions – if there are already such possibilities only in that considered untouchably part of the world,"

"Only fools consider anything untouchable,"

"Right."

"But you are getting the knack. As complicated as the universe may seem, as entangled is it. If you manage to understand; and I mean not only accept, but understand, imagine and, most of all, believe; that everything is solely made of energy, arranged in the most wondrous and varied ways, you can do nearly everything."

"So – I have to believe – "

"Yes, if you truly believe, if your belief is strong enough, the world around you is a sandpit and you own the water to sculpt it. And you need to take care of your sculptures."

"Yes. One day the sun will come and dry it for the wind to carry it away. But also one day I won't be there anymore to constantly devote to it,"

"Then pray for someone to be strong enough to continue your work. Nothing is eternal. No one ever does the best things with their time, but it is no crime to use it according to your own wisdom. Everything happens for a reason. Manage to see that and you can grow."

"Though, if I take myself the right to do everything – shouldn't I grant everyone the same right? _Everyone?_ "

"Well, that's the fly in the ointment, isn't it?", visibly drifting off into his thoughts, Harry nodded and he decided to leave him with them.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for letting me – er – for helping me outwit the system – "

"I have no idea what you mean."

He hoped that Harry would forever remember the scarce smile he gave him, but on the other hand prayed for him to not have caught it. Unwilling to break into his son's mind to satisfy some possibly perverted need of his own, he turned once more and went downstairs before Harry could drop another single word.

~~#~~

All throughout the lesson, he had been skipping pages on his lap, while his right hand had written. And that regardless of the reason he had been sent to the bench quite early. Again he had shown a fair amount of arrogance and he was lucky he hadn't gotten himself in detention for his behaviour again. But somehow, she had the feeling that he had an ulterior motive. Probably he had meant to escape the practice just for being able to study that madness. But that wasn't the only curiosity she recorded: he hadn't been at breakfast and when she had gone back up to brush her teeth, she had noticed that the sorting in her vanity bag had slightly changed.

Knowing that the boys weren't allowed in the dormitories, she knew she had to bring them to Severus later for testing everything. Just in case Lavender had laid hands on her stuff. But, she suspected someone else behind it, and whoever he had hired to do whatever with her vanity bag, for some reason the result now looked like Harry wore makeup.

"Miss Granger,", the murmur brought her mind back to her own head, which zoomed at Severus, who corrected the homework. "I cannot recall to have allowed anyone to daydream."

"Sorry."

"If you are tired of casting spells, you may join Mr Potter. And I assure you, I will know if you copied down the essay he is currently not writing."

"I am!", Harry protested. "And why should Hermione copy anything I'd written!"

"Oh of course you are writing an essay;", Severus sighed. "However, the subject differs much from which you should be dealing with."

"Believe me, Professor, I'd prefer having to deal with something else as well. This here, is a matter of life and death. And how can you read that anyway?"

"It is not necessary for me to read your crappy handwriting I have been forced to face for more than five years, in order to know what troubles you. Give me an excuse to add another five points to that list, which you will be costing Gryffindor, if you should not immediately dedicate to the right topic.", Harry only grunted and pulled an empty parchment from his bag. "You are still standing, Miss Granger."

Huffing at him, Hermione went for her bag. She dropped it on the desk, sat down so hard on the bench that the desk slightly tilted and Harry had to grasp his ink bottle. Surprised, she stared at his hand, knowing that if she had been in his place, she would have spilt more than if she had let it fall. But not a single drop had left it.

"Goddamned Seeker,", she moaned quietly.

"There wouldn't have been any need for that,", Harry hissed under his breath, "If _you_ knew to behave."

"I know well to behave,", Hermione still stared at the reddish dots on the back of Harry's left hand that he finally retrieved.

"I believe you,", Harry sighed and inked his quill.

"But it was you who's incurred himself an essay."

"That's rich, given the fact that you share that fate with me,"

"Are you two married?", that made their heads jerk up. "No? Then stop quarrelling and _write!_ "

"Yes, Sir.", they mumbled mutually, as though they were back in their first year and Hermione got out her things before sitting the bag as careless on the floor.

"What's wrong with your hand?", whispered Hermione.

"What should be wrong with my hand?", Harry frowned to his already ten lines of the actual essay.

"There's – "

"Nothing wrong with my hand."

"Don't be silly, I'm not blind.", she took it, but didn't get to examine it.

"Proposing him doesn _not_ give you the right to continue your verbal battle, Miss Granger."

In addition, Harry tore it from her fingers and laid the arm on the table before his chest, rather than stretched out, so she wouldn't easily get to see his hand again. But she did see that he indeed wore makeup.

"Really, my face isn't that fascinating.", he hissed again, not taking his eyes off his writing, which he continued while he spoke. "So unless you want to be the one to cost us these points, do as he says."

"Sorry, but I think I'm going mad! Are _you_ giving me the advice to listen to him? We've switched bodies now?"

"Quite."

"Miss Granger, that is the last warning."

"Sorry, Professor."

"Keep in mind though, that your essay should be twice as long now. And if I should find any _questionable_ content, I can guarantee that your education at Hogwarts has come to an early end."

"Sir!"

"Some people may deem it useful to protest, yet since I can spot no beaten Houseelf around, I see no use for any outbursts of yours."

"Pardon me, Professor,", Harry murmured, "But you could have saved loads of both our precious time by the use of two simple words."

"Which words!", moaned Hermione, her eyes travelling between the two pairs of such that had locked. "What – ", but her attempt drowned in their simultaneous grunt.

"Shut up!"

Extreme heat in her face upon it as well as the very carefully subdued giggles from the class and unwilling to further lock horns with either, she dedicated to the beginning of the four-rolls-madness, ignoring that Harry had switched his sheets insanely quick and reopened the book on his lap. She could have sworn to have seen Severus' eyes flick at him again, but no comment followed and so she decided to give it a rest as well. The bell rang far too soon anyway so as she could even finish half a page.

"Oh man,", with a sigh as heavy as his lids from all the homework that had taken him exceptionally long and therefore cost many hours of sleep, Ron joined them at their bench while Hermione was packing. "I think I'll never get to do that nonverbal,"

"Because you don't concentrate enough, Ronald.", she pouted and slipped in her securely closed ink bottle.

"But that's the point! How am I supposed to concentrate when – ", he threw a glance over his shoulder to gladly spot that Lavender left the classroom that moment, " _She's_ glaring at me?"

"She's just a girl, Ron.", Harry huffed, but what more confused Hermione was, that he wouldn't stop writing.

"Do I have to remind you that it's been a girl who managed to beat everyone – in the meetings – last year?", Hermione muttered.

"Oh yes – right – nearly killed one of us; your sister, Ron, if you forgot."

"That's not – "

"And I forgave her.", noted Hermione and lowered her voice even more, since Severus was still correcting work only feet away. "What are you still writing for?"

"Since it is _my_ fingers that are getting stained and irritated by writing eagerly on _my_ parchment, I suppose, I am writing for _myself_."

"Harry – "

"It's none of your business, is it?"

"We're your friends, mate; wouldn't hurt us telling what you're up to. Been a bit strange, lately. I mean – stranger than usual – "

"Yes.", she agreed, switching her look from one to the other.

"You think we won't be concerned if you do some extra work?"

"And _I_ think, there are plenty of other places in this castle, where you can carry on your discussions.", like Harry, he didn't take his eyes from the papers below. "Don't you have another class to attend to?"

"That's right, Harry.", Hermione gave his things a flick of her wand under his protesting moan and expression, but all of it landed securely in his bag and she pointed the wand at his right hand to free it from the black ink.

"Well, thanks, Hermione! But I can pack and clean my hands on my own!"

"Come on, now!", she hissed. "Both of you!", and she seized Ron's wrist to drag him out of the room.

"Ow! Let go, Mum!"

"Sorry."

She dropped his hand, but Harry wouldn't come. Confused, she stopped at the door with Ron and turned back. He now stood between the benches. His bag still laid where Hermione had packed it. Also Severus now frowned across his spectacles, then blinked at Harry, which she could only just see from her position by the open door.

"Yes?", he said very slow, though Harry didn't answer. "Anything – you would like to tell me?", as slow, he took off the glasses and put them down on his desk.

"Harry?"

"See you in a minute.", Harry said monotonously, straight ahead, facing their teacher.

"Harry – "

"I said – "

"We're not going anywhere without you,", meant Ron.

"That's right. Whatever you've got to say to him, we should spare you the trouble of telling us later, don't you think?"

"Fine,", he murmured and lifted his hands.

"What are you doing?", moaned Severus as he undid his tie which he let sink onto the desk to his own left. "What by all means – ", Harry already dedicated to the buttons of his shirt and it slipped off along with his cloak; unable to help it, Severus' hand rose to cover his mouth, not being the only.

"Oh my goodness – ", Hermione breathed into her hands when Harry opened his belt and trousers and they went to the floor equally, coming to halt at his ankles in a heap.

"What in the name of God did you do?"

"Well,", Harry huffed with a brief look down on his own body that was cluttered with inflamed pustules, "Thanks for the makeup, Hermione. Though I won't tell you who I asked to copy it."

"Copy it?", she shrieked, ignoring Ron's miserable stare.

"And also thanks for refusing to give me more of your – _wonder tonic_. I've already seen Madam Pomfrey, and she has no clue what is happening to me. We tried Bubotuber Pus, but it just got worse. And since I refused to go to St Mungo's, she suggested I'd consult you, Professor.", Severus' hand fell. "Well?"

"Did – did you copy that too, or what?", he aspirated with an expression Hermione had never seen him show openly. "I hope, you at least removed the surface of your copy of your friend's makeup pot?"

"Yes. I'm not stupid."

"Obviously you are! Did you copy the tonic?", Harry said nothing at first, but he didn't need to. " _Did you?_ Mo creach – "

"As I said, Hermione refused to provide me with more and I didn't need another encounter as the one that nearly ruined my shoes."

"So it just came to your mind that the Gemino Curse – "

"It did work, didn't it? Only that the acne as well has doubled in intensity and even pain. So? Any solution, Sir?", Severus just placed his elbows on the desktop and ran all of his fingers through his slightly greasing hair, which made it stand as weird as Harry's, regardless of the length."

"I – ", he pondered, gazing at the windows then, "I have something – that – er – it is actually – quite simple – it – it _might_ work – "

"I'm all ears,", Harry said, putting his hands on his hips – with caution though, and Ron blinked heavily when their teacher unbuttoned the collar of his own robe and shirt and reached down to pull out his tiny velvet pouch, which he enlarged with a gesture of his hand, opened it and summoned a couple of glasses, flicking his fingers only. "What's that?"

"Want me to test your knowledge?", he picked one of the floating glasses filled with dried plants and Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to recognise it from the distance.

"Shepherd's Purse?", Hermione and Ron exchanged an amazed but at the same time confused look.

"Correct.", Severus put it down and took another. "And this?"

"That's Woodruff."

"Yes. This?"

"Er – second – Hypericum Perforatum – Hypericum Perforatum – what's it – ", Ron's eyes popped out.

"Harry!", Hermione gasped.

"What?", he turned his head.

"You – you – "

"I know I'm still as good as naked. So shut up and let me figure this myself."

"I am perfectly satisfied with its Latin name, thank you. Amber was the word you tried to find."

"Er – but it's yellow – ", Harry's face was back on him.

"There is also yellow and green, and even red amber, so, it does not matter which idiot named this plant `Amber´. What is this?", Severus took the last filled glass.

"Raspberry leaves. Clearly."

"Wonderful. I'd say, twenty points to Gryffindor.", Severus could hardly hold back a smirk.

"Ha!", Harry cheered and turned his head another time, to grin at Hermione now.

"Bloody hell!", Ron moaned.

"At least you've finally understood what I've been trying to tell you.", sighed Hermione, lightly shaking her head.

"Now, give me a minute.", Severus sighed as well and began weighing amounts of each plant into an empty big jar, solely on his hand.

"Er – "

"I believe, you can re-enact that I indeed had some experience,"

"Quite, yes.", Harry chuckled.

"If it isn't too painful for you, you may dress again.", the grimace Ron gave Hermione upon that, momentarily made her so upset that she had to yell at herself in her mind in oder to prevent slapping him while Harry put back on his clothes. "Now,", Severus let the herbs crumple with a snap of his fingers, stoppered the jar and shook it to mix its content.

"Yes?", Harry already bound his tie, a bit lazy however.

"Take two tea spoons, place them on a scraped paper or filtering paper over a glass or cup, pour hot water on it and let it sit for – approximately ten minutes, then drink it. Do that three times a day, until this jar is empty."

"That helps?"

"It should at least reduce that stuff. In addition, before you go to sleep, you could mix honey and fresh curd and apply it on the affected areas. Dobby; or even Kreacher, if you present him your issue; should be pleased to serve you with what you need and help you applying it. In case there is any refusal, you are allowed to tell either that the order actually came from my side. Or, if you prefer, I recall you have a friend standing by that door over there."

"For how long should I – "

"Fifteen to twenty minutes should be enough. Remove it carefully with clean hands and take a warm shower. And yes, Miss Granger,", his eyes lingered on her for some moments, "He will not only have to boss around his or a free Houseelf, he will also have to throw away the mix after the application. I know, a terrible waste of expensive food, but as long as it is the dear ratepayers to finance the meals at Hogwarts and you don't belong to them, it should not be your concern. And you,", he spoke to Harry again, raising to give him the jar, "Do good to change your nightwear at least every fourth day."

"Alright." Harry nodded and shoved it into his school bag. "Thank you."

"Any time. I may appear like a mongrel, and I haven't been as naïve as to multiply my stock magically,"

"If it helps, I think I'd be forever grateful.", he grabbed his bag and turned to go.

"Just don't think your gratitude might change anything between us.", Severus sighed what was necessary to say.

"Sure. I'll tell him when I see him, Sir."

"You'd be well advised to do that, yes."

"Come on, that'd delayed us long enough.", Harry huffed when they left the classroom. "Everyone's used to me or Ron coming late, but it reflects badly on you, Hermione."

"I think, I can make up an excuse for us all.", she muttered. "When have you begun to study plants?"

"When my body began to allow acne access. I figured Neville's not as dimwitted as everyone thinks. As you see, plants might be able to do much more than just grow in favour of home embellishment. And who knows, perhaps Slughorn's been right! I might have inherited some talent – "

"So that's what you've been trying all lesson with that book? Finding a solution for your acne?"

"Yep,"

"Seems you failed then,"

"Oh I wasn't through with reading between the lines yet. Not nearly."

"Unbelievable.", Hermione shook her head.

"What's more unbelievable is that Snape actually helped him and awarded him with a comparatively galactic number of points,"

"That's not so unbelievable; I think he fears I might spread that he'd had horrible acne as well – or that Slughorn had begged him to find a cure for a stuck boner – "

"Harry!", Hermione stopped in place.

"Blimey – ", Ron chuckled.

"Yes! You – you just _did_ spread that,"

"Glad to see you're shocked by the fact that I did that, rather than the content of the information."

"That's – that's not – "

"It's only you two, okay? I trust you to shut up on it."

~~#~~


	32. Chapter 31 - The Early Bird

– Chapter 31 –

 **The Early Bird**

"This is so much like the two of you, you know?", Hermione bellowed. "Still thinking I would be jealous of that hypocrite? This isn't about being good at Potions anymore, you baboons! It is Dark Magic and as long as we don't have any proof where that hag got it from, I tell you they invented it! And that means, they were as much a saint as Voldemort himself!"

"Hang on, yes?", Ron murmured, glad that they were all alone in the common room.

"It's like you knew who that Prince is?", Ginny blinked, finally looking at her again.

"Of course not.", Hermione calmed down a little. "I still have no clue. But as much as this spell saved Harry, as bad is it. Malfoy trying to jinx him with an Unforgivable Curse is cruel, yes, but the spell Harry used should become the fourth, if you ask me. I've looked it up. Nothing. It's nowhere.", in fact she had spent several hours looking at the page in Bullocks encyclopaedia it should be on, but there wasn't a single hint, nor in any dark books in the Restricted Section. "It means it is not only an unauthorised spell, it never got noticed by anyone. Fortunately. But that also makes it more obvious that your so-called prince invented it, clearly knowing the effect because otherwise the book wouldn't have said it's for enemies. And that, can only be the work of someone who is capable of harming fatally, if not even killing. If you excuse me, I need to go to the library. There are still some things I haven't had time to check.", having said her last word, she stormed out, leaving the three of them linger in their depression.

~~#~~

Harry was lucky that he had only incurred detention with Severus. Even she would have thought, McGonagall would have expelled him for that. But not having known the effect of the spell he had read `by chance´ beforehand and yelling it in a life-threatening situation, was the only reason he had been spared. The only positive event was that, due to his detention, Harry missed the game against Ravenclaw. His mood may have made them all fail. This way, Gryffindor won, and not enough, finally he had managed to kiss Ginny, who had found enough courage to listen to her and Luna at last, some days earlier.

The news of the new dream-couple was like the birth of a new sun on the horizon of rumours and storytelling in Hogwarts. Still it wouldn't fully reach Hermione. While Harry had at last calmed down on the whole prince-thing, she spent more and more time in the Restricted Section of the library. That, unfortunately, brought a lot more stress to her free time. It was now homework, preparation on exams, library and – Severus. Though, much less of him than she needed and wondered whether it had anything to do with Burbage. Because, it appeared more obvious as well that this woman had a talent for snatching him away before Hermione could reach him in their free hours. It could of course be coincidence, but in Hermione's eyes it looked more like she was jealous or something. Or perhaps –

Eyes getting tired, she was flipping pages. Nothing about that Sectumsempra-madness. Evil magic, evil creatures, evil objects, people who turned evil. People who invented spells. People who invented evil spells. But nowhere the slightest hint. She didn't even come across the word `prince´, just as if it didn't exist in the wizarding world at all. `Principle´ was the closest she could find, but of course, the least possible help. She didn't notice him coming from behind at all.

Her shriek was muffled by his hand, gently pressed on her mouth. The soft kiss on her left cheek however, was a big relief.

"What are you doing here again, my precious?", he whispered seductively.

"Research."

"Can't you let it for once?", Severus moaned and let go. "Ah I understand – until you know exactly how to create a Horcrux, you will not dare to rest. You see, I don't think you will ever find anything about them in here. There is no book left here about them. None of them has been sighted in years."

"And you tell me now?", Hermione grunted, leaning back.

"I thought it would be obvious to you that you will not find a thing about such Dark Magic in a school library. Nowhere."

"So you'd advise me to go to Hogsmeade, Apparate to Knockturn Alley and just ask some of those foul bastards hanging around there whether they know a shop that sells books about Horcruxes?", she snorted. "And – that spell Harry attacked Malfoy with – do you know something about it?"

"Other than that it obviously works like a sword-blade?"

"Yes. I've tried to find out something about it too. But it's even worse than with the Horcruxes. It's like that spell doesn't exist at all! But it must, since that Half-Blood Prince has copied it down into the book – which you apparently know."

"Well, Harry's mind _is_ an `open book´ for me,"

"Yes. But the spell isn't in the book you gave me for Christmas. So not even Bullock knew it. It has never been registered by the Ministry or anyone else. I really start to believe it's been that so-called prince who invented it. Or have you ever heard about it? After all you dealt with the Dark side since you've been in school – "

"I have never heard anyone saying that incantation.", he went around her, pushed away some of the books on the table and sat down on it in front of her.

"Then I'm as wise as before. Harry's hidden the book in the Room of Requirement. Um – you won't sneak on him to Slughorn, will you?"

"Harry is my son, if you remember, and Horace is one of the last I would turn him in to. Draco tried to put the Cruciatus Curse on him and Harry defended himself. It was a reaction of panic."

"I know. That's what convinced McGonagall to keep him at Hogwarts."

"Actually it has been me who convinced her.", finally Hermione looked up.

"Oh.", thinking, she bit her lips. "Do you have any more people in detention tonight?"

"Do I sense a need for distraction?", he smiled softly.

"You can really read minds. I – just thought it would be a shame if Dumbledore died before we could ask him to go and buy some refill for our little box.", he laughed vividly, Hermione feared someone could hear him.

"If not Lord Voldemort, surely you will be my death one day.", he smirked, fondling her right cheek.

"Then throw me into your bed and stopper death already.", Hermione grumbled, making him laugh even more heart-warmingly. "Sorry.", she squinted, realising what she had just said.

"And a far more delightful person to be murdered by."

~~#~~

Still dripping bundles laid glued to his shoulders, forming wet curtains to his head. His arms were crossed in front of his stomach, so were his legs below the white towel bound around his hips. It could have been cold anger, but also concern that stood in his grim face, lighted by the chandelier above. Leaning against the front of his desk, he stared at Lucius' son who stood in mid room, having failed at more attempts to defend himself verbally. As good as the boy was at Occlumency, only a blind wouldn't have seen his fear and just a deaf wouldn't have heard the tremor in his voice while he had spoken about the matter. It hurt him to see the teenager like this and he therefore decided to change the topic. Staid again, he continued.

"Why are you actually here?", Draco took a comparatively deep breath to have his short say.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Your present. I received it.", Severus nodded on it.

"I wanted to give it to you personally, but you were constantly out of reach."

"Sorry, Sir."

"You should – ", four knocks on the door, Draco spun around. "'Is can' be fer real – ", Severus mumbled to himself and snapped his fingers twice to unlock and open the door. " _What?_ "

"Er – ", was the greet they received.

Draco's eyes stood wide open, fearing that he was blushing. Harry's eyebrows were narrowed behind his glasses and Severus' expression was back to infuriaton.

"Since when are you knocking like this?", he huffed.

"Like what?", Harry murmured. "Sir?", he added in last second.

"And you are too soon."

"Obviously.", the music coming from a gramophone in a corner and the sight of his almost naked teacher cost him a smirk and he thought it better to check his watch for avoiding some grand drama. "No, it's – ", a bell rang in the distance, "Seven o'clock.", he noted, in a sing-song tone.

"I said eight."

"No, Sir, seven."

"You said seven, Professor.", Draco moaned. "Is it already that late? Damn."

"I didn't say – did I really – "

"Yes.", his students said at once and he scratched his momentarily tickling neck with his left hand, the right arm still in the same position.

"All right, all right.", his eyes closed with annoyance behind his bent fingers to his brows. "Get in, Potter.", he raised and turned around, holding to his desk.

Both of them gazed at his back, pulling a very similar face of askew narrowed eyebrows that transformed into frowning as their lips slowly drifted apart. He could see them mirror in the underwater window behind his desk.

"Are you done with it?", he turned back to them with a moan and their mouths snapped shut. "Fine. You may leave, Draco. It is not _your_ detention."

"Why did you antedate it, Professor? What's happening this Saturday morning?"

"This is _my_ business, isn't it? Now get out and do something a little more wise with the rest of that day."

"I'm not taking orders on what to do on my birthday, Sir.", the Slytherin mumbled and turned to go.

"It's you birthday, Malfoy?", Harry chuckled. " _All the best_ then."

"Save your breath, Potter.", he grunted and slammed the door shut, leaving their ears humming from the noise for some seconds.

"Now then, Potter, just a little side note, I hate the smell of Filch's office. Therefore I brought the cards here today. The usual time for you. Sit down and start working."

He let go of the table and turned his back on Harry once more, making the latter wonder again. Nevertheless the boy shrugged it off and walked towards the chair in front of the desk. Though shortly before it, one of his feet got stuck and the edge of the desk suddenly came closer so fast, he didn't even have time to fully reach out for it. However, his head shortly stopped before the wood as something firm caught him around the chest: a hand on his left shoulder and another arm was wrapped around his stomach. Panting heavily, he stared at the dark wooden edge in front of his nose.

Just when he became aware of the warmth to his upper body, he was lifted back to his feet by the strong arms. Turning immediately, he found his eyes in height of little, though evenly spread thick black hair on a slightly muscular fair chest. A tiny black and purple sack as well as a small silver locket and two rings on a silver chain rested on it. He hadn't paid attention to the objects first, but in the short moment before that deep, soft voice made his eyes rush up, he had enough time to study them with all interest. As if to purposely stretch the tension of the situation, the song was over and none came after.

"And you are supposed to be the only one able to stop the Dark Lord.", unable to straighten himself, Harry swallowed at the whisper and the dark eyes piercing into his before they wandered down, Harry's look following him as he knelt to his feet. "You cannot even – ", a little fierce, he began lacing the boy's left shoe, "Prevent yourself – ", an additional knot in the bow, "From being killed – ", the same on the other side, "By your own shoelaces."

Another snort and he stood straight again, adjusting his towel. When Harry swallowed the second time and could finally manage to straighten as well, Severus forced himself to look away into space. He could bear a lot, but the look Harry gave him was too much. He had to resist. The urge was strong, but he just couldn't. Having held him for those seconds had to be enough – especially since he was nearly naked. He _just_ couldn't. Even worse –

"What's in that locket, Sir?", his son aspirated, trying to ignore some smell of apricot his nose clearly perceived.

"Get out.", a whispered rejection of prudence.

"Sir?"

"I said, get out."

"And – the cards?", Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No need."

"Sorry?"

"Are you deaf?", even Harry was surprised by how calm he spoke and the emptiness in his gaze.

"But – detention?"

"No detention today."

"Er – "

"Are you masochistic enough that you're not even able to take a good chance when it is offered to you?", that made Harry step back a bit.

"But I – "

"What.", he was still facing the floor beside his desk.

"I'm not supposed to be out now, Sir, remember? Or what do you think I should tell the Aurors?", a frustrated sigh, eyes rolled and he turned his head further away.

"You really _are_ still a child.", Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off. "And I believe you were told to carry your cloak with you all the time."

"Well, if you can remember, it was you who told me that one of them – "

"Please spare me that and sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down, don't touch anything – apart from the cards, if your really fell in love with that work so much. I'll be back in five minutes.", he gave the gramophone a flick of his hand and the needle sank back to the beginning of the record.

Harry's brows had already disappeared in the hair over his forehead, but he nevertheless obeyed, watching his teacher approaching a shelf. He couldn't see what he did, though suddenly the shelf moved and he was gone behind, leaving it just as open as Harry couldn't see inside, as well as him alone with a song he fairly knew from somewhere.

~~#~~

It struggled. Chirruping heavily, the bird fought against his grip. But he didn't care. It wasn't the first bird he had brought to the room without notice. The cage was almost empty, yet he hadn't heard anyone complain. Nobody missed the birds. Fixated on the task, he marched down the corridor. _All the best, then_. Tz. That tosser and his empty words. He didn't need such people. Not at all.

"You're holding it wrongly."

The soft, dreamy voice from his right hit him so hard that he tripped forward before he could turn to see who had stopped him. Even in the sparse light, she shone like the moon. Her pale skin, the long fair hair and the yellow clothes she wore, were totally out of place. Blinking a little, he just stared at the girl approaching him from behind a statue. Had she been spying on him? The question was answered by her immediately by holding up a pair of trainers by their laces.

"Someone stole my shoes again.", she sighed over the bird's cry and put them into the wide, soft blue crocheted bag on her shoulder. "Let me help you.", a smile as absent as her look when she reached out for his hand. "Here.", she loosened his grip a little and brought his hand up to his heart – the bird calmed down. "You see? That's better, isn't it?"

"Er – yes!", he was simply taken aback by the whole situation.

"Be careful tonight. Peeves is a little outraged."

"You know, I'm a Prefect."

"Oh yes. Even though your badge is upside down."

"Wha- ?", he checked and turned it with a snort. "But you know that I can take points off your House or even give you detention for sneaking out?"

"Oh I know.", Luna still smiled. "But you won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You're not a bad person, you see? I just know you won't. And – ", she reached into her bag and pulled a little colourful something which she held under his nose. "Happy Birthday."

Completely thrown off the track, he marvelled at the pentagonal parcel for some seconds. Nevertheless he took it, holding it in same height as she had. Her smile a little bigger now, she spun on her heels and hopped away, down the corridor and out of sight.

~~#~~

Exactly five minutes later; Harry had checked his watch about three times a minute; he closed the shelf-door, completely dressed in usual black trousers, matte black shoes, a high buttoned black robe and a floor-length black cloak thrown over. His now dry hair was as bushy as Harry had never seen it before and the ends of the black waves stood in every possible direction. Unable to help it, Harry slipped a grunt.

"I cannot remember having told you a joke,"

"Sorry, Sir.", Harry tried hard to swallow down his laughing, but the grin on his tightly shut lips gave him away anyway. "Is – is that John Lennon?", he mumbled, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, probably to distract himself, and he saw the annoyed frown fall off with a snort and some obviously embarrassed blinking.

"Yes.", was the constricted answer he got himself. "Why?"

"Well, I knew that first song, but what's that one called?"

""Crippled Inside.", Harry snickered.

"A bit lively for such a title, isn't it?"

"In case you haven't heard of irony before, I might take some time to explain this mystery to you."

"Yeah. Really ironic."

Harry chuckled after the first lines of the next song. The silence that fell between them then, had nothing pleasuring. He just stood there by the shelf staring off at the dark window to the lake, and Harry on the floor, both unsure about where exactly to look at while Lennon sang and whistled along the chiming piano. Severus caught his own lips drifting apart when Harry's fingers suddenly began to move. He probably didn't even notice, and it wasn't all completely right, but they moved on his thighs, just as if he knew the song by heart, but didn't bother to follow its tune. In addition, the boy's lips curled, his stare at the stone tiles.

The needle snapped up again and with it, Harry's head jerked. Severus went for the small table. Harry watched him taking the record off and carefully put it into its cover as well as the shelf behind. When he walked back around the desk, the front shelf closed itself, trapping the gramophone inside behind more books. That moment, a hand firmly closed the box with cards on the table. Their eyes lingered on one another's for some seconds, though his expression was as hollow as earlier.

"How is your acne doing?"

"Er – ", Harry was momentarily so struck, that he couldn't answer immediately. "It's – fading – thanks! I – I mean – probably you see it – I don't need makeup anymore."

"I can see that."

"And the rest's healing too. You should tell Madam Pomfrey about it,"

"She is neither a Potioneer, nor a Herbologist. I still wonder how she passed her exams for being a Healer. Madam Pomfrey, you see, has a wide knowledge of Potions in her head. But she dares not to brew them herself, and concerning the use of herbs, she likely entrusts Professor Sprout with the task.", Harry frowned and blinked at once. "Oh pardon me, if you believed she was almighty."

"Actually,"

"That is what she tries to make everyone believe, yes. She is very full of herself. No doubt she is skilled, and of course she boasts about it in a way everyone takes it as humbleness, but in fact, when it comes to methods she has never laid hand on herself or seen proof of their efficiency; and if it is merely old domestic remedy; Poppy becomes a cowardly whimpering puppy."

"Good to know,", Harry smirked.

"I trust you not to tell anyone what I just said to you,"

"Of course. I'm as silent as a grave."

The reaction on that common phrase though unexpectedly shocked him a little. Within a split second, the hint of anger slipped off the pallid face and those dark eyes became more hollow than he had ever seen them, while the lips drifted ajar. Needing some seconds, his teacher's lungs sought in a lot of air which left him less dramatic, but trembling, and the lids blinked several times, gently somehow, yet with a hint of sadness. A sadness that began to crawl onto Harry's face as well, but before he could feel it show, the man straightened and meant to go for the office door. Harry stopped him.

"What you said to me – after Sirius death – about wishing someone dead thoughtlessly – ", torn between two urges, Severus halted at about the side edge of the desk. "Do – do you believe that?", for some moments he just pondered what he should actually do, but eventually decided for his own chair behind the desk, on which he sat down.

"I have – ", he began quietly, but fleetingly cleared his throat and went on more composed. "I have evidence, I'm afraid."

"Many – many people – did – "

"Almost none of my students hadn't wished me the oddest deaths in times; the most creative I have heard of so far, I believe, was that the snake on the Slytherin crest in the common room would spring to life one day and hunt me through the entire castle, until I cannot run away anymore. Charming people, you Gryffindors."

"Yes.", Harry pondered, avoiding his eyes, and swallowed hard. "I – wished you dead – ", the unmistakable guilt in Harry's eyes that were fixated on the box between them, did as much fascinate him, as it troubled him. "At the Start-Of-Term Feast."

"Did you believe it? Mean it?"

"Er – I'm not – sure – "

"Then why bothering?", Harry's head raised, their eyes meeting, more than ever, and he was somehow a little glad about the sudden change of topic that came.

"How d'you do that? Convincing him?", he knew whom Harry meant, but waited for him continue, not breaking eye contact. "How can you make him believe, that you're working for him, pretending that you work for us in order to get insider information, while it's actually the other way round? Or – is it? I mean, you seem to be good enough to make him believe, but who tells me that it is exactly that way round and that you don't – "

"You see, I have been told to own a certain talent for persuasion. Apparently, this appears to be true. I have my ways, yes. But surely, Professor Dumbledore also told you, that there exists another one with such an ability."

"Voldemort."

"Yes. While most people, even among his followers, are too afraid to not obey his wishes, I have figured methods to impress him, while not playing a total show-off. That would just be counterproductive, given that he sees himself as the ultimate one, the only person with the right opinion, with the greatest intentions. I tell you something now, I have never confirmed to anyone."

"Which is?"

"The Dark Lord, is not as powerful as he claims to be. He might have done his best to diverge from this state, but he is still some sort of human being. And those, have flaws. It is the nature of every tyrant to seek for those flaws in people and use them for his or her own benefit. However, they tend to overlook that they themselves are flawed. I find it highly entertaining to show him his lacks in the most subtle ways, so he alone sees them. If others did, he might blame me for it, and therefore have a good reason to kill me."

"So you're – "

"After all, and although people tend to question my methods, I used to be a successful teacher for many years, able to make people remember the words I had said to them, even years after, when they actually need it, and yet they find themselves embarrassed enough to admit their defeat so long time ago."

"I confess,", Harry frowned boredly, "I had just thought of using a Bezoar in both a lesson for antidotes as well as Ron's accidental poisoning, just because you taunted me in our very first lesson."

"You see,"

"Yes. But you still didn't answer my question, Sir. How can you understand Voldemort? In a way to know how he thinks, but not making him notice or doubt you?"

"Oh, he does doubt me, but as I said, I can be very convincing. A trait I have taken advantage of hilariously many times in my life, for the one or other cause. I do see the world neither from my usual point of view alone, nor completely objective; I see it as whole, consisting of zillions of tiny pieces of a puzzle, each and every living being, the same for themselves. We are nothing but differently arranged energy. Once you understood its vague way of travelling in a certain field, you can draw conclusions from that."

"You mean, you do nothing but – dismantling – a gadget of nature?"

"Very well phrased, indeed. Yes, so, while I bothered to study and understand the Dark Lord as a whole individual, as well as an accumulation of many, many bits of various kinds, for others who are too insecure about their own abilities and therefore frightened to even consider the possibility to understand him, the Dark Lord has ever been, and will ever be, a riddle."

Severus could prevent a smirk from moving his lips, however, he couldn't help throwing Harry the flicker of a wink. But what that did to the boy, once he got the hint, prevented every possible cheer from leaving himself: with a sighed chuckle, Harry closed his eyes, lowered his head once more and started laughing brightly.

Just to watch him lean back into the chair, with his head gliding into his neck, the closed eyes, the broad grin, the whole body trembling with sudden joy – and then, the eyes, like in slow motion, the green eyes became visible again by the lids lifting. It had been so long ago, Severus could hardly believe it to have been in the same life, when Harry had stood there, yet much smaller, but some snowflakes on his mess of thick black hair, those eyes behind the glasses that still fitted him, and the cheeks below a bright red once he had realised he had gotten a present, with the same cheer, the same sparkle in the green sea, a smile more honest, more true than anything in the world.

Only seconds, it had lasted, only seconds before it slid off, became confusion, concern.

"Sir?", Harry whispered.

Feeling it just when they did, his lips closed softly, and he knew it wasn't much, though distinct enough for Harry to see it. That much he could tell from the next change in his expression. Now the boy's lips drifted open with an obvious sensation and Severus shortly closed his own eyes, his head bending closer to his chest with a deep breath.

"Forgive me.", he sighed in return. "It doesn't happen all too often that you laugh in my presence. Especially not, that it has been my silly words to – "

"Not at all.", meant Harry, and he could then see the gentle hint of a smile that came back to Harry's face, understanding that he must have looked the same. "It was a surprisingly pleasant change."

Merely a few seconds later, after forbidden lingering, Severus decided it was better to get up and do what Harry had asked him to do many minutes ago. With a sigh of his own, though wordless, Harry followed him outside.

Walking to his right, he passed the blue torches of the underground corridor with him, towards the spiral staircase to the Entrance Hall. Though halfway up, heavy panting and loud, fast shoes tore Harry from his thoughts. He could barely press his back against the wall. Everything was just a blue lighted black mass, stumbling back downstairs. A loud, high pitched gasp. Even more intense panting. It sounded like someone was close to suffocate. Utterly confused, Harry took the few stairs to the ground in reverse, where he saw him against the wall, obviously towering a student.

Her breath became dangerously close to actual suffocating now. Then she was already laid down flat on the corridor floor, eyes wide open in panic as she struggled for air. Horror rushed through Harry's veins and bones when he recognised her.

"Breathe slowly.", his soft, low voice tried to calm her down, his left hand under her head and the right on her shoulder. "Concentrate on your breath. Only your breath. In and out. And in, and out.". looking straight up at his face, she followed his orders, though her inhaling still sounded very alarming.

"Hermione – ", Harry aspirated and he knew immediately he had done the wrong thing.

Her head had rushed at him and her breath got stuck. The rattling was arrows of ice to Harry's blood and he felt that the terror on his face was nothing short of hers.

"Don't look at him.", Severus was still serene. "Look at me. Breathe. Slow. Slow. Calm down.", his right hand was now on her cheek. "You are safe. Just breathe.", her eyes fell shut and she swallowed in between, but she could actually breathe easier. "Sh, sh, sh.", his voice became an even softer whisper. "Everything is all right."

The words struck Harry as much as her. A familiar feeling shot through him. The feeling of warming arms, rocking him back to sleep. He tried to lock it out, when Hermione started to weep quietly.

"Sh. Don't cry. You are safe here. Everything is fine. Don't cry.", her breath had calmed down, but it trembled from her crying now.

"M-make it – s-stop – ", Hermione gargled in tears. "H-hurts – so much – "

Only then Harry saw what had happened. He stepped closer to her head, the shock back. Her clothes were soaked with blood at her chest and Harry recognised the wound to be exactly along the scar she had kept form the battle in the Ministry last year. Paralysed by the familiarity of the situation, he could hardly grasp the words past his flashing memories.

"Hold her head, Harry."

"What?"

"Hold her head, for Heaven's sake!"

"Right – ", Harry knelt down and shoved his hands beneath his friend's bushy brown hair, the tips of his fingers briefly meeting the hand that pulled back.

A long black wand was drawn from his left sleeve and wandered down the blood trail. The song-like incantation Harry had heard him mutter before, zoomed the still trickling blood under the fabric back into her wound and closed it. A finishing flick and Hermione's clothes looked as though nothing had happened to them. Now it all broke into her. She cried heavily and trembled on the floor, against the calming hand that was pressed to her shoulder again, her head quivering in Harry's palms.

"Who did this to you?", Severus asked softly.

"P-", she sniffed, "P-", one more try, "Peeves – ", Hermione chuckled feebly, her eyes remaining closed.

"All right. Can you breathe?", she nodded. "Does it still hurt?", she shook her head. "Where?"

"What?"

"Where is he?"

"Was on watch – heard – looked – "

" _Where._ ", he pleaded.

"Class-classroom – _the_ – _classroom_ – up – seventh floor – "

"Good. You stay with her. Bring her to your House as soon as she can walk.", leaving Harry speechless, he stormed upstairs.

"Harry – ", Hermione gasped so quietly, he almost missed it again, though his eyes were on her instantly when he realised.

"Hermione – are you – "

"Yeah.", she tried to sit up, but couldn't without his help. "What were you – doing on the stairs?", she was still just whispering. "With him?"

"He wanted to escort me upstairs."

"And your detention?", Harry was surprised by how good her brain was working, even in her state.

"Er – cancelled."

"Cancelled?", Hermione giggled, but coughed atrocious immediately.

"I think, you shouldn't laugh."

"Oh really?", she let out a sarcastic groan. "Why did he cancel it? First he was so eager to move it to today and now he's cancelled it?"

~~#~~

Tapping. Impatient tapping of a shoe on stone floor. Curling lips, a furious stare down the corridor. Crossed arms. An old oaken door materialised to his right in the wall he leaned against. He didn't take his eyes off the corridor when it opened.

Silent tears. Something white clutched in his hand, lifeless. The door vanished behind and he walked straight forward, trying to dry his tears with his sleeve.

"Is this what you call wise?"

The boy spun around on his heels, dropping the messed feather ball in shock. Seeing the angry face, he started crying once more.

"You lost something.", Draco jumped and looked down, letting out a miserable whimper. "Why."

"Why _what_.", he picked up the dead bird.

"Why did you do that."

"Did _what_."

"Don't worry. She couldn't speak openly in front of Harry. He believes, Peeves attacked her, or so I hope, he does. But we both know the truth. And he isn't dumb, so – "

"The Mudblood was spying on me!", Draco cried.

"Don't call her like this."

"But she is!"

"That is an awful word, Draco."

"Tz.", Severus took a deep breath, shook his head and went over to him.

"So, what did she do to you? Did she hurt you? Threat you?", Draco avoided his look. "Did she give you _any_ reason that justifies – "

"Justify? What justified Potter – ", his sentence was shut by a forceful hand on his chin, turning his head.

"He had no idea what the spell would cause."

"How can _you_ know?", Draco mumbled angrily, not looking into his eyes that hit him like hot iron needles. "Read his mind?"

"Whereas you know _exactly_ what it causes. _So?_ "

"Yes. I know _exactly_ what I do, Sir."

"No, you don't."

"And she had no right to nose around."

"It was her watch. She had all right to. You, on the other hand, hadn't. It's not your day. But it is your _birth_ day and it disappoints me to see how you spend it."

"You got it, Sir. It is _my_ birthday.", he snarled, "If you excuse me now,", he seized his teacher's hand, "I'd like to go to bed.", and squeezed the dead bird into it.

"Draco – ", hasty footsteps down the corridor, the boy spun once again.

"Ah you caught him already, Severus!", the little man called, a girl with dark hair and skin in tow. "Well, well.", none of the other three saw the plumed white thing disappear in the pocket of a black robe and a wand being drawn. "According to Miss Patil here, he attacked Miss Granger?", the two had closed up. "With an evil spell?", Draco frowned at the strange movement of Parvati's eyes.

"No, Sir!", the girl sang. "I said, she was bleeding like hell! And he witnessed it! It was Peeves who attacked her!"

"Peeves? What? But – ", Flitwick was confused. "Didn't you just say – ", he looked around between the three, "But – Malfoy – "

"No, Filius. It was Peeves. I already got him. He confessed."

"Oh.", visible depletion emerged on his face.

"You should bring Miss Patil back to her House."

"Alright, alright. I'll do that.", Flitwick sighed. "Come on, girl."

Once they were gone, drab silence was back in the corridor. It seemed like hours passing, hours in which Draco only stared down at the distant wall before the corridor turned left, ignoring the eyes piercing into his neck.

"You should give that to Loony Lovegood, Professor.", he then huffed and began to walk in the direction he still faced, "She likes animals that are connected to death.", and stumbled as something small hit the back of his head. "Ow!", he rubbed the area and turned around, finding himself presented with the most livid look his Head of House had ever given him. "You – you just – ", his eyes wandered down to the white misery on the battered stone tiles and back up, "Threw a – you hit me with a _dead bird_ , Sir!"

Without a sound, Severus became only a mass of black fog, making Draco's clothes flutter as he rushed by and turned invisible even before he flew around the corner. But the boy didn't see it. His lips curled and his grey eyes became lakes again. With a sniff, he crouched down, and carefully picked up the lifeless white bird, holding it gently to his heart with both hands. A cry echoed from the ancient walls of the empty corridor and his chin dropped to the tiny head that peeked out atop, his eyes falling shut like the bird's were.

~~#~~


	33. Chapter 32 - Foundations of Relations

– Chapter 32 –

 **Foundations of Relations**

Many came late for breakfast on the following Saturday morning. So did Harry and Ron, even after the owls had brought the mail. Naturally, Hermione had already read through Ron's _Prophet_ and was now working on several papers, needing quite a large area to her sides and therefore sitting rather abandoned in between Ginny and Parvati.

"Where have you been?", the two boys were greeted harshly as they sat down opposite to her, who didn't look up from a parchment she was scribbling on.

"Good morning, Mum!", Ron frowned at her and gave his sister a questioning look as well, when that one snickered into her toast. "What's this rubbish?"

"I have been taking this subject for three years, Ronald,", she sighed but still didn't spare him a look, "And you still ask me the same question, every day, every hour, every minute and every time you see me working on it."

"It's Arithmancy, Ron.", Harry whispered to him with an ironic smirk.

"Well, wonderful, Harry.", Hermione sang. "At least _you_ have grown some brains."

"Blimey, Hermione!", Ron gasped.

Harry could absolutely understand her mood. They hadn't told Ron anything about last Thursday evening and they never would.

"So? What's in the _Prophet_ , Hermione?", asked Ron and scanned the first page absentmindedly, more focused on the bacon he reached for.

"A tragic event occurred last night."

"Really?", his eyes were glued to the paper at once.

"Mr Ronald Weasley has lost his ability to read.", she pouted and Ron huffed at her.

"Had ourselves some _Essence of Snape_ for breakfast, or what?", chuckled Ron and Ginny grunted onto her toast with a crunch, resulting in her nose being dug deep into the jam, though she didn't miss the split-second angry glance Hermione gave her from the corner of her eye.

"You cannot gain an ` _Essence_ ´ of a person, Ron. No matter what Patrick Süskind wrote."

"Who?"

"Oh pardon me, it slipped me for a second that you _can't read_."

"That's a Muggle author, Ron.", Ginny snickered again when leaning over to him, the jam gone. "And she's been reading his books _for three years_ now."

"And he wrote that one can gain the `essence´ of a person? Sounds a little bit perverted, doesn't it?", chuckled Ron.

"It would include killing.", Hermione said cold. "And no, I didn't kill Snape."

"Didn't you? Not even figuratively?", Ginny chuckled under her breath, but Hermione pretended not to hear her.

"Hang on! She's probably right! He's still alive!", both Harry and Ginny turned their heads towards the open golden doors. "Didn't he say, he won't be here?"

"He said nothing about his reason for changing that one detention to an earlier date.", it was Hermione again. "And maybe it reaches some barely important part up there in your head, he probably wants to have something in his stomach before he leaves or does whatever he does today."

"Looks more like he wants _you_ in his stomach – ", Ron swallowed.

"I am not a cannibal, Mr Weasley.", Hermione's eyes; still on her notes; gaped with shock – but not for the reason the people around her looked up to the man who had stopped exactly behind her.

"Sacred blancmange powder – ", she gasped. "No – no, no, no – ", her fingers searched over some papers in the near with panic, " _No, no, no, no, no!_ But that can't be – no – shit – "

"Mind your language, Miss Granger."

"Oh shut up – no! This is not supposed to – "

"I beg your par-?", he snarled, but she heavily waved her free hand to somewhat shush him.

"No, no, no!", Hermione moaned, ignoring the fact that he got out his glasses and frowned over her right shoulder.

"At least you got that here right."

"What?", her head rushed to the side and nearly crashed into his.

"But this one's a whole load of kibosh.", he curled his lips and straightened.

The fascinated stares of everyone around on him, he lively took off his cloak, which simply shrunk to the size of a walnut in his hand. Amazed gazes followed it slip into the pocket he had taken the glasses from. Then he swung his legs over the bench, sat down in the gap between her and Ginny and snatched the pencil from Hermione's hand. She too watched him trail his fingers over some of the papers on the table, almost all of them filled with numbers and peculiar signs. Tapping every here and there and dropping the one and other nod, sigh or even snort, he finally took a deep breath, still surrounded by disbelieving stares and Harry's interestedly narrowed brows.

"This looks more like it should be fifty-seven."

"Um – ", he took her left hand and lifted it.

"Oh yes, forty-two is far off the target. May I?", he now pointed on the paper with her hand.

"Of course, Sir.", Hermione swallowed as he picked the paper and placed it to his right.

"Are you sure, you copied down the Ansuz Function?"

"I – oh my god!", she gargled with a moan. "Oh no! I totally forgot about that!"

"'En tha's tha bigges' sgudal ye could've wasted yer time wit'.", he muttered, and although everyone around frowned, Seamus appeared to be the only amused next to Ernie who; having turned about along with some fellow Hufflepuffs; snickered into his hand.

"No!", Hermione whimpered, ignoring Parvati's demanding look to obviously figure out what had happened to their teacher's usual correct speech; Ron meanwhile had his face in a terrible grimace and Harry couldn't help grinning, in spite of the troubled glistening in his eyes.

"It is no' _tha'_ tragic."

"It is!"

"No, it's worse. 'Cause tha' makes ev'ry single thin' on 'ere, 'ere an' 'ere useless.", he took three seemingly random sheets, screwed them up and carelessly threw them over his shoulder. "An' tha' 's well.", a fourth parchment flew to the middle corridor. "Is 'ere still anythin' I could write on?"

"Yes, Professor.", the girl hastily reached into her bag and pulled out a new sheet.

"Thank ye. Now 'en, gimme a minute an' ye'll feel tha need ter kiss me, Miss Granger."

His tone was absolutely serious, but Hermione blushed at an instant and Ginny played with her hair, avoiding any looks with widely opened eyes to the enchanted ceiling. Ron's mouths stood as ajar and Harry mirrored Ernie, only with his elbows on he table, but he didn't care. His own eyes and the fingers of his left hand flicked over lines, numbers, signs and runes, while his right hand wrote down calculations that looked like the most complicated and confusing thing on earth. Not for him and Hermione though. Her expression soon resembled Ron's and her mouth fell open too.

"You're – doing it – backwards? Sir?"

"It is way easier.", he had regained his abili– _will_ – to speak _proper_ English. "You only have to bring the pre-numeral signs in order."

"The opposite?"

"Exactly. Well, almost. There are some exceptions, but if you figured them out,"

"But we never – Professor Vector – "

"Is a good teacher, but only human. And that here is the most incredible nonsense I have ever seen in such a calculation.", he murmured and pointed on a term to his left. "Nor can you use an indefinite integral for this. And those terms are incoherent."

"No, they're not."

"Believe me, Miss Granger, they are."

"But she said that is legitimate – "

"Did she?", now he was visibly upset.

"Yes."

"Still?"

"Still?", repeated Hermione.

"Never mind.", Severus puffed and – winced at the voice behind him.

"Oho! What do I see here?"

The way his fingers caressed the pencil wouldn't have made anyone want to be in position of the tool. Nevertheless he put on a light fake smile and slowly turned his head up, past the big belly, looking over his glasses, much like Dumbledore had done when having had a sedate chat with Madam Maxime.

"A very good morning, Horace. How was your night?"

"Dreadful.", Slughorn sighed.

"Oh really?", the sarcasm was as unobvious as a fully grown Chinese Fireball midst hundreds of green geckos.

"Yes. Someone broke into my office."

"How tragic!", Harry and Ron exchanged quite clear looks on his poofy tone. "Let me guess – they stole _all_ your wine."

"How do you know, Severus? Always a nose for such, right?", he chuckled very pathetically. "Oh students these days – no scruples, no. Well, fortunately they didn't find the Scotch. So, helping Miss Granger with Arithmancy? You must know,", Slughorn now addressed Harry and Ron, probably due to the mere fact that they stared up at him, "Dear Severus here had brilliant marks in all his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, you see?"

"I found the average rather boring, if you ask me.", Severus snorted. "Though if national laziness and more important matters hadn't crossed my way, I would have gone for the whole lot, solely for the mere sake of it."

"Ah probably. But Outstanding in all eleven O.W.L.s and the nine N.E.W.T.s you took, had indeed been _nastily exhausting_ for your colleagues to witness, right?", this chuckle of his was a little more lively, and the gulps, breaths and quiet gasps all around were hard to miss.

"Oh yes. I frig myself to sleep every night with the highly pleasuring memory of _Unicorn's_ tears when he saw me standing up there, receiving certificate after certificate.", Harry didn't need his eyes flicking at him for a split second to know whom he meant.

"And this – _absolutely_ touching Thesis – ", Slughorn didn't seem to have heard him in his debauchery.

"Now, if you are done with swanking, I would be very grateful if you let me continue working here. I am hungry and want to get this over with as soon as possible."

He though regretted the add. Hermione had snatched a toast with ham from Harry's plate he had just put there and held it right under Severus' nose.

"Hermione!", the bereft moaned.

"Put that down, Miss Granger. I do not eat poisonous things.", he murmured and looked back up to Slughorn, whereupon Hermione ate the toast in one go.

" _Hermione!_ "

"You are still here, Horace?"

"Well, I wanted – to say – something – ", he dreamily gazed at Harry. "Harry m'boy,"

" _I am sure_ , we all can live without that. And keep your graspers at bay, or you might just find a hand pouring your _precious little Scotch_ over your _precious little shelf_ and _give it a spark_.", Severus snarled through his teeth.

Slughorn froze, only his eyes on him now. The other teacher however gave the paper between his hands a glance, finished a term, underlined the result and lazily held the sheet up in front of Hermione's nose as though it was covered in some disgusting slime. As fast as his eyes; still surrounded by the same expression; were back up on Slughorn, Hermione tore it from his two fingers and stared at it.

"What? Fifty- fifty-seven – ", she aspirated fascinated when he put down the pencil, still not breaking eye contact with a now heavily blinking Slughorn. "That – can I kiss you now?", it blustered out of her; Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Seamus and Parvati choked at once.

Menacing silence, all around, everyone's looks on her. And that for approximately a year.

"I don't know whether you can, but if you want to die, Miss Granger, then of course.", he moaned at her.

"I want to die – ", she added hollow.

"Cor blimey! I mean' tha' lit'rall-", his voice broke off in mid-murmur when he had spotted something. "Wha's – ", totally dumbfounded, he gazed and breathed at a paper that was still under her hands. "Oh me – 'is – 'is migh' work!", he yanked it from her. "Well blow me! It migh' _actually_ work! Incredible! Ye 'ave – tha basis 'ere – I've been searchin' fer _two years_ until I le' it – ", he took another deep breath and returned to scribbling for about a minute on the empty side of the sheet he had easily won back from her; Harry suddenly felt himself reminded of a certain theoretical O.W.L. he had witnessed through a memory.

None of the students had ever seen him running like that; or even running at all; and most of his former teachers had forgotten that he could. But within a few seconds he was up at the staff table with both his scribbling as well as Hermione's paper as evidence, pulled Septima Vector's plate with pie from between her hands and slammed the sheets onto the space instead, earning an alarmingly confused look from everyone in the hall. When she picked up the papers, he sat down sideways on the edge of the table in front of her and looked at the plate he held up with greatly confident boredom.

"Call me a rich man, Septima.", he sighed and examined the pie with a then slightly pondering smirk.

"Severus – what – _is_ – this?", with another sigh he helped himself to a clean fork and big bite with enormously childish relish.

"Abble bie."

"Excuse me?"

"Abble bie.", he repeated. "An' an absholud'ly delish's one."

"Severus! You can't just slam parchment under my nose and confiscate my breakfast pie!", he swallowed it down.

"As a matter of fact, I can. _And_ survive it, since it's _yours_.", a second bite went down his throat as he continued studying the remaining pie. "Now that we sorted that out, would you please be so kind and give me my five hundred Galleons?"

" _Five_ – _hundred?_ What are you talking about?", the woman moaned.

"Read.", was his long murmur in return and he went for the second piece.

"What?", she finally looked onto the calculations. "But – _what?_ Severus – no! This – this can't be!"

"Five hundred."

"Severus!"

"That was the deal.", he even ate the half eaten piece. "Don't make bets with students if you cannot cash in. I am slightly disappointed to admit that it has taken me twenty two years and some help to achieve it, but you neither set a time limit nor any other conditions at all, if I remember well – and I _do_ remember well. So,", he exchanged the sheets and the plate once more, "Thank you for the apple pie – I see it as a deposit – and try to give me the money as quick as possible. I have no idea when or whether you will get your next salary."

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Exactly. I need to frame those in gold now.", with the sheets in hand again, he slid off the table and walked back to Hermione, flabbergasted faces following him. "You are _still_ here?", he had come to halt in the somewhat corner between her and Slughorn, folded the two papers and put them into his pocket along with his reading specs. "If you stepped into a puddle of glue, you only need to say. I can make you move again in no time. People say I have a rather firm foot."

"I – er – well – ", Slughorn just stammered.

"But apparently it is your words that have been glued to the insides of your brain. Well,", Severus leaned over the table, took some baked whole wheat toast and wrapped it into a napkin, "Never mind.", and walked off.

"Where are you going, Severus?", Slughorn wasn't the only one to frown after him.

"Feeding crows.", he just sang back and gave him an absent wave with the toast, but without turning.

"Why don't you take some biscuits with you too.", Harry grumbled under his breath.

"He's – ", Ron aspirated, "Drunk!"

"No, he isn't.", Hermione sighed. "He's just – triumphant – "

"I know what he's like when he's triumphant and that's _not_ it! He's definitely sloshed! Didn't you hear his sarcasm? I bet, _he_ stole the wine!", Slughorn heard that.

"You – pardon?", the teacher shortly looked at him and then again after his colleague who strutted towards the doors. "Severus?", he called out. "Did _you_ steal my wine?"

"The sound of it splashing into the toilet was like a choir of angels singing for me alone!"

"Severus!", Slughorn bellowed and waved. "You can't – that is not what – hey!", he had disappeared up the marble staircase. "I am not done with you, you – you _mad clod!_ ", several people in the hall snorted into whatever was just in front of them. "Mad, you are! Simply mad! Merlin's beard!", the round man shook his head, brandishing his hand wildly.

"And how I agree with you, Sir.", Ron chuckled.

"Thank you, Wesley.", he sighed and dropped his shoulders, then turned and shuffled up to the staff table, muttering to himself.

"Down the toilet – as if!", continued Ron. "And it's Weas– "

"Quite probably.", Hermione corrected him.

"What?", said he and Harry together.

"He doesn't drink alcohol. Not a teensy little bit at all."

"And how come _you_ know something like that again?", Harry asked. "Has he accidentally dropped his diary in the library or what?"

"As I said, I do it the Moody-way. I simply pay attention.", she piled up the papers with a mere flick of her wand, shoved them into her bag and stormed off upstairs.

"Bloody hell!", moaned Ron. "They're both going nutty!"

~~#~~

Surrounded by ruffled black feathers and crumbs of toast, she found him where she had expected him. Though he only stared through between the bars of the parapet farther before him, out into the blue, his hands on the low wooden platform he sat on. It took her some seconds to see that he actually smiled. His smile was so faint, so fragile that Hermione feared, every move of her could kill it. So she carefully wiped away some crumbs and feathers to his right and sat down, dropping her bag behind her.

"I – ", she began, "I thought, you might want a proper breakfast. So I went to the kitchen and – ", cautiously she placed the filled plate with cutlery on his thighs, her left hand on his shoulder.

"You are sweet. Thank you.", it eased her to see a grown, gentle smile presented to her.

"May I k– ", but her question was already answered by his tender, soft lips on hers, though they were pulled away the moment she wanted to return the kiss.

"No.", he still smiled and adjusted the collar of her blue and pink chequered blouse as well as some strands at her forehead that had loosened from her plait. "You may not."

"Idiot." chuckled Hermione. "What kind of bet was that?"

"Just a stupid little bet to prove something seemingly impossible. Pity that she never expected me to win it. But this way it was much more fun to see her face. _And_ , I insist on my prize."

"Five hundred Galleons? Really?"

"Oh yes. Her fault. She put up that number.", Severus sang and started eating. "And to be honest, I am glad I didn't figure it twenty years ago, but _now_."

"Can I ask you something?", Hermione spoke after some seconds of silence.

"You know you can.", he said softly.

"What do you feel when you're up here?"

The silence continued. Eating a little slower, he looked ahead again. Hermione knew she shouldn't have asked. As a kind of remedy, she leaned her head against his shoulder and held onto his upper arm, her left arm around his waist, though trying not to limit his mobility.

"It is a good place to breathe.", Severus whispered after long minutes of listening to the quiet breeze. "I wouldn't say that it makes me happy to be up here, but it helps me clearing my mind without feeling locked in or lost in a wide, open world. It is a mix between, I think. Something neutral, somewhat different to other places on the grounds. I look out into the wide hills and mountains around or the loch, or even the far away stars on the night sky, but I don't fall into it all. The tower is guarding enough to keep me – on the ground, if you understand what I mean. It is hard to explain."

"And what would you say, the things you experienced up here – the memories connected to that tower – are they more positive or negative? Or really so balanced as you say?"

"Rather balanced, if I consider thoroughly, but a little more positive, yes.", Hermione nodded.

"So it's a good place."

"I suppose,"

"Luna comes up here very often as well."

"I know. We bump into one another, every now and then."

"So you talk?"

"No."

"No?"

"Not a single word."

"Not even greeting?"

"Good thought. But no, not even greeting. It's – how shall I say – not necessary – normally, she leaves when I come or the other way round."

"Normally?"

"Sometimes she stays."

"Just so?"

"Just so. As talkative as she may be in the right situations, as quiet she is, when every single word would be too much. A bit like Lily, if I think about it. She also had the right words or act for any situation, no matter if wise or the worst insult – or the right silence; she always knew. Well, at least ever since Sirius had failed to attack me with a pile of books in our third year; I blocked them all off, if it interests you."

"What did she say?"

"` _Don't be so mean to the books, Sirius. Their content isn't horrible enough that they deserve being thrown onto the floor_.´", Hermione couldn't help giggling. "She then summoned one from his bag in which he carried loads of loose notes, held it up as if she wanted to drop it and said, ` _What would you_ _say if I let that one kiss the ground?_ ´ He replied that she wouldn't dare. Of course she didn't _that time_ , but she said that she wouldn't because she had a lot more sense for values and Banished it back into his bag."

"But – Banishing comes in the fourth – "

"Hermione.", Severus gave her a warm laugh. " _You_ say."

"Yeah. Me.", she went in. "What was that with the `Thesis´? I've heard some seventh-years talk about it and asked McGonagall, but she said I would get to know soon enough. I fear, I won't."

"If you insist, the Thesis is written in addition to your N.E.W.T. exams, not exactly correlating with them, but developed in respect of the learnt. Hardly anyone does it due to the factitious hassle with the exams. It has to be a handwritten book of at least three inches thickness, of pure text, text size around half an inch. A thorough research with proper listing of sources."

"Whow."

"But you have the entire year to finish it. They act like it is some very top secret, only telling the N.E.W.T. students about it. The presentation takes place a week after the End-of-Term-Feast along with giving out N.E.W.T. certificates and is exclusively for the graduated and their families, as well as high Ministry Officials."

"I guess, it has to have a title?"

"Yes."

"What did you call yours?"

"` _Don't just smile_ ´."

"What?", chuckled Hermione. "And what was that about?"

"The origin and strength of happiness regarding the capability of a mind and its influence on the Patronus Charm."

"Oh! Well, nice topic."

"And fun to see everyone's faces; for example when I gave plenty of evidence that some highly established books and opinions were simply wrong."

"I can tell. Who else wrote a Thesis in your year? Lily, I guess?"

"Yes, Lily, Remus and Madeline Kendall from Ravenclaw."

"Remus too? What did they write?"

"Madeline analysed the development of spell creation over the last ten centuries, Lily encouraged Remus to do an outing as Werewolf, providing facts rather than theories written by people who had no personal experience and she herself focused on the meaning of descent in the then current society and war, pointing out her own."

"A Werewolf and a Muggle-Born speaking openly in front of people at that time? With the possibility of Death Eaters among the present? That's tough."

"That was Lily."

"I wish I'd met – "

Hermione sighed but was eventually stopped by a flame that erupted in midair, too stunned by it to hear that someone climbed the tower. Severus picked the paper before it could land on the floor and read it with interest.

"That is for you.", he frowned.

"Me?", frowned Hermione as well and snatched it from his hand.

"Yes. He wants to see you right now."

"Seems so. But why – ", she aspirated, flipping the paper several times in hope to find more.

"No idea. Though you'd better go. If he contacts someone this way, it is very urgent. Come."

"It clearly says, he wants to see me _alone_. I don't think,"

"I won't let you go alone. If he has something to tell you, he can tell me as well. Come on.", Severus raised easily though of the plate in his left hand and then pulled up Hermione with the right.

"And your breakfast?"

"It will survive the flight.", he winked with a smirk. "Shall he stop me from ea–", his smile froze at a specific sight and Hermione rushed around.

"What's _she_ doing here?", Draco Malfoy said hollow, his eyes were red and swollen, obviously from crying.

"Well, what are _you_ doing here?", Hermione snapped back, ignoring his condition.

"I assume, that means that you will have to face him on your own, Miss Granger.", she spun again, looking up to Severus. "Thank you for the effort on the breakfast."

"Any time, Professor.", she sighed and stomped past the boy, almost knocking him over.

"Granger – ", he halted her, but she didn't turn this time.

"What.", she hissed with her back on him.

"I – I'm sorry – I didn't mean to – "

"Didn't mean to _what_."

"You know – "

"Oh forget it, Malfoy."

"No – I – "

"I said, forget it.", Hermione grunted and went downstairs.

~~#~~

Much to her surprise, the shutters in front of the windows were closed, which covered the huge office in such darkness, she needed some seconds to see anything. Quiet and listening, she closed the door behind. The only sound she could hear was Fawkes' calm breathing, barely audible. Trying hard to see in the little light coming through the very thin slits of the shutters, she staggered further into the office and noticed that every single portrait on the walls was empty. He had sent them away again. That worried her slightly.

Suddenly, a light went on somewhere behind the high, throne-like chair. She searched her way around the desk and was momentarily blinded by the small but bright bluish shine from a wand. He sat on a cushioned bench in a lower alcove, a shimmering flat bowl floating in front of him. Hesitantly, Hermione walked down to him and sat herself to his left, her blinking eyes on the Pensieve for some moments. Then she looked at him and startled. The old man's face appeared older than ever. First she blamed it on the light, but then she saw that he had become alarmingly thinner. His right hand was completely piceous now and the skin on the right side of his mandible, although covered by his beard, was visibly darker.

"How far – ", she whispered, her eyes on his neck.

He understood and opened some buttons under his massive beard with his free hand, then lightly pushed the robe over the shoulder and held the silver bundles aside so she could get a better view. The dark colouring already entirely covered his right shoulder and collarbone as well as half of his neck. Hermione swallowed and curled her lips when he restored his clothing.

"You might wonder, why we sit in the dark, Miss Granger."

"In fact, I do."

"My skin has become sensitive to sunlight. It hurts if exposed to its rays."

"When I wanted to leave the Astronomy Tower, he just came up. He'd cried. Do you know how he believes to kill you this time?", Dumbledore lightly shook his head. "Do you think, he will make it? Before the whole plan goes awry?"

"I honestly don't know, but he rather should, not?", sighed the Headmaster. "Though Severus is better informed on the matter. I left it to him. You might want to ask him on details."

"Then we'll both leave it to him."

"So quickly not interested anymore?", he straightened a bit.

"Draco Malfoy is probably the only topic we skip, for entertainment purpose."

"I can understand.", Dumbledore nodded slackly. "Not the most delightful subject for a couple that isn't granted nearly as much time together as they would desire to share."

"What do you know about our relationship, Sir.", huffed Hermione. "Apart from the box you presented us with."

"Oh I see a lot more than you might catch me doing."

"Apparently. Like you saw from the beginning how much Severus hates Harry. So very much that he would give his life for his son's safety."

"Ah, I am ashamed to admit, sometimes even I am not perfect.", she could only snort on that. "A little too often, recently.", he added and earned another snort. "Fine, not only recently. You are indeed a persistent young woman. I fear, I cannot break your will to keep the secrets Severus may have entrusted you with?"

"Not at all, Professor."

"And he seems to have succeeded at training you in Occlumency."

"I suppose, it's a lot more help if you truly love your teacher, rather than detesting him on his own account."

"That is something I can still not understand. It would have been so much easier for Harry. Yes, I can recall having told Minerva myself all those years ago when we left him in the care of his aunt and uncle, that it would be horror for him to grow up in a world where he is known by each and everyone, but still – "

"Then I think, I should at least tell you one thing Severus explained to me. Security makes Harry careless and blind. He tends to have a blind trust, as well as blind hate. That is something I figured out myself over the past years, yes, but Severus confirmed that Harry actually inherited it from both his parents, who shared that weakness. Knowing that she was going to die, Lily made Severus swear that he would never reveal his true relation to Harry for the sake of his safety, until Severus himself would find someone he knew he could trust as much as he trusted her. And speaking about it, that is all I will tell you, Sir. I gave him my word and I have no intentions to break it any further. Besides, his behaviour did benefit your plans in the end, as I understand."

"Indeed, yes. Very well, Miss Granger, I accept, that you want to protect him, but you are aware that I have not much time left and would like to understand him a little better before I – ah – will be pushing up the daisies."

"If he doesn't want to be understood, you don't stand a chance, Professor."

"Yes, he has always carried his obstinacy through.", sang Dumbledore melancholic. "But you are right; the reason why I called for you is because I would like to show you something. You see, the man you love has never really been a saint and I do not wish you to make the mistakes I made in my youth."

"I know quite well that he isn't a saint.", Hermione spat. "I know he's a killer, and probably really good at it with more than just mice, but if you think I'd stop me from loving him, you are wrong. Love doesn't ask. As much as I don't ask anymore why he loves me or what he sees in me. I don't care anymore. I love him, he knows it and it makes him happy. That is all that counts for me. If you wish to shatter any image you think I might have of him, I'm sorry for you. There is a reason why we live at a certain time and why we see and hear what we see and hear. I respect time. I have learnt to respect the privacy he keeps on his past, so should you, _Sir_. And for Heaven's sake, _stop, picking, on my_ mind! _It hurts_ _!_ "

Dumbledore visibly shrunk by the fierce demonstration of her adamant will. But she was enraged enough to simply not bother that she had just managed to scare one of the considered greatest wizards of all time or verbally attacked a dying man. Gritting her teeth behind her now firmly shut lips, she browbeat him.

"Nevertheless you should see the insanity with what he gained his practical Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.", Dumbledore said so calm that Hermione finally understood how much Harry had wished to just knock him over for such ignorance. "This,", he took a flask from his pocket and held it up in the blue shine of his wand, "Is probably one of the biggest twists in Severus' life and assumingly the first time someone has performed Dark Magic in a Defence exam. It is, I believe, a part reason why Voldemort wanted him in his innermost circle. I have never seen anyone lose control in such a controlled manner before and ever after.", Hermione couldn't deny he had destroyed the safety capsule around her curiosity with this, but her expression remained cold.

"Lulling me with knowledge so I will blow the whistle against him in return? Dream on, Dumbledore."

"Miss Granger,"

"I know that he is way more powerful than he dares to admit. You should envy his modesty."

"Ah if Severus is one thing not, then it is being modest. He loves to showcase his talents. Or so he did, at least until he graduated. He was utterly up himself, a vice he and poor James Potter shared alike. Two arrogant braggarts that lost almost no opportunity to taunt one another, not only a few times getting – ah – rough."

"Quite understandable, considering that James loathed him the moment he caught sight of him, just because he fancied Severus' best friend at first glimpse."

"This might indeed have been one of the sparks – "

"It was _the_ spark. James was jealous and Severus protective. I don't want to know what James saw in Lily, but I know what Severus feels for her. Quite frankly, I don't believe you will ever be able to understand his motives unless you _really_ looked into his eyes.", Hermione was on her feet. "If you in fact care for Severus Snape, you should accept him the way he is. Because I accept that Lily Evans was, is, and will always be the love of his life. If you fail to understand that I love him enough to go through hell and back for him, no matter whether he now loves me as much or not or at all, then I'd like to express my condolences, Sir. May your life have a far quicker end than the grief he will carry around forever."

She pulled her own wand, lit it with a flick and stomped back up the few stairs and around the desk just when the office door burst open. Within a split second, his eyes found her, worried at the sight of her outraged face and movement.

"What did he do.", Severus snarled past her, as though he looked through the chair, down to the other light.

"Not he. _I_ am done with that baby. Come on.", she seized his wrist and pulled him back out. "Get me horizontal, or _I_ will be the one to kill him."

~~#~~


	34. Chapter 33 - Pandora's Box

– Chapter 33 –

 **Pandora's Box**

Saturday, June 28th, quarter to ten in the morning. The Entrance Hall, one back end under the marble staircase. Looking down the spiral stairs, Harry had no intentions to take them. No intentions at all. But he had to. If he didn't turn up, he could as much leave Hogwarts right now and hand himself over to Voldemort. His sanity winning the battle against his will, he started walking into the ground. Endlessly the stairs wound to the depths.

The last two Saturday mornings had been horror. Snape had punished him with silence. The only instructions had been a nod to the extra table with the cards and the office door held open for him when the time had been over. He hadn't even given him a glance and every time Harry had turned upon having had the feeling that he did, he had just found him working concentrated on some papers on his desk. Similar could be said for the Defence lessons ever since that – shoelace-incident. Even though the few inspiring conversations they had shared throughout the last two months – or probably just because of that, the teacher refused to share any more words with him now.

It felt as though he had stepped across a border, just as if talking to him normally was not allowed and now he was at last punished for having done so. Not long ago, Harry would have given everything to be ignored by Snape in class, but now he found himself ashamed to admit that he would give everything for only a single word or look from him, and if they were as loathsome and senselessly mean as could be.

Snape had driven it that far that Harry was already provoking him at any possible moment just to hear something like ` _five points from Gryffindor, Potter_ ´. But no, whatever Harry had dared to do, Snape had pretended he wasn't there, also freaking Hermione out. It wouldn't have been bad if she had remained with glares, but she had to pester him after every lesson or later on those days. Nevertheless he kept being as stern as her. Harry would never tell her what he had seen that evening. Nor probably ever about Blackbeard – or had Snape heard that sentence about biscuits before he had left the hall with some toast? Because, since then, ignorance had beaten attention.

With those thoughts on mind, Harry arrived at the dark wooden door, five minutes to ten. Unwilling to delay the moment of supposedly silent-once-more confrontation, he knocked three times. As expected, there was no answer. Though not wanting to risk another encounter like two weeks ago; which apparently had led to the consequent silence; he made some steps away from the door, leaned to a stone statue further down the blue lit corridor and waited.

Those minutes went by like half an eternity in which his thoughts were spinning around in his head. From Dumbledore to Ginny to Malfoy and Voldemort, even Luna found her way in there and cost him a chuckle eventually. Whatever situation, that girl could make everything seem to be a harmless cotton-wool ball, probably even changing its colours on its own. And sparkling. Grinning, yet disgusted, he imagined her forcing Voldemort to wear that wondrous woollen skirt, cap and socks of hers. Only, otherwise naked. And Harry knew that if there was any chance he could once use that awkward connection between their minds like Voldemort had when making him believe to have captured Sirius, he would implant him this picture. He was certain, this way he wouldn't even need to find his Horcruxes. All pieces of that bastard's soul would die from the massive heart attack at an instant.

Finally, the chiming of the distant bells. Harry checked his watch to be on the safe side, though grunting when he realised how pointless it was. After all he had set his watch according to the tower clock. He then walked back to the door and knocked another three times. Yet no sign. Had he overslept? Or was he still asleep? Or simply miscalculated time once more? A little frustrated already, Harry knocked again, with the same result. Annoyed, he pushed down the handle. The door gave in without any resistance.

A little surprising, music filled his ears. It was a sad but calm and somehow beautiful song, played on piano. Harry looked around. Greenish blue light fell through the underwater window behind the desk, casting the otherwise dark, crammed, but neatly sorted room in mystic gloom. He could have sworn to have seen a distant shadow passing. The Squid? Probably. For now, he ignored the shine of a chandelier coming from the half open shelf-door and closed the dark one behind. His attention was drawn to a very old looking box of record cards on the extra table in the corner. Harry went over, tilted the lid down and read the sign in dim light.

 _Property of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Do not open without explicit permission!_

But since it had been opened already, Harry took it for granted that he had been given this permission. He picked the first card.

 _Albus Dumbledore. Usage of a growth spell on a spider in class. Students fled. Spider died when being too big as to fit in the room. Confessed purpose. Twenty points off and detention, cleaning up the room non-magically._

Had Dumbledore really purposely blown up a spider in a lesson? Harry couldn't resist chuckling and stuck the record back, picking the next.

 _Albus Dumbledore and Elphias Doge. Flooded the Great Hall out of entertainment. No punishment as entire school was invited to go swimming with the pair._

Harry clapped a hand on his mouth to shut away a loud laugh. He searched further, finding all those acts of him actually too funny to be worth any punishment at all either, though he had indeed received masses of detention. Somewhere between, were also the curtains he had mentioned to have set on fire. Twice as far down the row, the names changed. Some people he didn't know, others rang a bell and he had the feeling that Hermione would have known immediately who those people were. The ones he knew, were former Hogwarts teachers he had heard of and even a number of current teachers.

Flitwick had once managed to turn Headmaster Dippet's nose green and his hair orange during an opening speech, McGonagall had transformed all house tables into working grandfather clocks which resulted in a mess of food and drinks on the floor and Slughorn had poured ` _some sticky, unidentified solution_ ´ down the Moving Stairs on a group of first-years. Professor Sinistra had thrown a telescope down the Astronomy Tower when she had failed at a test, which had landed on Filch's head, knocking him out for a week, and Madam Hooch had incinerated the Slytherin broom storage when Hufflepuff had lost a game against them. Madam Sprout had placed a number of biting kettle in Slughorn's desk, which had attacked him as he had wanted to get a paper from it during a lesson.

Listening to a second song, he randomly picked cards, suppressing more laughs until – he finally realised why he hadn't found any of those when renewing the records of the Marauders. Snape indeed hadn't been an innocent angel, nor uncaught – Dumbledore had confiscated these cards.

 _Severus Snape. Caused James Potter's cauldron to explode without a wand and no visible reason, but appeared angry. James Potter in Hospital Wing. Twenty points off Slytherin, detention._

 _Severus Snape and Lily Evans. Severus Snape kept yelling at Professor William Crowarth, Lily Evans punched Severus Snape in the face. Ten points off Slytherin and Gryffindor, double detention._

She had – what?

 _Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Conjuring a rope during Quidditch match. James Potter in Hospital Wing. Double detention and suspension for two games._

Even that made Harry grin. Probably it was because he just read his mother's name, or the fact that she had played Quidditch as well. Going as far as to knock her own team mate off a broom? He must have had done something really horrible that she had agreed helping Snape with such a brutal act. Harry wondered if James had ever forgiven her for that. But he must have, or he wouldn't have married her.

 _James Potter and Severus Snape. Duel in crowded corridor. Three students badly injured, five windows broken. Fifty points off Gryffindor and Slytherin, double detention._

 _James Potter and Severus Snape. Duel in detention. Headmaster office demolished. Separated extra detention._

 _Severus Snape. Testing illegal hexes and curses on duplicated mice in a storage cabinet. Detention and Ministry Record._

 _Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Confunding Professor Silvanus Kettleburn several times in a lesson to slap James Potter and Sirius Black whenever they gave a right answer. Double detention._

 _Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Caught missing detention purposely, hiding on roof around Transfiguration Courtyard. Twenty points off Gryffindor and Slytherin, double detention expanded._

 _Severus Snape. Placed dung bomb in James Potter's trunk. Claimed to be fair and vengeance to be legal. Awaiting decision._

 _James Potter and Severus Snape. Confessed placing dung bombs in one another's trunk. Double detention._

 _James Potter and Severus Snape. Duel in detention. Headmaster office demolished. Caution! Future cases recommend separated detention!_

 _Severus Snape. Demolished Headmaster office in a personal hearing. No punishment. Headmaster Professor Albus Dumbledore remains with a warning and record._

There were two more rows in the box to go, but as interesting as they were to read, Harry got tired of it. He had to read them later anyway, or had he? The song's end sounded rather delightful. A third one. It started with some dramatic chords, then went into a fast run, similar scenic and intensifying the longer the song played. Harry abandoned the cards and walked over to the shelf.

It was him. He sat at a piano that stood against the wall, his back and right side turned to Harry. That one was fascinated by how fast and elegant the fingers flew over the keys. At one point, Snape tilted his head back and the curtain of black hair slid off, revealing that he had his eyes closed. It stunned Harry like then in the Great Hall, with what passion the man played. The song slowed down a little and even though Harry's knowledge of music was lame, he knew that he switched into another song. It was more varied but equally sweeping. Towards the end, this one slowed and reduced as well. He finished it with a soft chord and took his hands off the keys, placing them in his lap.

Only then, Harry noticed that there were no sheets on the piano. Though he didn't dare to examine the room further. He felt totally out of place, like about to enter a sanctuary. So he raised his fist to the back of the shelf-door but was stopped in mid-move.

"There is no need for you to knock.", Snape said softly. "I heard your first attempts already."

Harry's fist fell slackly to his side. Snape didn't fully turn, though looked at the bedding. Giving it a glance as well, Harry now noticed that it was white cotton. He had rather expected him to sleep in black satin. Why, or why he had even brooded over such things, he didn't know.

"What did my Dad do to make my Mum agree helping you to knock him off a broom with a rope, Sir?", Snape huffed and looked to the wardrobe on the other side of the small room.

"It was _her_ idea, not mine. _I_ agreed helping her. You would be surprised to know how many other things she managed to bring me round."

"Then tell me, Sir. Or are they all in the box?"

"No, and no. There is only one place they are recorded at and they will stay there until I personally opt for their disclosure."

"Is it asked too much that the only people who are still alive to tell me about my parents, do so?", moaned Harry. "Sir? If you didn't notice, I had to grow up alone,"

"They gave their life for you. _Is it asked too much_ for you to accept things the way they are?"

"Oh, it is! Wouldn't you want to know the truth about your parents, Professor?"

"As a matter of fact, I _do_ know all truth about my parents."

"Well, probably a bad example, then. If your parents were dead,"

"My mother _is_ dead! I had to watch her die!"

Gritting his teeth and his hands wrenched to fists, he was on his feet. Harry unintentionally took one step back at the gruesome terror he was presented with.

"And my father – left us when I was a child, ripping away the future she had worked hard for, a future she had sacrificed almost everything for, only to – don't come at me with how alone you are, because you aren't. You never were."

"So you think, just because my parents let you sing to me, I was cared for? Just because Dumbledore made you spy after me as a postman and the Dursleys had a rather feeble eye on me too, you think I didn't grow up alone?"

Harry jumped aside as he stormed for the office door, ignoring the hasty steps following him after some seconds. He was so fast that Harry could hardly keep up. They already reached the Entrance Hall when Harry managed to get closer.

"I was scorned for being my parents' son, when I didn't even know how they actually died! If you had done your job right, _Sir_ , you might have seen that they treated me like the utmost disgusting piece of mud!", raged Harry, though his feet stopped moving as though Snape had commanded them by spinning around himself.

"Albus Dumbledore doesn' know thA slightes' bi' 'bou' why I asked fEr a free Monday mornin' fEr _nine_ years!", he barked, and a certain vein could be seen pulsing at his temple. "Yes, yE 'eard me, 'opefully! An' I 'ave seen it! We 'ave sUm'thin' in common yE wouldn' even dare tER expec', righ'?", Severus spat. "ME ENTIRE CHILD'OOD Lon' it's only been mE mother tER notice 'ow I was treated bE everyone else fEr thA mere fac' o' bein' thA way I was like! So dUn' tell me tha' I 'ave no idea! _DUn',_ _tell, me!_ "

"Great! But just because we seem to share that fact, you have no right to treat me like the ugliest heap of crap around the entire world!"

"An' I though' ye'd understoo' even a bi' o' wha' I've been tryin' ter tell ye in years!"

"Those years in which you kicked me around in every lesson? Jumping into an ice cold pond in winter is far more pleasant compared to – "

"Dun' make me laugh! Ye've go' no idea wha's it like – "

"You're right! but anything feels better than that cruelty you – "

"Why, yes, wha' a grand idea! nex' time ye're mean' ter achieve sum'thin', remin' me ter throw ye inter an ice cold pond! Per'aps ye'll succeed – "

"What the – "

A third voice joined in, coming from the marble staircase. He noticed that there was another person with her, spun again and rushed through the open front gate, out of sight, their quarrel still echoing from every wall.

"Bloody hell!", aspirated Ron. "What was _that?_ "

"Harry?", moaned Hermione, hurrying down the last steps.

"Nothing – ", Harry mumbled, staring outside where he had gone.

"What did you do? What did you say to him?", she pleaded, unable to stand still. "Other than that – "

"I only – confronted him – with – what I – "

"With what you _what?_ ", she grunted and sped off, catching sight of a black something disappearing at the stairs to the docks.

"Hermione?", Ron frowned. "What's that now? Harry? What the heck happened? Why does _she_ run after _him_?"

"Forget it, Ron.", sighed Harry, wondering how he could even speak, now that more and more bits of information started to form solid in his head. "And I have no idea.", Dumbledore didn't – know?

"And what's that awful language of his again? Harry?"

"Stop hammering on my brain, right?", he yelled and Ron stumbled one stair back up. "I said, I have no idea what this is about! All I know is that Snape just ran away from me!"

"Easy,", chuckled Ron. "Well, if you knew what you look like, you wouldn't wonder, mate."

"And what do I look like?"

"Almost like he just did, to be honest."

Harry's tension was blown away radically within a second. He didn't know for how long he just gazed at Ron, thoughts and memories rotating like a merry-go-round in his head.

"I – _what_?", he murmured after that long pause.

"Dunno.", meant Ron. "Er – I guess, no detention then?"

That hadn't even occurred to him yet. And even if it had, he wasn't all too sure whether he would have been happy about it. There were too many other things on his mind right now than those cards. Things he had never paid attention to, but now they were there and he had no clue how to cope with it all.

"Quite likely not. Even if he calmed down, I don't think I'd want to meet him again until it's really necessary. You know anything I can do to get on different thoughts?"

"Chess in an empty common room? Everyone's outside already."

"Sounds great.", Harry took a deep breath and followed his nod upstairs.

~~#~~

"Don't you want to try, Sir? It can really help if needing to get one's mind off.", she sat at the paved edge outside the boathouse, sunlight glistening in her fair waves like it did in the swaying water in front of her, in which she dangled her legs.

"I know what this does, Miss Lovegood. But I really don't feel like it right now.", he had sat down to her left, his arms wrapped around his knees and blinked out over the lake, fury and despair having a gruesome battle on his face.

"No, you should. You really should.", his eyes zoomed down when she started undoing his shoelaces.

"What the – ?"

"It's only for your best, Sir.", smiled the girl and took off one shoe after the other, placing them carefully behind him.

"You are aware though, that I am your teacher?"

"Oh, I am. But that doesn't mean I am not allowed to help you feel better, right?", too perplexed as to move, he let her pull off his socks as well and roll up his trousers. "Come on, Sir. It's really not difficult."

"Miss Lovegood!", he chuckled hollow when she grabbed his legs and forced them down into the lukewarm water.

"Luna?", Hermione came to halt behind them, panting heavily, which made their heads turn.

"Hello, Hermione.", she said.

"What are you – doing here?"

"Sometimes it just happens that two people meet at an interesting place, doesn't it?"

"Um – yes – maybe – Severus?"

"I think, I'll be leaving, Sir.", she pulled out her own legs and stood up. "You are in good hands now. I will go somewhere nobody can find me, so you can take me as your excuse, Hermione.", Luna still smiled and shortly waved them goodbye before she hopped towards the stairs up to the castle.

"What has she – ", frowned Hermione and sat down on her legs where Luna had sat.

"I have no idea.", Severus looked back at the lake.

"And what did she do?"

"Forced my legs into the water.", a little smile drifted over his lips. "She said, it would help me clearing my mind."

"Does it?"

"What do you think?"

"It does.", Hermione smirked and laid her arms around him, cuddling against his neck and shoulder in a very awkward sitting position. "What happened between you and Harry?"

"We tried to figure out how long it would take to yell the mortar out of the joints."

"Just as I thought.", Hermione puffed. "Well?"

"You unfortunately interrupted our attempt before we succeeded."

"Severus,", she warned.

"He discovered that I had kept an eye on him before he attended Hogwarts."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"How did he find out?"

"How did he _not_ find out, would be a better question.", murmured Severus. "It took him more than six years to notice that a former beloved postman and his most hated teacher are the very same person."

"What?", she raised her head and looked at his profile. "You turned up as postman?"

"I couldn't think of any other possibility to get to see him."

"But the house was secured, wasn't it?"

"To an extent. Why should it be necessary to completely shield a house, when the enemy is supposed to be gone, you see? And the Dursleys would have been even more of a pest if they had been locked in. Since they had three different postmen during the week, it was easy to sneak in on Mondays. I even got paid for visiting my son."

"And he liked you?"

"You should have seen him. Well, during the first years I only got the one or other glimpse on him, but when they had decided that he was old enough so they could send him to receive the mail sometimes, I even had some words with him.", Severus' sad smile over the lake brought tears to Hermione's eyes.

"When will you finally tell him.", she sighed and his smile disappeared into thin air.

"You know when. Stop wanting to discuss that with me. I cannot risk it. Lately, I let down my guards too far anyway. If I am not careful, he will start to like me. Should I allow myself just one more step closer to him, I fear, everything could be in vain. He isn't to know. Bad enough that I slipped the fact that I had watched him on my own account. Hermione, I can understand that you want me to tell him. Or do you think, it is easy for me? Do you think, I don't want to tell him any second I look at him?"

"S– "

"Every time I think of him, I just want to search for him and tell him right away.", Hermione pulled his head close to hers, stroking him.

"How long?"

"A week,", he breathed, "Two, if we are more than lucky."

"Oh my god.", aspirated Hermione. "And I told them to study for the exams next week – "

Finally Severus could laugh. That cheered up her as well, but it couldn't redeem the awareness.

"How far is he?"

"Draco, you mean?"

"Yes."

"I don't have the slightest clue. But understandably, he is in panic. It had taken him a year and being unable to succeed before term is over, will be his end."

"Oh can't you just go up there and kill him?", she murmured.

"Charming. You know I can't."

"Unfortunately."

"And that Draco still rejects my help is no benefit either."

~~#~~

"Yes, yes, yes, YES!"

"Oh shut up.", grunted Harry and got up.

"Sorry, pal. Didn't mean to.", Ron grinned.

"Never mind. It's just a game."

"Going for dinner?"

"No idea.", he huffed at the noticeboard, not really reading any of the notes on there, but they were a great excuse for turning his back on him. "I'm not hungry, if I think about it."

"I could eat an entire Centaur.", Ron sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Then try to. I won't help you with the hunt though."

"Will you finally tell me what happened yesterday?", Ron's smile was gone.

"You heard it, didn't you?", Harry grumbled. "Screaming contest. Seeing as he fled, I won."

"Yeah.", chuckled Ron. "And what was it about? You'll tell me that too?"

"No."

"Hey! I'm your best friend!"

"You think that's news to me? Still. That's – I don't know how to say – it's just – you wouldn't understand – "

"Now wouldn't I? Why not?"

"It's complicated."

"So is it? Then make me understand. Come on, give it a try."

"No.", the portrait swung aside and Hermione came in, wearing the same clothes as she had done the previous day, which was in fact noticed.

"Bloody hell!", he gasped.

"Not again.", snorted Hermione in return. "What's it this time?"

"Well, you're wearing the same as yesterday, and we haven't seen you since you ran after Snape! _Snape_ , if you know what I mean. And Harry's totally mad. Not wanting to tell me what's going on. Forgive me, mate, but why the hell shouldn't I understand it?"

"It's not like she hasn't done that before, now has she?"

"Because there are indeed things going on in this world you won't ever understand, Ronald.", Hermione snapped, trying to act is if she hadn't heard what Harry had thrown in. "Is it a crime to wear the same clothes two days in a row? Or spending time with Luna?"

"Luna _was_ at meals."

"Guess, _I know_. She brought me some."

"And you've been – where?"

"Honestly, Ron, that's none of your business."

"Hey!", he protested.

"And you really have no right to be mad, Harry.", she continued coldly.

"Have I not?", he finally turned away from the noticeboard.

"No."

"And why not?"

"Well, because you haven't. If you understood what he told you, you should be really grateful."

"Tz. He told _you_? So you actually caught him? What did he tell you? What did you do? _Was it nice_?"

"Harry,"

"Did you _calm him down_? With biscuits?"

"What?", Hermione and Ron said at once.

" _Or held hands, probably?_ "

"Don't be silly, Harry."

" _You think, I'm silly?_ "

"I didn't say that – "

"DO YOU THINK I'M SILLY?"

"HARRY! STOP THAT – "

"What the heck – ", Ginny had entered the common room as well.

"I'M NOT GOING TO STOP UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT EXACTLY YOU DID SINCE YOU RAN AFTER HIM!"

"I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER, HARRY!"

"WHAT?"

"She's got a good point on that,", Ginny noted.

"KEEP OUT OF THAT!", a bright red pulsated on Hermione's face.

"Easy, grump!"

"Take that back,", Ron threw in.

"YES, TAKE THAT BACK!", Hermione screamed.

" _Mind your head_ ,", that did silence her.

"Sorry.", she moaned after some seconds, blinking embarrassed.

"So? What's this about?"

"Nothing.", whimpered Hermione.

"I had no idea that people could become so outraged because of simply _nothing_. And that's saying something, considered where I've grown up."

"Forget it.", Hermione mumbled, angry again.

"No, I won't."

"Let me through."

"And where are you going?"

"Having sex with Snape.", she grunted when she pushed a shrieking Fat Lady aside.

" _What?_ ", Harry and Ron called after her.

"She didn't mean that.", Ginny calmed them and hurried after her.

"Girls – ", Ron aspirated. "Hey – where're _you_ heading now?"

"Dinner.", Harry groaned and gave the raving portrait another push.

Somewhere downstairs he could hear Hermione's angry stomping and saw Ginny's red mane disappear, but he didn't bother. His thoughts spinning around the same things they had had for an entire day, he hurried down the tower in hope his rush would blow them away. Though as always when he was longing for such things, some fate fought against his wishes and so he was stopped on a landing leading into a first floor corridor, by the voice of another upset woman and more footsteps.

"I really don't see any way how she can possibly tolerate that. I mean, I do, but just because I'm used to your idiocy. Nevertheless you should finally call it a day. He deserves to know it. And you can't hoax me into believing that you can bear it. Maybe you can, I don't know. Maybe you've become enough of an emotional stone. But I can't deny the thought _slightly_ troubles me. I know you, Severus. You're not dead in there.", they came around the corner, both their hair and clothes bouncing with their fast walking.

"Believe what you want to believe.", the man said grim. "I defined my position and if you just _slightly_ know me as you say, you'd do good letting the demons rest. Devastating your brain with questions you know you will never get answered is senseless. You understand not a thing."

"Then help me understand; it's plain simple.", she huffed, her eyes on him, but he avoided them, looking out of the windows to their right as they marched on. "You know I'm not dumb."

"For the last time, hopefully, it is _not_ simple. It might appear so to you, but it is utterly complicated."

"For _once_ stop thinking that your life's the most complicated mess in the world."

"Tz."

"But you told her, didn't you?", Burbage stopped and made him halt as well, finally looking at her.

"What makes you think I did?", Harry didn't fully see his face then, but he knew the annoyed expression to that tone far too well.

"Don't take _me_ for that stone,", she frowned back languidly, providing a spectacular imitation – and a pause.

"Perhaps you haven't noticed,", he continued more quiet and spun to the window by his side, "But first, I don't want to talk about it and second, even if I did, you should take a look down that corridor, before you bombard me with your nosiness.", Burbage turned her head, spotting Harry at last.

"Oh – ", the sight seemed to bother her enormously.

"Yes?"

"That – does indeed make it a little more complicated – "

"Well done. You learned to put one and one together.", he huffed and got himself a frustrated snort.

"Perhaps _you_ haven't noticed, but it _does_ hurt people if you're playing the prick – ", though she used a swear word, the Hermione-ish way she had said that, startled Harry a little.

"You should try it once in a while, it really helps when being unnerved. And your unnerved-meter has been near exploding too many times lately; which I can understand, but nevertheless – "

"Right. I won't tell you what you should do.", she said as softly as she could in her mood and, much to Harry's surprise, she went around him and reached up for his cheek, where she laid her hand, fondling his face with her thumb. "But I advise you to grow up.", before she had fully retrieved her hand, she raised herself on tiptoes and placed a brief kiss there. "And perhaps show a little smile."

"Why."

"W- hell, _why_?", the woman became more hysterical than ever. "You know pretty well _why_! It's not like I'm gonna die or something, I'm only pr– "

"If you don't go into hiding, you might,"

"Didn't save _them_ , did it? And where do you think I could go anyway?"

"Oh I don't know – China perhaps – ", she stared at him as though he was some sort of Fata Morgana, but huffed then, obviously having accepted his mood for sarcasm.

"Whatever. You'll see that I'm right. It won't happen again."

"Sure. Because this time there'll be no one else who could – "

" _And if I have to dye my hair red and wear contacts to make it get into your head!_ ", her shrillness was back.

"Charity – "

"Or to at least fit your favours – "

"Charity!", the harsh call silenced her for a moment, but then she did something probably neither would have expected.

"I'll be at dinner in the meantime.", not deigning Harry another look either as she passed him, she stormed downstairs. "Join me if you succeeded."

"Are you running away now, or what?", he gazed past Harry.

"I'm hungry for two!", her upset call echoed back up.

Harry was glad that none of the portraits by the entrance he stood at, commented the situation they had been forced to witness, if only with painted ears. He was certain that he had been the subject of their main conversation. That awareness kept him glued to the landing for a while and his eyes on the black figure by the window, who had turned to it again. He could see the pale face's reflection in the ancient glass, and faintly, the dark eyes travelling over the walls outside. Before Harry grasped what kind of worse trap his legs might be carrying him into, they already brought him towards his teacher. Arrived at his left, his gaze at the black curtain and the pale tip of a nose, the quiet words stumbled over a thick knot in his throat.

"I'm sorry – ", whether it was a good thing to receive no reaction, he didn't know. "I shouldn't have yelled at you – I – I just feel stupid – ", Harry pondered. "I mean, That you've been the first person I liked in my life and – and that it took me more than four years to – to realise that you're one and the same man – "

At least he lowered his head now. Harry could see the closed eyes in the mirroring image against the clear evening sky of the last of June. Never before had he seen the man so sad, almost grieving – or was he actually grieving? What had their conversation been about? And why had she given him a kiss? Could it be that they really were such close friends? Or – all Harry could do was staring up at him, helpless, forlorn as though in a maze of memories that appeared to have no comprehension and fit in nowhere, and tragic enough, he felt the way the other looked like. Though he then did the one thing that seemed right.

"Thanks.", he whispered over the silence of the corridor.

"What for.", grumbled Severus as he again looked out onto the school grounds, his eyes moving unconsciously.

"For exactly that.", Harry said a little more confident. "For keeping an eye on me."

Severus could only give him a nod. There was this ever so present urge again, the urge to just turn and pull his clueless son into his arms. But like always, he would have to resist. He decided to give in to another urge: to turn in the opposite direction and simply get out of the whole before anything that was not meant to could happen. Yet exactly that occurred. A firm hand on his left shoulder held him back as soon as he had set one foot away from the teenager. His racing heart nearly stopped when the boy carried on.

"Would it be possible if I – could – if you can't bear listening – could the postman deliver a message for me?"

"Which is?", he murmured.

"I – I forgive you.", Harry aspirated, a clearly woeful tone in the back of his voice. "I mean, we'll probably both have died by the end of the war, won't we? Or tomorrow already – who knows – so – as you said, when dead, no one can redeem themselves, isn't it? So I thought, you should know that I forgive you for everything bad you've done to me."

"If ye knew me, ye wouldn'."

"Just say, I suddenly and completely out of the blue, actually knew you."

"Ye wouldn'.", he repeated.

"What makes you sure I can't?", Harry didn't need to look at his reflection now to know he must be blinking his confusion towards the window – he knew he himself might have done so. "What makes you think I am so much like you? Needing a person to die before I could forgive them?"

"No. Ye're righ'. Ye're much wiser than me."

"Wiser.", the word left him with a deflated chuckle.

"Ye din' was'e yer time. I mean, ye did. Bu' a few years less.", Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn't remove his hand, putting things together he probably shouldn't.

"Wait – are you – are you actually just talking about Ginny and me?"

"She waited 'cause _ye_ waited. As much as she's become a really independen' youn' woman, she's still born inter a family tha's extremely conservative regardin' relationships. She tries ter break free, bu' on tha other 'and she's also comf'rtable wit' fittin' in an livin' alon'. Sum'times it feels like she's actually too tired ter do more 'an tha'."

"I believe, you told me you're not Dumbledore.", the sigh with which his head sank, cost Harry another chuckle.

"No' nearly. Rather like me, 'e tends ter play tha exper' on thin's 'e 'asn' go' a clue o'."

"So you mean, he doesn't know anything about love?"

"No' exac'ly, no. Wha' I mean', amon' tha many, 'e likes ter give relationship advices. Tha's rather rich, seein' as 'e – "

"Yes?", Harry drilled into the pause. "What. Is he a virgin, or what?"

"I – I dunno – really, bu' as 'is firs' real love ended in a catastrophe – and I 'ave no idea whether 'ere's been anythin' afterwar's – or if tha' relationship's ever been any physical on tha' aspec' too – "

"I – actually – meant that as a joke – ", breathed Harry.

"I know. Bu' why am I tellin' ye 'bou' tha' even. Ye're no' s'pposed ter know. Especially no' from me."

"Then I guess, I shouldn't tell him I know.", now it was him to cause an exhausted chuckle. "Maybe you told me, because you hate him for giving advices on matters he can only guess about?"

"Dun' 'a'e. Pitty's more like it. 'E takes 'is own wisdom fer gran'ed."

"That's not very wise,", Harry sighed, his eyes still at the veil of hair.

"No. Bu' it's actually people who take it fer gran'ed. 'Cause 'e's bound ter be a role model. I believe 'e's been tryin' ter mee' everyone's expectations so much 'e can' differ feignin' from fac' anymore. 'E's been playin' roles an' fergo' wha's 'im an' wha's tha roles. Though nuthin' o' tha' matters. 'E may be an ol' man, bu' 'e's still a child. An' ye canno' blame a child fer 'eir try ter – fi' in – "

"So you _are_ a little like me. You can forgive him his lies about knowledge, while he's still alive.", following a huff, Harry got to see the slightly uneven hair at the back of his head. "Look. I can understand that it must be hard for you to comprehend I can forgive you for being, mildly said, a scrote towards me. Only months ago, I would have strangled everyone who told me of the possibility. But now I do. I mean, really. I do. And I think, you pretty much made up for all long time before you did those things to me even anyway. I'm sorry that I couldn't. I – I hope knowing that, can compensate for what I've caused in return, and if just slightly. And I know it might be asked too much, but – could you – could you give me at least any sign that you understood what I said? That I mean what I said? Or – could the postman do that?"

No way out, no way around either. He had to face him. Both would regret it for their lifetime otherwise. And even though he wanted it so much, despite his desperate wish to only look at him, it felt like the hardest thing to do, especially now, while he tried to realise what Harry had just said. Even harder than – killing? Nevertheless he gathered all the courageous warriors inside him and turned, slowly, and without a chance to wipe away the few tears that had been too week to cling to his lashes. He didn't want Harry to see him like this, but he had not been able to think of a way to avoid it. For the first time in this case, he had failed terribly. As quick as the shock in Harry's green eyes had gone, the same emotion rushed through Severus' body – his skin, veins and bones – every single sinew – and within the split second in between, before he was fully aware of what was happening, an entire mountain of memories crushed down on him.

Lily's face when she had cautiously held up the newborn boy in sheets after James had collapsed in the kitchen in spite of his anger about the supposedly uninvited guest – the tears that had stopped flowing from Harry's eyes when he had reached out and Petunia had passed him on to his disguised father – the big eyes on a box of biscuits, snowflakes in his messy jet black hair and the incredible strength of the ten-year-old when he had lunged at him – the times he had managed to get himself locked in in the Hospital Wing without anyone's notice – or the even fewer nights he had been unable to stand it and had snuck up to that dormitory to crawl into a bed he had never been allowed but spent some hours in against all law. The loathing looks Harry had thrown at his teacher nearly every moment he had gotten to see him.

Those had gotten less over the past weeks. Stronger when they had found their way to Severus sometimes, but also less. They had made space for something else. Stepped aside for confusion and disbelief, before they at last had melted into brief shock, then transformed into concern and then determination in the breath until arms far stronger than they had been last time, had laid themselves around his neck. It was forbidden. Illegal. He wasn't to let it happen. But it felt so good he couldn't find any more bit of will that would break that soothing closeness. Drained completely, his head sunk down against Harry's, the hair left behind at his ear for some fortunate reason that granted a cheek to touch another and his pallid fingers dug into his son's school uniform, pulling him closer than ever – and crying quietly but bitterly like he had so often in his life, away from anyone's notice.

No time to question. Why they were allowed to be alone in that corridor. Why everyone was already at dinner. Why nobody seemed to be willing to walk past it in the Grand Tower. Thanking Charity for having left, he pushed every other thought aside then and inhaled each single second. His nose was blocked but he had not breathed so thoroughly in years, sucked in so much happiness, so much comfort. There would be a moment to come soon, a moment that would quite likely destroy all that, but the present indeed compensated all the sacrifice. It gave him the strength he had thought to have lost somewhere along the way long ago. He was ready to tear huge rocks with his bare hands. But for now, they were busy with doing something of highest pleasure and he bathed in the feeling, alive, whole, complete.

Hours passed. Days, weeks, months, years, decades – or probably centuries, neither caring how much time actually. It was enough for Severus. Enough to make him let go without regret and the though scarce smile that drifted on his lips had never been more honest. It reached his washed eyes, slightly pushed up his wet cheeks. He wiped off the tears on Harry's face and gently patted his head.

"Be careful.", he whispered to his flustered son, in his dialect, and the smile gone. "An' trus' Albus Dumbledore."

"Er – ", Harry aspirated out his confusion, blinking hard and he felt it as well.

"Promise me. Promise me ter trus' 'im, wha'ever 'appens. There are reasons. F–"

"I – I promise – ", Harry's eyes widened when the hair over his scar was brushed aside and a thumb glided over the bolt-shaped mark. "How'd you – "

"I jus' know.", Severus breathed, looked deeper into those stunning eyes – and couldn't believe his own sanity when he slightly bent to him again, for the softest touch his lips had ever given anyone. "Better?"

"Yeah.", it was so faint, it was hard to catch it as a word of confirmation, but he could feel the stinging pressure in his own head fade, as though the creature having caused it, retreated.

"Good. Bu' – bu' dun' think wha' jus' 'appened does ge' ye released from yer detention. As long as I am your teacher, you will continue to sort these cards and if it means that it becomes subject of your NEWT Thesis. We're both stuck in that mousetrap."

"Right,", the boy chuckled crestfallen, the confusion fighting against some increasing usual anger, but it was irrelevant as a gentle voice startled either.

"I'm really sorry to disturb,", said the fair girl in Ravenclaw uniform, "But this is very urgent, Sir. I think, Professor Slughorn is close to commit suicide."

"What?", both gasped and let go.

"Well, he disappeared in his office, muttering very disturbing things to himself. It was really scary."

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood.", he moaned and rushed off, leaving the young ones to themselves in the otherwise deserted corridor with finally a fairly good excuse, although he would have preferred letting Slughorn die.

"No problem, Professor."

Luna's face was rather worried, yet carrying the hint of a smile, and she seemed to think it better to direct it at the windows while Harry watched the waving black cloak disappear further behind her in the tower. It made him almost furious when he noticed that she seesawed with her hands hidden from his view and humming a very quiet song. A fury he couldn't control, and it really scared him that he felt the urge to just stomp towards that fragile girl he actually liked, and slam his fist into that absent smile. But the melody eliminated it somehow and he was glad it did.

"I know that song – ", Harry considered aloud, probably to dismiss this alarmingly brutal impulse a little more, drawing her attention.

"Do you?", she asked and stopped seesawing.

"Yes. But I don't know the title."

"Funny. I don't know who wrote it. I just caught Professor Snape singing it once and playing to it on the piano. He meant it is called `Your Song´. At least I don't think he wrote it for me, did he? That would be really strange."

"It would.", chuckled Harry. "Listen – er – you – you didn't see what – "

"Oh, I didn't see anything.", her smile grew a bit bigger with that lie. "And even if I did, who would believe me if I told them?"

"True.", Harry sighed, his head lowered and his gaze fell at an open shoelace that made him sigh deeper.

"I'm hungry. Are you coming to dinner with me?"

"Sure. Just – er – let me bind my shoelace, okay?"

"Of course. It would be too bad if it spared You-Know-Who the trouble to kill you, would it?"

~~#~~

On, on, on. Ever on. Not stopping walking. He couldn't. He was not supposed to stop walking. It was close. So close. Behind the door he would be. The others' footsteps echoed behind him. They would encircle the man and take him down. Then _he_ would do it. _He_ was the one to do it. He alone. He wouldn't fail. Not this time. This time he was prepared. There was no chance he could fail. He could already picture the life leaving the old man's blue eyes. Sudden silence behind. The steps were gone in the moment his hand pushed the door open. Turning to the corridor, he found an empty hall instead. A high black cabinet stood there, the doors hanging askew and broken. Heaps and heaps of little dead birds and mice covered the floor. Panic flooded his stomach and he turned back to the door. But instead, there was only a pair of cold, red marbles with slit pupils, staring from a white face. To his feet, two lifeless bodies, blood running from their wide open eyes and mouths into a pond of red that slowly trickled towards his own feet.

"You could have done it, dear boy.", the hissing voice spoke to him, the pretended pity echoing as though standing in the middle of a high, dark cavern. "It was so easy. You were so close, but you failed. So close. What a shame. Look at them. You could have saved them, _so easily_."

A thin bony wand was raised and with the image of his dead parents gone in a bright green shine hitting him hard in the chest, he gasped for air. His eyes sped open, as he panted heavily into the darkness above him. It took him some seconds to realize that he laid in his bed, rather than on a cave's ground. But not for long. Unable to go back to sleep, he crawled out, stuffed up the blanket with conjured cushions so it would look like he was there, quietly dressed and left the dormitory. Out in the deserted drab common room, he finally slipped into his black shoes and adjusted his suit. Tonight he would..tonight he _had_ to..there was not other option..he _had_ to succeed..

~~#~~


	35. Chapter 34 - Gnawing at Death

– Chapter 34 –

 **Gnawing at Death**

Frustrated, she sat in the library again, frustrated that she wouldn't have much time left to use that hall. The mere thought – that everything he had told her at Christmas and insisted so hard on ever since – that he would have to be the one to kill Dumbledore just in order to protect – at least she had a vague impression now what Severus' life was like. She was part of that life full of lies – she was hiding things so essential for Harry to succeed – so essential that he wasn't to know because the knowledge of it might make him fail. After all those months still a gruesome logic, but she had given Severus her word. She had sworn not to tell, just like he had sworn not to tell. At least Dumbledore had finally given up wishing to interrogate her, apparently knowing, that he had more important things to concentrate on now. Just like her. For the first time, she didn't give a damn about exams – and didn't even feel regret.

Eyes almost fallen shut, she skipped pages over pages for Potions awards. Eileen Prince. She was nowhere to be found. Was that girl really just false hope? Was it in fact – _mere coincidence_? Robbing her eyes, she picked up the old photograph taken from the _Prophet_ for what felt like the thousandth time. With a chuckle, she stared at the round glasses. Her shallow face; she looked almost like Myrtle. Obviously very pale and not too pretty. Well, she was. But only at – the thousandth and first look. Hermione sighed, got up and put everything back in order.

Up in the common room she was greeted by Ron who didn't look too awake either. Harry had left for Dumbledore again. Just in the moment she had asked whether he had returned already, he was storming in through the portrait hole.

"I haven't got much time.", he burst, completely out of breath. "Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen to me. Listen closely."

By the look on his face she knew she wouldn't see the library ever again. The story he spat out, confirmed the awful truth with waterfalls of calamity crashing down on her. This was it. Malfoy had succeeded at whatever his preparations had been. And she had a vague idea, what it might be.

"Don't look like that, Hermione. I'll see you later."

She only stared after Harry and Ron at the sock in his own hand, keeping the rest of the Felix Felicis. Luck. As if it would help anyone. She knew it meant that Harry expected a battle, and this meant that her gruesome idea could just be right. Otherwise he wouldn't have given it to them. Otherwise he would have kept it for himself, for obtaining the Horcrux. And that, hadn't occurred to her until then. That there could be any way to smuggle in Death Eaters. Would Severus really let it come down to something like that? Would he accept the blood of innocent students defending the school, be spilled, just for then killing an already dying old man to prevent one boy from becoming a killer? And then victim? Just for the possibility of keeping a stupid wand from Voldemort's grasp?

" _He's_ gone mad now finally, hasn't he?", Ron chuckled.

"No. I don't think so.", she swallowed, the photo of Eileen Prince still in her hand.

"Now hang on.", he noticed it, "You're carrying this around like it's a relic.", and snatched it out of her hand.

"Hey!"

"Honestly – you think she could be that Half-Blood Prince? The _greatest_ Potions Master of all time? I mean, yeah – she looks like Snape, but that doesn't make her good at Potions, does it?"

"What?", Hermione aspirated, snatching it back from him.

"Apart from her glasses – which she could have stolen from Harry, you can't deny she does look a bit like Snape. Only the nose isn't that awful."

"The nose – "

 _While I came exactly after Mother, he was Father's mirror, if not so well-built in the end. I inherited a tiny bit more of Father's size_ _– and his nose, unfortunately._ How – how could she have been looking at that photo for so many times and not having recognised this face? _His_ face? After she had studied it so many times? Even after she had seen how she had looked like years after school?

"Hermione?"

"He left them – she looked after him alone – the – after all that had happened, it was the mother – married a Muggle – end of story – "

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

"I – what?", she glanced at him, then stared back at the photo. "I – that – ", `bastard´ remained unsaid. "Give me that map.", she seized the Marauder's Map and searched hastily – there – in – Slughorn's office – "I'll be right back, Ron. Right back.", she snorted and handed him back the map.

"What?"

"Wait here! Please! Try not to lose that flask! If Ginny comes, make her stay as well! Just – do as Harry said! I'll be back in some minutes!", she moaned, rushing through the portrait hole.

"What the hell – "

Running like her life depended on it, she sped downstairs and through corridors, past an outraged Filch who didn't even see who had just hurried by. There was a slight tremor, causing her to stumble. Something ringing in her ears for a moment. Then it was gone. Though she wasn't in the mood for worrying about that. Not even if it meant that the shields around the school had broken and Death Eaters were about to flood the grounds. Sliding around a last corner, she came to halt in front of Slughorn's door right when it was opened and Severus stepped out, looking rather annoyed. But there was no time for caring about his expression.

" _YOU!_ ", she barked, pushing the surprised man back in. " _YOU!_ ", they both landed on the thick carpet, Hermione sitting on his groin then, boiling with indignation.

"Miss Granger!", Slughorn moaned. "Could you please discuss your relationship problems somewhere else than in my – "

"SHUT UP!", she panted heavily, making Slughorn back away. "YOU!", Hermione yelled again, slamming the photograph on Severus' chest. "HOW _CAN_ YOU? IT WAS _YOU!_ IT WAS _YOUR_ BOOK! _YOUR_ SPELL! _YOUR! MOTHER!_ "

"Leave us alone.", he said calmly to Slughorn, who didn't need being told twice. "Close the door.", he waited for him to be gone. "Hermione – "

"You lied to me!", she cried.

"I didn't."

"You did! You said that Harry's mind is and open book for you, but you knew about _the_ book because that is the only thing the spell has ever been written into!"

"But Harry's mind is _indeed_ an open book for me,", he noticed.

"That's not the point! You also said you have never heard anyone saying that incantation!"

"Because the only times I used the spell, I did it without speaking and Harry had said it _before_ I entered the bathroom because the Vow made me feel that Draco had gotten hurt."

" _That is not the p_ \- what?", she broke off, perceiving the meaning of his correction. "You – "

"Exactly. So stop yelling at me.", he tenderly took her hands. "I didn't lie at all. And where did you find that photo anyway?", he nodded to the paper, still lying on his chest.

"It was in the library.", Hermione sighed.

"Naturally.", he murmured. "I thought I had forgotten at least one."

" _What?_ You've – you've raided the articles?", she didn't need waiting for his answer. "And now you tell me that you actually placed that book in Slughorn's cabinet, or what?", she moaned.

"Yes.", he answered calm.

"No!"

"I missed half a lesson, spending it in the Potions Classroom invisible, waiting for him to finally turn up and then confunded Horace so Harry would actually get his hands on my old book."

"Oh, my, _god_!"

"I had to undo one day that I ruined a talent which had ever been present in my family tree, hadn't I?"

"You – but you know what you did by that?"

"Yes, I know, and I feel absolutely sorry for that. But listen, Hermione. We don't have much time. Horace had kept moaning at me for hours, crying his soul out, until I got a phoenix-delivered letter from Albus. That is why I was about to leave, right when you knocked me over. He has discovered the hiding place of a Horcrux and will try to retrieve it with Harry tonight."

"I know. They just went off. Harry told us everything. Also that Trelawney had been caught by Malfoy who had been ` _celebrating_ ´ in the Room of Requirement."

"That was in the letter as well. Hermione – the task Draco has to fulfil – he finally got aware that he will not be able to do it alone. There is a Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes."

"A Vanishing Cabinet? We have spotted him in the shop in summer, walking around a huge – but what use would it be?"

"Do you know how a cabinet like this works?

"I – no.", she said honest.

"You would need two of them, both working, and form a passage in between. Then you could use it to travel from one to the other, even across magical barriers like those around Hogwarts. There is in fact a second one, here in Hogwarts. Maybe you can remember, a former student of mine, Graham Montague, had been thrown into it last year.", and how she could recall Ron wishing that guy the worst. "Though due to the fact that Peeves had damaged the cabinet before, Montague nearly died from it. It was like he had splinched, cut off around the waist. Now it seems, Draco has managed to repair it and rebuild the passage."

" _What?_ ", at least that was proof that her guess had been right, but –

"Hermione – I have gotten to know whom he wants to bring here. Any of them is almost as dangerous as Voldemort himself! They will wait for Albus to return and circle him. That is when I have to be there, kill him and lead them all off the grounds again. By that letter, Albus has officially made me the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It is on me to protect the school tonight, but also on me to act as a true Death Eater so I can – "

"Cary out the full plan – ", Hermione nodded faintly. "So Ron and I will do exactly what Harry told us? Protect Hogwarts with the other teachers?"

"Yes."

"But the cabinet – it would be a weak point of the school then, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"So the passage must be destroyed once more.", there was a pause. "You say, Peeves just dropped it?"

"As childish as Peeves might be, he is a very powerful Poltergeist. Though not a fully living being, he is capable of magic, as you know. I think he did a little more to it than just – "

"What would destroy it? Fire?"

"Perhaps, yes. But it would need to be powerful, magical fire."

"You don't happen to have the hair of a Death Eater who is involved in the plan?"

"Hermione – "

"Well?"

"Get off me, please."

Hermione was still sitting on him. Taking the photo, she stood up and helped him to his feet. She watched him rummaging for his pouch and summoning something from it that looked like a –

"Now that is a little macabre.", Hermione frowned when he laid the bone down on the carpet and pointed his wand on it. "What?", it had turned into an obviously dead body of a woman, wearing a black cloak over her dark magenta robe with tufted sleeves and an ornamental decorated, dusky pink Death Eater mask – if it hadn't been for the size, it could have been Umbridge.

"That is Isabel Mullbridge."

"Rather _was_.", smirked Hermione.

"She was a very mysterious woman. Rarely speaking; being there when he called for her, but never to be found by anyone else. It was not easy to track her down after her name slipped out of Draco's mouth. When I had finally found her, I intended to use Veritaserum to get information, but she unfortunately seemed to have found a flask of the antidote which she then carried with her and was able to drink it all before I could force the serum down her throat."

"But you have found out what you needed nevertheless, right? You – you tortured her!", Hermione interpreted his look right.

"How does this come as such a shock? But yes. And it wasn't until her last breath when she coughed out the information about the Vanishing Cabinets and the people probably coming and that she would be the one on guard if he should actually manage to form the passage. You see, rather than Harry, Draco has done his Occlumency homework. Though flurry might still give him away. Nevertheless he has been persistent enough to not grant me any access."

"Does anyone know she's dead?"

"No."

"But they would be curious, wouldn't they? If she's supposed to be on the watch, I mean."

"Yes. That is why I didn't want her to die, you see?", Severus moaned.

"And Polyjuice Potion only works with the living. You know that even better than I do.", she snorted.

"Oh yes. And unfortunately she completely shaved her hair and cut her nails to prevent such beforehand. She was a very prepared beast. I can go far in torture, but actually ripping off nails or cutting off fingers even, is beyond pleasures. Yes, for me as well. And you also know that blood doesn't work. But well, I already managed to get someone to take in her place. Since she never said much, I only needed to find a woman in her size, eager to break some rules. After all, we have those Marks. They come in handy sometimes, if you know how to trick them so he doesn't get aware of the use. But it is dangerous. You won't know whether he knows or not. So on that matter, I decided for – "

"How tall is she? I can't tell – "

"Hermione!", he caught her intention immediately. "No! I already have someone for the job!", but she countered with a stern face.

"We don't have much time, don't we?", she pointed out. "And I'm here already"

"And I said, no."

"Severus, I'm not dumb."

"I never said you were. But once in a while we all happen to have such a moment of incredible naivety, where we develop this one absolutely brilliant idea which we fall in love with instantly and nearly fall victim to it as well, but fortunately a second later someone comes crashing into our world like a Dragon escaping from Gringotts, smashing it completely by telling us that our idea is the biggest rubbish anyone, dead or alive, has ever managed to come up with, by presenting us with this simple, necessary two-letter refusal."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. No Dragon can escape from Gringotts."

"If someone set it free,", he noted.

"Right, I agree with you, but only because you have given me proof of the possibility of such a situation right away. However, setting one of these free, is probably one of the dumbest things to even consider."

"I never said that I would want to free one of Gringotts' Dragons, and that is actually not the point here."

"Se– "

"I said, no."

"And I said yes.", she hissed, glaring at him.

"It is dangerous, Hermione. One toe out of line, one split-second of their doubt – are you sure, you really want to do that?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Positive."

"Very well, but you _must be utterly careful_.", he warned, cautiously taking another thing from his pouch: a walnut sized orange crystal, very similar to the Instant Darkness Powder Fred and George imported. "When they are gone, wait at least half a minute before you open the cabinet. Place this inside. Don't, and that is important, _don't_ close the cabinet. That would make the crystal move to Hogwarts. Set it on fire. It is powerful enough that you only need a small spark to lit it. Then you have ten seconds to leave the shop and Disapparate back to Hogsmeade, before the whole area shows its guts to London. Can you do that?", Hermione nodded. "All right, change your clothes.

It was disgusting. Taking the robes off a dead Death Eater for wearing them – she wondered for how long the woman had been dead. The transfiguration had obviously stopped the decay. She was happy she could keep her own clothes on beneath the robe and cloak. Holding the mask in one hand and the photo of Severus' mother in the other, she looked down on the dead body. He hadn't even bothered to close her eyes. Between shock and relief, Hermione saw that they were of the same colour as hers.

"I should take her with me, put the clothes back on her and _then_ burn everything. It would look like she had died in the explosion, so nobody would know the reason, right? Just in case they might search for parts of her body."

"That – is a great idea. The spell – "

"Os Humanum.", Hermione said, pointing her wand at the corpse in underwear.

"Wonderful. Finite will lift it."

"I know. I did some research after Barty Crouch's death.", she picked up the bone and stowed it into one of the large pockets of the robe. "Would you – like to have it?", she held the photo towards him.

"Thank you.", he sighed, sadness drifting out of the depths of his eyes as he let it fall into the pouch. "Come.", the moment she took his hand, they became invisible.

He had been outside all the time, walking up and down in front of the door, humming a random melody. When the door swung open, he startled, peering into – they had already reached the Entrance Hall when he noticed that there was no one in his office anymore.

Rushing through the gathering dark of late twilight, Hermione saw the houses of Hogsmeade getting bigger. They landed behind the Hog's Head, safely away from anyone who might see them – if anybody should dare to be outside at that time. Solid ground under their feet and visible again, they sadly looked at each other, Hermione hanging around his neck seconds later. She was happy she was going to wear a mask. It was a nice excuse for crying unbridled. His arms wrapped around her back, gently stroking her with his free hand. Some tears trickled down his cheeks as well as he inhaled the smell of her hair.

There was not much time, but enough for a last kiss. Seeming like years later, they parted, gazing into one another's eyes. With a sad smile, Hermione wiped the tears off his face.

"Did I ever mention that eyeliner looks good on you?", a slight amused chuckle, suppressed by sorrow.

"Take care, Hermione.", he gently laid the orange crystal into her right palm after she had put on Mullbridge's pink leather gloves.

"You too, Severus.", a last stroke over her cheek and he flew off, disappearing behind the roof of the bar.

This was it. This was the beginning of the end. A small orange crystal. Plain, but powerful. Like love that didn't show to anyone. _If you truly love, you will have to abandon._ Ready, she replaced her own wand with Isabel Mullbridge's in the pocket and let the crystal slide into the other, hoping the bone wouldn't set it on fire. Then she bound her hair together, put on the mask, pulled the hood over her head, turned on the spot and was gone.

~~#~~

How long? For how long would – flipping the coin in his hand, he leaned against the tapestry, staring at the blank wall which he would be entering. A little tired, he yawned. Hopefully Trelawney wouldn't remember a thing. At least he felt that he had discovered her early enough. There was no way she could have seen him. Now, all he had to do was waiting. Every now an then, he rolled up his left sleeve and eyed the lines, only to push the fabric back down. No. He just couldn't call them yet. People from the Order and Aurors were patrolling and starting a battle too early, could mean that he would have to face Dumbledore alone. But actually, that was what he was hoping for, somehow. Face to face, only the two of them. He had to be quick, had to – but he just couldn't take him in his office. Hadn't the dream told him – though was – such a rapid change of plan wise? But he had no option, had he?

Considering it another time, he spun and hurried off, to the Astronomy Tower. Being the highest of the castle, there was no chance Dumbledore would miss it. And in case, he had Rosmerta as a spare. Reaching the topmost platform a little exhausted, he looked around, into the dark night. Only a few lights were on in Hogsmeade. Though it was ice cold, he checked the coin another time. It still carried the same small line: _D gone_. Now he just had to wait for it to change, cast the Mark and hurry back down without being seen. And he _had_ to be fast then. _Very fast_ , that much he knew.

~~#~~

Gentle and silent, black fog sank down in front of the open doors to the Transfiguration classroom. He had no idea why he had landed there instead of flying on through the open arches and into the corridor leading fastest to the Dungeons – or even to the front courtyard immediately, but it must have been some deeper need of his. Maybe it was the need for some company, though the sleeping animals in the cages inside the opened classroom weren't the company he had hoped for. He studied a crow for a while, then walked over to it and carefully opened the cage door. The bird raised its head at the quiet sound and looked back, blinking its tired eyes. Then it screeched once.

"Sh. I will not harm you.", he whispered softly, but the crow seemed to know.

When he stuck his left hand in, it slowly walked onto it from its bar. It climbed further until it sat on his lower arm, where it clawed to his sleeve for a secure stand and Severus pulled back the arm, carrying the bird outside. It still just eyed him when he stopped in the arched corridor around the yard, looking into the night. The crow turned and tilted its head, as if it wondered what would happen next. Severus however stroked it, placed a soft kiss on its head and pushed it off, into the yard. He couldn't even smile at the grateful call it threw back when it lifted into the sky and was gone into freedom.

Far in the distance, there was a familiar melody. A song he knew. It echoed through the corridors and the air around him, but from his distance probably only audible due to his sharp ears and because he knew it. Its mournful tone resembled his face and he knew that the lyric mirrored his current emotions – his life, even. He couldn't help but quietly sing along. That woke the other animals which protested and he stopped as he felt he had done them wrong by bothering them with his woe.

It took them a while to calm down. Minutes in which he only stood there, staring into the yard and sky, listening to the song, parts of it repeating over and over after some pauses in between.

"Maybe, one day.", he whispered again. "Though no' ternigh'."

The song getting louder with the dwindling distance, he rushed invisible through the corridors towards the source, until he reached the bottom of the marble staircase. A group of students was hurrying through the front gate and he halted in mid-air, flying around the handrail to let them pass. After them with angry feet, the not anymore Deputy Headmistress, possibly still unaware of the change. She just shook her head, huffing after them as they fled upstairs.

"Unbelievable!", she called. "That is fifty points off each of your Houses!", the choir broke off and Flitwick turned to see what was going on. "You are lucky that I haven't seen your faces!", Severus knew immediately that it was a lie and stepped from his hiding place, visible once more.

"Being attentive tonight, Minerva?", she jumped and clapped her hand on her chest; the two Aurors flanking the open doors to the Great Hall drew their wands.

"Goodness, Severus!", the woman panted. "You gave me a shock! Mooching about corners does not bring you any friends, have you not realised that by now?"

"It did in fact bring me the best friends I could have ever had.", he was slightly amused by her heavy, confused blinking, but he didn't show. "You should go to bed, Minerva. It is not a pleasant night to walk the castle."

"Not pleasant? Not even for you? That must mean something,", she chuckled with a soft smile. "Then, sleep well, Severus."

"So may you.", he gave her the faintest smile in return and walked down to the Dungeons when the Aurors finally lowered their wands.

~~#~~

Eyes as blind as the ancient walls around; probably even more blind than those. There seemed to be something lurking from the cracks between the bricks, but he couldn't bother less as he hurried past. Flatly greeting one of the Aurors, he rushed around another sinister corner, his wand ready in hand. He needed no light. Other than the portraits, he was neither asleep nor blind in the dark. Nevertheless concentrated on any other noise apart from his quiet shoes or calm breath, he passed the sheer endless walls and staircases, knowing each of them by heart. Another pair in the Entrance Hall greeted him more vividly than he waved at them. Inside the Great Hall, where the Houseelves seemed to already have prepared the dishes for breakfast, the choir was still practising a song in Latin. It sounded mournful and he understood that it was about life and regrets, but didn't pay further attention to it.

Like in meditation, the stairs appeared to rather move past under his feet than he crossed them and the spiral drilled more into his mind than the underground. Flashing as his left foot reached the lower floor first, torch after torch flared up on its own in cold blue light. Momentarily hit by the change, he stopped and squinted. But only a couple of seconds later, his eyes got used to the blood chilling hue and he set further into the Dungeons. The next thing that halted him was already the door he had been heading for.

Composing himself with a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked. A last-second-attempt to straighten his hair and clothes and the door was opened. In the blink of an eye he saw something like concern in the face he was presented with, but the expression became annoyance at an instant.

"May I come in?", Remus whispered nervous at the sight of the blue lit pale face that was framed by slightly messed black curtains which shimmered softly in the shine of the chandelier behind.

" _Good evening_ as well, Remus."

"Oh yes. _Good_ evening."

"And no, it wouldn't be wise if you entered now."

"You are fully dressed. Is there someone who isn't?", smirked Remus.

"No. Still you come at an inconvenient moment. You should return to your post.", Severus said seriously and attempted to close the door, but it was stopped by Remus' flat hand.

"No, as well.", he snarled. "You said I'm always welcome here – and it's really urgent."

"If you must,", Severus huffed and let him in. "Well? What is so urgent?", Remus though only gazed around. "Hello!", he sang, making the stunned man jump.

"What? Oh yes – er – is there something going on, I should know about?"

"I merely felt the need for a little change. I got tired of the sorting.", murmured Severus boredly.

"Save it. What's going on here? What will happen that the DA knows about, but not the Order?"

"No idea.", Severus shrugged and walked over to a shelf, taking books from it and piling them up on the desk manually, just to make himself look more busy.

"Stop acting like a teenager!", raged Remus, tore another pile from his hands and ferociously put them atop the others. "Not even as such, you were that childishly ignorant!"

"Then why say?", noted Severus.

"Say what?"

"That I act like a teenager."

"Oh come on." Remus moaned. "You have a bad breath, by the way."

"That is probably because I haven't eaten a thing since breakfast.", huffed Severus and crossed his arms.

"Here.", Remus pulled a little metal box from one of his pockets and opened it. "I haven't tried them yet, but they're said to be good against a horrible breath."

"Thank you.", grunted Severus and took one of the yellow drops, distorting his face a little at the taste of sugary lemon.

Rounded up by their eyes drilling into one another's, the following silence lasted what seemed to be hours. During it, Remus' anger faded and both their looks became close to sadness as they listened to the song coming from upstairs, waiting for either to restart the unpleasant questioning or blocking. It was as if memories were travelling between their eyes, yet it was only Severus who knew exactly what was going on in their minds. Remus just wasn't good enough at Legilimency, although Severus wasn't shielding his mind at the moment. The sugar collapsed and he swallowed some sweet liquid which tasted like fresh spearmint. He ignored the fact, much to his own discomfort and by the second he realised he would soon be losing control of his actions at least, he already found his very own emotions clashing with ones he knew he would have never had under normal circumstances.

Remus put down his wand next to the books and lifted his hand up to Severus cheek, placing it there, hesitant but softly. Though Severus avoided his look. He gave the impression of not being moved by the occurrence at all, but in fact his insides were burning when Remus started brushing his cheek and ear. Not burning with disgust, which he craved for now, but a madly boiling creature swamped and dragged the disgust away from his grasp, drowning in the inability to fight against the effect.

He trailed his fingers through the silky strands of hair, visibly dazed by the sensation. Severus shivered every time his skin was touched, but still had enough control left to prevent his body from showing it to Remus. When his eyes were on him again, Remus had stepped closer. Far too close now to be legal by any means, their breaths met, then their lips. Four eyes closed as Remus pulled his head closer and Severus failed to refuse at last. Hating himself, he lost and gave in involuntarily, returning Remus' kisses that became more passionate with every move.

Soon they found their tongues in a fierce battle and buttons being opened. Severus felt a pair of rather rough hands gliding over his chest, where they met with the pouch, the rings and the locket and his senses struggling from a tiny cell, locked in far away. Panting heavily, they parted. Remus only stared on the objects, but he couldn't let him ask. Glad to have an excuse, but nearly in tears by the horror, he pushed down Remus' shirt and jacket in one go, revealing more scars. Remus did the same and a black mass, topped by a white shirt, landed on the floor as well before he moved his hands to Severus' pants, back at kissing, a little more endearing now.

Only their socks and shoes left, they ended up in the closest embrace they had ever shared. Remus hands wandered up Severus back and he startled again. Giving him another questioning look, his surprise grew as Severus pulled him down onto their clothes that seemed to have spread evenly on their own. Studying a grieving gaze, Remus received another kiss, now half lying on him.

"Who did – ", he started quietly but was hushed.

"Dun' – ", Severus whispered, lightly shaking his head – he knew he couldn't stop it, but at least avoid the worst and hopefully fetch up a quick end. "Dun' say a word.", he reached into his pouch and pulled out a small wooden casket. "Jus' take me."

"Take you?", Remus frowned at the condom he picked and then put the casket aside. "I actually hoped for the opposite – "

"I said, dun' say – "

"Did you ever do it this way?"

"Are ye deaf?", a gentle wave of his hand and the door finally shut, locking out the choir's sad song; he didn't need music to tell him about the miserable state he had been tricked into.

"No, but there's obviously something terribly wrong with my ears. Did you really just say you want me to – "

"Shu' up an' do it or ye'll never see me again."

~~#~~


	36. Chapter 35 - Rudimentary Aid Build-Up

– Chapter 35 –

 **Rudimentary Aid Build-Up**

Drab half darkness. She had landed under an archway, staring into a small side passage of Knockturn Alley. Deserted. Not even in this dark part of London, the darkest people dared to come out at twilight. Slowly stepping past grey old bricks, she approached the dark windows of Borgin and Burkes. No one was there either. The shop was so shrouded in darkness she couldn't see a yard far through the dusty window. Stifling silence. Not a move, neither up, nor down the curved lane. A lonely crow she hadn't seen, rose from a broken roof, making her startle a little. Breathing heavily through the slits of the mask, her fingers clutched the thick oaken wand, her heart pounding. _They have Felix_ , she thought. _They have Felix. They will be fine. I have – Severus_. She closed her eyes. The thought of him calmed her down. He would be killing Dumbledore tonight. Almost half a year she had lived with the knowledge of this moment to come. Now, she was prepared. It wasn't killing him. It was delivering him. He had made Severus Headmaster. Hogwarts was safe. It was alright.

Her feet already hurt, while she still tried to calm herself with those thoughts. The lights of London around the alleys lightened the sky so much it wasn't actually dark and the longer she looked up, the more stars would appear in front of her eyes, the sight slightly managing to distract her from her fear. She had no idea for how long she stood at that door, taking only some steps here and there and around, just to prevent her knees from collapsing. She wasn't used to stand still for long times.

Sitting, lying, walking, running, swimming and now even climbing – all of that was okay for her feet, but standing in one place, waiting, was horror, no matter what actual horrors she was waiting for to come. Though she was sure it must have been at least one our. Perhaps two – two and a half? She admitted, she had lost track. This was far worse than battling. Waiting for something bad _to_ happen was more cruel than watching something bad happen. At least for her, especially since she was the only being outside. Even the few windows were dark. So dark, she had difficulties seeing her own reflection in the nearest. But it was her fault. He had warned her, still she had insisted.

~~#~~

Dreamily he gazed up, lips ajar, his face at the chandelier as he dwelled in a surprisingly remarkable afterglow.

"Damn – ", he aspirated, his eyes fixating the lit candles, blurred by his current condition and therefore glistening like sunlight through the surface of a clear lake.

"Save yer breath, Remus.", Severus moaned, lying almost equally straight, only his knees tucked up and his feet flat on the other man's shirt, trying to not lose the regained control to the urge to strangle the man beside him.

"Damn – ", Remus repeated, fiddling at a specific area and pulled off an object which he then held up above his own face, marvelling at it like he had at the chandelier until then. "Now I know why you wanted to use that! That's a real lot! I never thought – "

"I said, shu' up!", snarled Severus and rolled over, looking at the door with his arms wrapped around his chest.

"Are you sure, you don't want to go for a reversal?", Remus stroked down Severus' scars, but the hand ended up buried under his waist when Severus turned again, his look representing no less than the willingly desired urge he fought now.

"Tha' is no' why I turned me back on ye.", he hissed. "Be 'appy wit' tha one time, ye loon."

"Are you sure, _you_ are happy with one time?", Remus ignored the pressure on his hand and gave Severus stomach a short wink. "Nice mess."

"Ye truly are suicidal."

"Oh come on. You cannot lie to me anymore.", whispered Remus and gave him a little, tender kiss that remained lonely. "You screamed my name, if you haven't noticed and you didn't even touch yourself. No need to lie, Severus, no need."

"Ge' ou'."

"No."

"Return ter yer pos' an' try ter survive yer watch."

"Tz. Those constant threats of yours don't impress me. They don't fit the moaning you just presented me with."

"Leave."

"You don't throw me out, Severus Snape. Not tonight."

But he was wrong. Severus was on his feet and pulled Remus up faster than he could catch what was going on. The slack condom still sandwiched between his left index finger and thumb, he could hardly hold the heap of clothes that was pressed against his chest. Severus shoved him to the office door which opened automatically as if it was scared to be crushed otherwise and he thrust him face forward into the instantly lighting up corridor.

"Fillin' drops wit' an undetectable Love Potion an' rapin' me – _piss off!_ "

"What?", murmured Remus.

"Even though I couldn' figh' it, I know tha effec', ye crank!"

"Love Potion? What?", Remus moaned seriously. "But Albus gave me those – I – I had no idea – "

There was a short silence in which Severus only panted at him like a mad dragon, digging his fingers into the doorframe so the wouldn't rush off at the Werewolf's throat. Remus stared back, as miserable looking as the other felt.

"Albus.", Severus aspirated with disbelief, scanning Remus' mind, unfortunately finding the truth.

"Yes."

"Lemon – tha' man's dead. 'E's _so_ dead, I swear.", snorted Severus, turned and slammed the door shut.

Dumbfounded, Remus stared at the door, behind which Severus leaned against the wood, clawing his long black hair. Severus closed his eyes and a quiet chuckle escaped him. He wasn't even sure whether it was a cry or a laugh. Maybe both.

~~#~~

Thoughts spun round in her mind. Memories jumping, from one to another. The last six years rolled down before her eyes. So much time. So many things had happened. What would it be like when Dumbledore was gone? Severus was Headmaster. But still he would have to act like a Death Eater, just to keep the illusion intact. How would he protect the students without letting slip through that he was the good one? How would it be like, being on the search for the remaining Horcruxes? How would –

Popping noises. She rushed from her thoughts. Finally – the terror struck her with full force. People dressed in black, walking towards her. She knew the names of some: the older Carrow twins, a grim man with tied back blond hair called Yaxley who was working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry, another tall blond she had seen when Malfoy had examined the cabinet, a masked one and to coronate her horror, Bellatrix Lestrange and the most feared Werewolf Fenrir Greyback.

"Ahaha!", Bellatrix's high pitched laughter echoed through the abandoned alley, ringing in Hermione's ears. "Look who we have here! As early as usual when it's time for a little fun! Long time no see, Isabel!", Hermione gave her a single slow nod, hoping she was doing the right. "And as quiet as always! Ha! Some things will never change, is it?"

Hermione gently stepped aside and pointed Mullbridge's wand at the lock, glad that it clicked immediately. A faint wave and the door slowly swung open.

"Thank you, sweetie!", Bellatrix grinned, baring teeth that could easily make the worst nightmare of Hermione's parents – or the best paid job, if they would survive it. "Why don't you come in with us and lionise Draco's masterpiece?"

With a flick of her wand, Bellatrix lit the chandelier. Hermione checked the alley once more and entered the shop, while Greyback had already opened the doors of the high dark cabinet in the middle. She didn't dare to look around. Some of the objects in her sight were sufficient for another ten nightmares. The cabinet was big enough for all of them to fit in. Bellatrix went in last, giving her a complacent sneer. If it wasn't for what this woman was capable of, she would have sounded like the most cheerful best comrade.

"Bye-bye!" she cackled and pulled the doors shut from inside.

There was a noise as though the recorded sound of a mug being pushed over a table was played backwards. Then, silence. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped towards the large furniture. She pressed down the old silver handle and carefully opened the door. The cabinet was empty. For some seconds she just stared inside, not believing that it had worked out so smoothly and quick, but considering the goal, she now would have fancied a little delay to keep her busy and the ultimate event further in future.

But as there was no possible way back, she composed herself, swiftly went for the front door, casting one and the same spell three times, through the lanes and over the roofs. No one was out. She hurried back in, dropped Mullbridge's wand, gave the candles a wave with her own and changed clothes in darkness. Carefully, she put down the crystal inside the cabinet. In the dark surrounding, it looked like it glowed. But only a wee bit. Now she laid the bone on the floor, pointed her own wand at it and fully dressed the corpse, sticking the Death Eater's wand into the limp hand, ignoring her disgust.

Another safety glance through the window front and open door. Taking a deep breath, she directed her wand at the small orange crystal in the cabinet. A tiny spark. Instantly, it glowed like a bright lantern. Hermione rushed outside, slammed the door shut behind and Disapparated in the second a heavy, fiery explosion burst away the windows, walls and roofs around the Vanishing Cabinet, bewitched objects flying all around as they were set on fire and a speeding, spinning silver handle disappeared in the night.

Panting, she leant against the back wall of Honeydukes with her thoughts still rotating. Another deep breath and she snuck around the shop, gladly finding the village deserted. The only lights in the dark were those in the Three Broomsticks further away. She unlocked the door of the sweetshop, scurried inside and locked again. As fast as possible she tiptoed down to the entrance of the passageway in the cellar.

Arriving breathless at the other side, she peered out. No one in sight. Relieved, she stepped out and – startled with a shriek she could only just muffle by clapping her hand on her mouth. While the statue moved over the hole, she stared at Luna's bright grin, her fair hair and pale face shining like a ghost in the dim light.

"What are _you_ doing here?", Hermione whispered.

"Patrolling. Ron has called us with the coins and I thought I might watch that specific entrance since it is most common for the few of us to use."

"Great.", aspirated Hermione.

"Are there actually Death Eaters coming?"

"Yes. Luna – please swear to me – no one must know this."

"Okay. I'm as silent as a dead Snorkack."

"Thank you.", a sigh left Hermione, though in regard of Luna's absent smile, it was, as usual, hard to tell whether she understood the importance.

"Any time."

"The Death Eaters arrived through a Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. Severus had just sent me to its twin in Borgin and Burkes to destroy it so the passage won't exist anymore. Something will happen tonight, Luna. Dumbledore will die."

"Oh that's sad,", it seriously bothered Hermione now that Luna seemed so untouched by this.

"Now listen closely. Severus will kill him. It is actually Draco Malfoy's job to do it. That's why the Death Eaters are here. They are here to help him. But it must be Severus to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore is already dying from a curse he'd caught himself. By killing him, Severus will not only spare him from a horrible death, but also prevent Malfoy from becoming a killer. You understand?"

"Sounds logical."

"Listen, Luna. That will be our secret. Harry, Ron and I will leave Hogwarts and go on a journey to obtain objects that will be our only chance to kill Voldemort. Luna. Ginny knows that Severus is innocent. I told her that, whatever happens, it's all part of Dumbledore's plan. You may tell her what I just told you now, but you must keep it secret by all means. You must _act_ like you have no knowledge of this."

"Who else knows?"

"Only Ginny."

"Alright.", Luna smiled.

"Thank you. We should – "

"Go down to Professor Snape's office?"

"That – ", Hermione pondered for a second, "That's a great idea. Yes. Come on."

Shortcuts were the most profitable invention in situations like theirs. So they found themselves, unsighted, in the Entrance Hall in no time. As though some higher power wanted it, right in that moment Flitwick sent his choir to bed and engaged the Aurors at the doors in an exhausted conversation. They used the distraction to slip around the main stairs and to the spiral staircase. Halfway down, they increased speed and ran through the corridor, even faster than the blue torches could light up. Slowing down, they reached Severus' office and came to halt right in front of the door.

"Has anyone told you about the Felix Felicis?", Hermione remembered.

"The lucky potion? Ron has given it to Ginny so she could drink it when they would come. He thought, she would be a little cleverer to do the right things to save us all."

"That's wonderful."

Indeed, she thought and wondered for a second if it had already affected Flitwick or the Aurors. She just raised her fist for knocking when –

"DEATH EATERS! DEATH EATERS IN THE CASTLE!"

A small figure hurried down the blue lit corridor. Flitwick, running as fast as his small legs could carry him, almost collided with them when he waved his wand for opening the not locked door.

"SEVERUS! HELP! HELP US! YOU KNOW BEST HOW TO – "

There was only a red flash and Flitwick collapsed, his head hitting the stone floor heavily. In the doorframe, Luna peeking past her, she looked over to where he stood, fully dressed, the long black wand in his right hand. Bewildered for a moment, he though composed himself then.

"Severus – you – have packed?", Hermione frowned, her gaze wandering around in the empty office, only the furniture left and the fixed fake-book in the shelf-door.

"I don't think I will be needing this place any longer. I assume, you succeeded?"

"Yes.", his eyes flung on Luna. "She knows the basics of the plan now. Ginny's got Felix Felicis.", nodding, he looked at her again.

"Get in, please.", the girls stepped a little inside. "Stay here. Watch him. Make sure, he doesn't wake up until the castle is safe.", he went towards Hermione, stopping only a foot away from her. "Stay here. No matter what happens. I will send you a Patronus when – it's done and over. Don't go looking for me."

"Alright. Um, Severus?"

He only looked at her for another couple of seconds. Then he took her in his arms, holding her gently, just like a father would do. Stroking her back a little, he let go though after only a few seconds.

"Go home. Try to be careful. Both of you. Luna, if Hogwarts still stands then, return for the next term. I need people like you around. Hermione, you will hear from me. I promise.", a smile, tired, but confident.

Having said all that was necessary, he ran out of the room, leaving the two alone with Flitwick still lying unconscious on the floor. Hermione closed the door, staring down on the motionless body. They would be fine. They had Felix Felicis. They would be alright.

"Hermione?", she startled. "Do you know why he left this book?"

"It's fake. The private rooms are behind the shelf.", there was no need to hide it from her.

"Do you think I may take a look inside?"

"It's probably as empty as the office now. But yeah – if you feel like it – ", Hermione sighed, watching Luna walking over and pulling out the book.

There was a familiar quiet rattling and the door swung open, revealing a dark room. Hermione followed her, giving the chandelier a lighting flick. The chamber was as empty as expected. Only the furniture – and white sheets on the bed were still there. Her stomach crumpled. Tender hands gliding over her skin. A warm breath against her face. Soft lips kissing hers.

"Where does this door lead?", Luna called into her thoughts.

"The bathroom.", she didn't take her weary eyes off the bed when Luna went for the wooden door, opening it. "Now that's interesting. You think he put that here purposely?"

That finally tore Hermione from her memories. Luna had given the little lamp in the bathroom a snap of her own wand and pointed on something on the otherwise empty shelf next to the basin. Slowly she walked to her and stared at the small flat object. He had written across the wrapping. Her hand trembling, Hermione picked it up and read.

 _For those in need.._

"That is chocolate, right?"

"Dark chocolate with spearmint filling.", Hermione whispered, curling her lips, not able to hold back tears. "Against fear."

"He expects us to meet Dementors?"

Hermione didn't answer that. The bar of chocolate in her left hand, her arms fell to her sides. Her eyes not seeing the basin they were on, she broke into tears. Luna took her right hand, which could barely hold the wand.

"He'll be fine, Hermione.", she said softly. "He's a powerful wizard."

Looking over to the shower, Hermione felt her own fingers enclosing parts of Luna's unintentionally, her view blurred with tears and shaking in front of her due to her weeping. The noises of the battle far away upstairs, didn't reach them. The silence in the bathroom was only broken by Hermione's wordless crying. The memory connected with the shower was too much for her. She wanted to lock it out, shove it away by not looking at that corner, but it filled her entire body. Trying not to think of his touch, she gazed at the white tiles around the basin for some minutes.

There was the blustering sound of huge masses of glass breaking, followed by a not less loud high pitched laugh that echoed all through the part of the castle. Whatever Bellatrix Lestrange had done, there was no possibility it could look pleasant. But it felt just like what was going on inside her. It felt as if her heart was imploding. Staring into the mirror, she expected blood running from her eyes instead of tears. Not willing to see it if it should really happen, she searched for a point to look at, finding it to be her shoes.

She didn't notice the blue and white shimmering light floating towards them through the bedroom. Like swimming in water, the otter drifted over Hermione's shoulder, making her startle. Looking at her with those shiny eyes of light, it stayed in front of her face for some seconds. Then it shortly nuzzled her and collapsed to glowing fog as it vanished into thin air.

Pulling Luna with her, Hermione fell to her knees, crying louder than ever before in her life. The other girl put her arms around her, a single tear running over the right cheek of her empty face.

~~#~~

Hot and bright, the summer sun burnt on their heads as they stood together, tears dried and looked over the lake. Harry was still clutching the fake locket in his white hand. In the distance, an even whiter tomb. Everything felt so untrue – like a dream – or rather, a nightmare. Like the tomb was only existing in their heads. But it was there. Hagrid and Grawp were still sitting on their huge chairs. Almost everyone else was gone. The train would leave in half an hour. All trunks were packed and now brought down to Hogsmeade. Gazing into distance made the hole burnt in their hearts grow bigger.

For a moment, Hermione could have sworn to hear his voice whispering three words. Instinctively, she rushed around, only to find Luna standing six feet behind them, still in her dress robes as well. In her hand, a wrapped bar of chocolate. Alarmed, Harry and Ron turned as well.

"You forgot that.", she had said, holding the chocolate towards Hermione. "It would be too bad, wouldn't it?"

"Oh my god – ", Hermione aspirated and dropped the bar in her bag. "Thank you so much. How could I – "

"It's alright. I would have taken care of it until we met again."

"Was that chocolate?", Ron chuckled, sniffing a little.

"Yes.", was all Hermione could say.

"I have had a chat with the teachers.", Luna carried on. "They won't close Hogwarts."

"That's a little relief.", Harry meant, though a bit absentminded, naturally.

"Great.", Hermione added, sighing hollow. "So you know what to do.", the guys looked at her. "You and Ginny."

"Yes. We will stand guard. Unfortunately Neville's gone down already. But I think he will return as well.", Hermione nodded confirming. "You know, Scrimgeour looks dreadful. A little scared, I think."

"Who wouldn't.", smirked Hermione.

"Yes. I hope he can hold the Ministry. It would be awful. All those people working there – if the Ministry wasn't a safe place anymore – just imagine. Everyone would have to hide at Hogwarts. I mean, the castle is big, but still.", that gave the other three an unexpected laugh.

"Great one, Luna.", Harry calmed with a limp chuckle.

"It's true, isn't it?", Luna smiled. "I will be going too, then. Try not to miss the train. What would people say if you landed outside Kings Cross Station on Thestrals, you know?"

"The Obliviator Headquarters will have a lot of work in that case.", Hermione smiled. "See you. And – remember the rules, Luna."

"Of course. See you!", she beamed and hopped away, her blond hair and blue robe popping up and down, shimmering fairylike in the sun.

"What was that?", murmured Ron. "You think the DA – "

"Might be more necessary than ever. I – just – have a feeling."

~~#~~

Dim light fell through the tall, dirty windows. No one had meant to clean them. Dust all around. On the floor, the tables, even the chairs. Fire was crackling in the chimney of the huge old hall, supported by elegant marble pillars. But the flames couldn't give the cold house any warmth, even though it was summer and the sunlight falling in issued from a bright, cloudless midday.

Her eyes empty, a woman with blond hair sat artificially straight in a black leather armchair in front of the fireplace, her pale face lit orange. She was as neat as the house. As lonely as the house. In another armchair, to her right, her seventeen year old tall boy, dressed in black like her, his hair uncombed. Leant forward, his face was buried in his hands. There was a third armchair. In this one, his long, equally blond hair cut carelessly like never before, rested a tall man: the boy's father. Grey eyes staring into the fire like his wife's blue gems. Stubbles had grown on his chin and his black robe was the only thing that reminded of his former pride. A black walking stick with a silver snake head laid on the carpet under the armchairs. He had dropped it there, unwilling to hold it or lean it to anything.

Family idyll.

This was war. This was the silence away from the battlefields. Away from the disappearing people. Away from the murders, so far. But not away from fear. Just days ago, Lucius Malfoy had returned from Azkaban. Freed along with some other Death Eaters. But besides being with his family again, the cold empty manor made no difference to the tight cell in the prison, guarded by the happiness- and warmth-sucking Dementors.

A noise.

Narcissa startled. Draco raised his head, revealing his pale skin glistening with tears. Lucius though, just slightly moved his head, gazing at the wall's wood panelling now, pricking up his ears. Quiet footsteps.

His long black cloak curling over the broad dusty stairs, a man climbed up to the hall, his expression not differing much from the Malfoys'. Only when he turned around the corner and through the high door into the hall, the emptiness stepped aside a little, but for nothing than sadness as he saw them sitting there. He stopped for a moment before he approached Lucius who tried to stand up. Weak-kneed, he shuffled around the armchair, holding to its backrest. The moment he let go of it, his legs gave in. But Severus was fast enough. With a few quick steps, he reached under Lucius' arms, catching the emaciated man. Something like gratitude on his face, he hung himself onto Severus' shoulders, comforted by a brotherly embrace and tears falling from his swollen eyes.

Still sitting straight, Narcissa escaped a relieved sigh when Severus shortly closed his own dark eyes, leaning his left cheek against Lucius' head.

"S-Severus – ", Lucius whined quietly, his whole body trembling.

"Sh.", the other man whispered, trying to calm him by pulling him a little closer. "It's all right. You are safe.", his left hand now rested on the back of Lucius' head. "You are safe, my friend. I am here."

A faint, shaky nod from Lucius. Narcissa had gotten up and walked over to them, very slow, almost gliding.

"Are the rumours true?", she said calmly and quiet, her hand laid on Severus right shoulder. "That he is dead?"

"Yes."

"Is it true, what Draco says? That you did it?"

"Yes.", only then, her tension fell off.

"Thank you."

"T-thank you – S-Sev-verus.", Lucius aspirated. "T-thank you f-for s-saving – our son."

"It was the least I could do. Listen.", he lightly pushed Lucius off, still holding him. "You need to rest. You need to gain strength. All three of you. If you want, I can give you some Sleeping Potion. The hard times are still ahead.", Lucius nodded, shedding more tears. "Have you eaten something?"

"Not much.", Narcissa said. "I endeavour myself to cook, but almost everything I touch goes terribly wrong these days. So mostly, it is just snacks."

"All right. Bring Lucius to the kitchen. I'd like to have a word with Draco. No worries, it won't take long. Then I cook you something."

"You.", Lucius chuckled flabbily. "Can cook."

"How else would you expect me to survive summer breaks?", Severus smiled. "Now go. I will be there in a minute."

He passed Lucius to Narcissa, who supported him out. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to their son and sat down on Narcissa's armchair, leaning onto his thighs, only looking at the crooked figure for some moments.

"Draco – "

"I'm fine.", the boy just moaned.

"No."

"I said I'm – "

"I want you to listen to me. I do not intend asking you questions concerning your state, mood or feelings, because I know all that."

"You don't know anything."

"Oh believe me, I _do_ know what you feel like."

"You don't.", he remained consistent.

"I – can see everything in your eyes, Draco.", Severus sighed. "Though if you want to talk about anything – and if it is just Quidditch – "

"Tz. Why should I want to talk about Quidditch with you, Sir.", he murmured turning to the fire.

"I don't know – maybe – for distraction? After all, I played Quidditch myself and I remember you used to be quite fond of it as well.", Severus noted. "And there is no need for calling me `Sir´, unless we are back at Hogwarts."

"What makes you think I'd want to go back?"

"Then there is no need at all to address me like this. I understand if you would like to stay with your parents. I'd spend time with my mother as well, if she was still alive.", Draco's head soared back to him.

"You played Quidditch? At Hogwarts?"

"Yes. For five years."

"What was your position?"

"Seeker."

"Really?", Draco sat up, obviously convinced of the topic. "Did you like it?"

"I loved it.", he leant back and crossed his legs. "Despite the Quaffle-Canon number one."

"A Chaser attacked you with the Quaffle?"

"Constantly."

"I suppose, he was from Gryffindor?", Draco chuckled.

"Exactly. A nasty beast."

"Yeah. They can be horror. Have you ever won the cup?"

"Thanks to him – and probably because I used to be a gallant – ah – sycophant – only once.", Severus sighed, blinking at the memory of how many times he had just let Lily have the Snitch and how many of those times she had yelled at him, not only during the chase over the loud pitch, but long afterwards and he had not only once defended himself with the excuse that there had been no need for her to catch it on the offer. "He had a talent for hitting me in ways it was not illegal at all. Because, of course, it were _only accidents_."

"That's the worst sort.", a very haunting look from Severus hit the boy and he tried a miserable attempt to lighten up the weight of his harsh words. "Okay – there were such people in my team too. But it's different when it's against others.", he smirked desperately.

"Much different, yes."

"And you – er – still – _loved_ it?"

"Strangely, yes.", and that was not only due to having shared the activity with Lily.

"You mentioned your mother – how was she?"

"A wonderful woman. One of the most talented witches I ever got to know. She taught me everything I needed to survive, both physically and emotionally."

"Yeah. That's what mothers do.", Draco chuckled again, his eyes drifting over to the fire once more. "I couldn't imagine what – what it would be like – if my parents were – "

"Naturally. No one knows until the moment comes. And it takes a long time to accept the fact. But the best cure for loss is to think of the good things you shared.", Draco nodded.

"What will you cook?"

"Ready for a surprise?"

"Father and I eat everything, but Mother's vegetarian."

"I know,"

"Of course."

"And neither is a problem for me. Come, Draco. We shouldn't let them alone. If you wish, I can stay overnight. I know your parents will be fine with it, so it is on you."

"That – ", he considered for a moment, his eyes still on the fire. "That would be great. One more person makes that house less empty, right?"

"Far less empty.", Severus smiled.

~~#~~


	37. Chapter 36 - Gatecrashing

– Chapter 36 –

 **Gatecrashing**

It was a hot afternoon, just like those ordinary ones in the last two summers. A father was sitting in the living room, reading a newspaper. Every now and then he would shake out his shirt for relief. The fan did a good work, but he had to turn it to a different direction so he could read without pages flying around his head. The mother stood in the kitchen, just having started to prepare early supper.

"I'm in the shower, Mum!", their daughter called from upstairs.

"Just don't take too long, dear. We'll be having supper in some minutes!", the woman replied, wiping a loose strand of her dark brown curls behind her ear.

"Hopefully nothing too warm!"

"Just some salad!"

"Fine!"

She closed the bathroom door behind, dropped her fresh clothes on a stool and undressed. The other clothes went directly into the basket. She had cleaned up her room for an hour now, leaving her covered in sweat.

The clear water felt wonderful. It was like washing off every tiny bit of – she sighed, putting shampoo in her hair. The massage felt as relieving on her scalp. Trying not to drift off with her thoughts, she concentrated on washing alone. These days she was thinking too much anyway. Shaving had also never been more pleasant.

Some minutes later, she got out of the shower, towelled herself. Then she put on the fresh clothes: underpants, light yellow shorts and a lilac strappy top. Her hair wrapped in a light blue towel, she went back too her light room. She picked her wand from her desk, removed the towel and threw her hair over, drying hot air flowing from the tip of the wand.

Downstairs, the bell rang.

"Darling, would you answer please?", the woman asked.

"Yes."

He put down the newspaper, stood up an went for the door. It was ringing again. Before answering at last, he straightened his shirt, took a deep breath and opened the door swiftly. A man in his size stood outside, being the only person in the street, the left hand on the doorframe, the other hooked to his pocket with the thumb. His distinctive face was rather pale and he was wearing a clean, long-sleeved white shirt and black trousers. The bushy shoulder-length hair was as piceous as his trousers and shoes. Framing his dark eyes, a hint of purposely blurred black eyeliner. His lips formed a faint smile.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Mr Granger?"

"Yes?", the stranger straightened from his lazy pose and offered him his hand.

"Professor Severus Snape, former teacher and now Headmaster of Hogwarts.", Mr Granger shook his hand, a little fascinated to have the Headmaster of his daughter's school standing in front of their door, not really resembling the wizards he had met in Diagon Alley, but more looking like a young Muggle man, probably a musician meaning to apply for a different job.

"Oh where are my manners – ", he aspirated. "Please do come in, Professor."

"Thank you.", they both stepped in, Severus closing the door behind, not without a security glance outside and an unseen tap on the door, the change however noticed by the girl upstairs, whose head instantly jolted up from and article her eyes had gotten caught on while still drying her hair, even before her father could –

"Hermione – it's for you! One of your teachers!"

Startled, she threw her hair back, looking like a lion now. A little confused about what a teacher could want from her and what had caused the barely catchable humming and the feeling of being trapped under a glass bowl that had been turned upside down, she checked whether her hair was fully dry.

"Coming, Dad!", she replied, though not without a hint of panic.

"So, what brings you here? Hermione said she won't go back to school. Is that the reason?"

"One of it. But you will hear soon enough, Sir."

"Uh well,", Mr Granger lightly blushed at the compellation, but decided to not speak further in case he might sound impolite if asking to be addressed less formally.

Barefoot, Hermione walked over the carpeted floor in the short corridor. When she reached the stairs, her heart sunk. Standing there for some seconds, she just stared at him. Then she scuttled down the first steps. Though something alarmed her again. In the middle of the staircase she stopped. Curling her lips, she raised her hand and pointed her wand at his chest.

"Hermione!", her father gasped.

"It is all perfectly right.", Severus smirked, waving him off. "I see, Remus had some influence on you.", fighting with herself, she asked the question to make it easier for him not to reveal too troubling information – she hoped, but knew the moment she started speaking, it was probably the worst she could have chosen.

"When we were in the library and you made a joke about You-Know-Who and death – what was my reply?", he laughed.

"Now that is a nasty question to ask. Or have you told them already?", she bit her lower lip, but clutched her wand tight, her eyes narrowing with forced severity.

" _What was my reply?_ ", she hissed.

"` _Then throw me into your bed and stopper death already_ ´. Yet, were I another Legilimens of my level, you could just as well have used that article upstairs to gag me, _if_ you were quick enough to suffocate me before I'd kill you. _You_ , are leaking like a fifty year old sock bound to a tap for preventing _that_ one's leaking."

Panting, she lowered her wand. A second later, she had hurtled over the last steps and flung her arms around his neck, squinting her eyes as tight as she embraced him. That jump made him stagger back halfway to the closed door. A happy smile on his lips, he laid his arms around her, holding her tight as well.

"Do you always treat your teachers like this?", Hermione's father chuckled, causing her to let go.

"You said I'd hear from you – I – I didn't expect – "

"Why not?"

"I don't know.", she sniggered, lowering her head and yelped. "Oh my god – what – "

"Oh that.", his trousers were torn straight down from his knees. "I was lucky I didn't fall over."

"What?", Hermione moaned, looking back up.

"Let me say, I was a little clumsy."

"Clumsy? You're not – ", she bent a little, examining his legs. "You're bleeding!"

"Really?", he pulled an awkward grimace. "What a surprise."

"Come on."

She reached under his shoulder, supporting him into the living room where he sat down on the armchair her father had relaxed on earlier. Suddenly, out of nowhere, as though he had learned to Apparate, Crookshanks was there. He hopped onto his lap with ease, but after he had received a few greeting strokes through his bushy fur in return for the purring, he jumped back off on Severus' softly whispered words.

"Ye fergive me, bu' I need ter move a bi' fer some minutes."

"Oh my goodness!", Mrs Granger had come in after the cat to see who their visitor was. "Who is this?"

"One of Hermione's teachers. Oh – and headmaster now, sorry."

"Yes.", said both.

"Severus Snape.", he smiled softly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Granger."

"Holy cricket!", Hermione moaned sitting on the floor next to Crookshanks, having lifted the torn fabric up to his knees which were bleeding as well. "That looks horrible! What by all means happened?"

"As I said, I was clumsy."

"That does really look bad.", Mrs Granger said. "I will get the first-aid kit."

"Mum!", Hermione's head rushed around. "He's Potions Master! There's no need for that rubbish!"

"Rubbish?", she aspirated.

"Rubbish.", Severus said, having already opened the upper buttons of his shirt and pulled out the notorious pouch. "You heard your daughter. Now – you too, Hermione. Get up, honestly."

"Sorry.", she blushed and sat herself on the sofa to the right, failing at making Crookshanks follow her; her parents stared at the black wand Severus had pulled from his sleeve.

"Interesting choice of shampoo, if I may say.", he enlarged the pouch and summoned a tiny bottle filled with an almost clear liquid and a big glass containing a number of plants; Hermione recognised them to be Dittany.

"Oh shut up.", with a self-satisfied smile he placed the glass on the table circled by the armchairs, the sofa, the television and the fan that stopped blowing right then, which didn't fail to catch the attention of Hermione and her mother.

"What is that?", Mr Granger asked and sat down to Hermione's right, joined by his wife, who frowned at the fan.

"Nothing to be found in books. Horace would forget what I did if he saw that and Poppy would not stop kissing me.", the two looked a bit confused, but Hermione explained.

"In short, either something extremely difficult and hard to brew or – your own creation?"

"Both.", Severus said, dripping the liquid over the cuts, making them heal instantly to great surprise of Hermione's parents and even a little herself; yet the scars from Fluffy's warning remained. "It is almost as powerful as phoenix tears. The only lack, it can not heal poisoned or cursed wounds and – ", he sighed, "You know which spell, Hermione. It took me quite a time to fix the details and still it doesn't heal my own madness."

"Interesting that you invent spells like that without finding a cure before you write them into a book which you are clever enough to forget until you hand the book over to your nosy son.", she murmured. "Who was _clever_ enough to attack someone with it."

"Not resentful, of course,", he raised an eyebrow, put the bottle back, shrunk the pouch and let it slip under his shirt again.

"No. I can't say that often enough. You could have killed yourself, if – sure. You _did_ invent a spell that heals those wounds."

"Exactly. Unfortunately it only works on other people but not if you want to heal yourself. And interesting that you say I could have – "

"Well, I can count two and two together, can't I?"

"Naturally. I am still grateful for the five hundred Galleons."

"Two hundred and fifty."

"Pardon?"

"Well, actually it was half my achievement, not?"

"No, you just gave it a spark. And the money's gone."

"Gone?", Hermione's brows narrowed. "How can you spend five hundred Galleons in only a few months?"

"Months? Minutes, rather. Because, sometimes I am honest enough to not confund every single salesman who's got something I need,"

"Five hundred, Severus,"

"Do you really expect me to disclose my accountancy to you? I had some serious, necessary expenses and the money came in the nick – "

"But – "

"You know exactly that I am not the kind of person who tosses their money out of the window,", he hissed, the annoyance becoming anger. "If I say I was glad to having received that money, then I badly needed it so as to not having to confund people. No matter what numbers you have in mind, my salary was ever just enough to pay the rent, overheads etcetera – "

"What?", Hermione murmured. "For – _excuse me_? You pay – for – a flat you use – like what? Two months a year?", she could hardly believe that he was actually doing that. "I'd rather confund that landlord and buy everything else normally,"

"I thought you wouldn't – "

"What? Understand? Well, surprise, that's ridiculous."

"I have my reasons.", Severus said tersely.

"Of course you have. You'd rather prey upon a hundred wizards before you'd confund one Muggle landlord. Charming."

"We are neither related, nor married. I don't have to answer to you.", his tone was so grim, she suddenly feared that, despite her own anger, she might actually drive him to break up with her if she didn't stop.

"Did it hurt a lot when Harry hit him?"

"You don't want to know.", Severus sighed, at last mending the trousers with a flick of his wand, making them cover his legs like they had never been damaged.

"So what did you do with your legs?"

"You won't drop it, won't you?", he stuck the wand back up his left sleeve.

"No."

"I misjudged the distance."

"Which distance?"

"I – ", he groaned upon her demanding look and rolled his eyes. "All right – I was a little nervous and accidentally flew too deep before I landed and – ", the last words came in a grumble, "Hit your garden door. Satisfied?"

"You – no.", Hermione couldn't help laughing.

"There she goes,", he mumbled angrily again, crossing his arms and legs and looked away into the lands of annoyance that seemed to lie somewhere not too far beyond the fan.

"Sorry – I – no.", she shook her head, squinting with a big grin. "Sorry.", he curled his lips. "Why were you – ", she calmed down, chuckling. "Nervous?"

"And then you come, asking such a question for the check.", he continued mumbling, though his attention was drawn by Crookshanks who had hopped onto his lap again and rolled in as much as it was possible on the crossed legs.

"Sorry, Severus. I didn't – I couldn't think of anything else."

"Great. That is exactly where I wanted to have you.", he snorted. "Making you unable to think of _anything else_ when you see me."

"No – I – Severus!", she laughed again, but he couldn't avoid a smirk either.

"Odd enough that you are verbally attacking him about his private issues, but how come you address him by his first name?", her father asked.

"Long story.", Hermione giggled. "Um – you forgot the Dittany."

"That is for you. Have fun squeezing.", he sighed, looking back at her.

"Oh. Thank you."

"And please try not to forget to remind me that there are more things I would like to give to you."

"So – what is it that you are here for, Mr Snape?", Mrs Granger asked.

"Yes. It can't only be that you – I'd better not say a thing.", Hermione giggled on.

"Interesting, that you are so easily entertained.", she felt heat rising in her face and knew she would soon be bright red.

"Sorry. You just managed to make me forget – what was that with the mass breakout? I couldn't believe my eyes. It was probably the tiniest article I've ever read in the _Prophet_."

"Well, at least they _mentioned_ it. Scrimgeour is becoming Fudge-ised. The article you read was a leak. Someone must have smuggled it in. The Ministry keeps quiet. They _don't want panic_."

"Oh yes. That sounds familiar.", Hermione huffed. "Luna said that Scrimgeour seems anxious."

"That man is getting cold feet. He once was one of the best Aurors next to Alastor, but since the Dark Lord returned again, he is at a constant loss of confidence. Even his cousin has got more guts. However, he is still a far better leader than Fudge. You know what he had been like when I gave him the list.", Hermione nodded. "You should have seen his eyes. ` _Is that really happening? Do you actually think that the Ministry will fall? Help, Mummy, help!_ ´ Incredible. He has seen a few too many fights.", Severus murmured.

"But he followed your advice, didn't he?"

"Of course. In the last meeting of the Order before – the tower _incident_ , Kingsley had to record more than half of the Muggle-Born employees having left the country."

"That's great. What – what about the students? I mean, you will be – "

"I believed, you paid attention to what I had told him there? The matter had been settled long before Albus' death. They all have gotten their letters by now and were escorted by the same trustworthy people as usual, in safe intervals. The number is rather low this year anyway. That made things easier to conceal. Unless any of them boasts about being Muggle-Born, the plan will work flawless. The Carrows are the biggest wimps at Legilimency. They would not even be able to tell a fake smile if they shouted the spell at someone, digging their wand into that person's temple."

"Carrows?", Hermione moaned.

"It is his wish that I become Headmaster and that they will be my Deputies then."

"No!", it had just slipped her, the malicious faces of the twins passing her memory, right behind Bellatrix Lestrange and the look she received from him was nothing short of a death threat. "Sorry."

"What he does not know, is that there is much more complexity to becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts than being elected. It has to be the current Headmaster to officially appoint his successor and that one's job to find themselves a Deputy, whether it be in a direct conversation or a written letter. There is a strict use of words, different in the cases. If the Headmaster or Headmistress dies before naming their successor, the Deputy follows automatically. It is then in their hands to take the same steps and believe me, I will tell neither Alecto nor Amycus and especially not _him_. Minerva of course, will quite likely get to the point when she notices that her authority has faded. But I cannot risk her life. She is too valuable for the school and each student."

"But the governors – "

"Can make decisions about whom they would like to see in those positions, yet if the school itself does not agree, they will have to, quite frankly, deal with it."

"Wait – there was this – feeling – like an earthquake and a strange sound in my ears when I hurried down to Slughorn's office. Was that when – ", she had nearly forgotten it.

"Yes. I noticed it as well, in the moment I read the words. This is also how the knowledge of the phrase is passed on. The phrase acknowledging that the Deputy is up for choice, is added afterwards."

"But – if the Headmaster dies first _and_ the Deputy as well – how – ", she could guess the answer.

"Then it will be the castle walls speaking to a worthy next Headmaster or Headmistress – and to them alone. And yes, if the governors don't believe it,", he read her expression right, "Let me say, you don't want to know what happened when they tried to install someone other than Albus after Dippet, when Hogwarts simply determined on him. And no, you haven't overlooked that part in your most beloved history book. It was so dramatic, the Obliviators had to be called, so the students; and staff; wouldn't suffer a trauma. I wouldn't have believed it, if Albus hadn't shown me his memory of it."

"Did it end in a funeral, or what?", Hermione chuckled, but immediately regretted it, having to face a quite desperate stare when he clearly considered whether to reveal the information to her parents.

"There was – ", he shortly blinked, then spoke insanely fast, "Nothing really left you could bury unless you carefully scraped it off the walls, ceiling and people in the Great Hall. Mind that it was during the Start-of-Term-Feast and a haunting mix of voices resounded in the hall, only saying that she's not the one."

"She?", Hermione gasped after a few seconds.

"Is that really relevant when who everyone thought would be leading the school, exploded in all directions upon solely meaning to start their speech?", now it was her to stare and blink at him.

"Hogwarts did that."

"Ah – I would say, that was Salazar Slytherin's contribution to the election system.", Severus smirked dolefully, but definite.

"Thought so. Still – ", she gave her parents a short glance, not only to check whether either would need a bucket, " _Why are you here_?", he said nothing but began to stroke Crookshanks with his right hand, the other settling down on the side rest. "Look – staring into my eyes helps me, but not them.", there was no change in his now emotionless gaze. "Severus?"

"Precaution."

"Pre-?", she started laughing again, glad she could.

"What is so funny about it?", her mother asked, confused about Severus closing his eyes with a big grin as well, especially after such a revelation. " _What is so funny?_ ", she repeated, but he just wiped his free hand over his mouth, Hermione watching him with a smirk.

"Honestly now. Can't you tell them or is it only – because – you know – ", he bit his lip, looking at the glass of Dittany.

"I cannot let you leave with Harry in your current state."

"Don't worry, I will _dress properly_ before I go."

"Hermione, I swear!", he buried his face in his left hand. "You do though recall that you yourself stated that I am just a man. That image is forever burnt in my mind, so please! Please try not to reawaken it too often."

"Could you extract your memory of it so I can see what I looked like?"

"No.", he shook his head, his face still covered.

"Oh I get it. You packed your entire office but forgot that Dumbledore's Pensieve might be useful as well."

"What?", he raised his head, his hand loosely held in front of his mouth.

"Rather like you, I did point my wand out of the window and summon books about Horcruxes,", she also crossed her arms and legs, giving him a very conceited look, her wand still in her right hand. "And as I didn't hear any glass smash, Dumbledore must have left a window open. So I practically didn't even steal them."

"Are you really so fond of Bullock's books?", Severus chuckled. "If I knew, I would have requested his entire work."

"You _knew_ these books were in there?"

"Hermione,"

"Sure. You aren't stupid."

"Not at all."

"But stupid enough to crash into our garden door.", she added subdued.

"Now will you – ?", she let out a squeal when he gave the grey cushion on the second armchair a flick of his hand, making it speed directly at her face and her parents jump against the sofa's backrest.

"Hey!", she had caught the cushion, holding it in front of her chest then.

"Not resentful, no.", Severus snorted.

"No.", Hermione wrapped her arms around the soft grey thing, pouting. "I guess, you will still not tell?"

"This information is meant for you alone."

"Okay. Are you hungry? We were about to have supper. Mum, Dad? I hope it's okay – "

"Oh I made far enough.", her mother replied. "Of course you are welcome to eat with us, Sir."

"Thank you for the invitation.", he gave her a nod. "And you may call me Severus as well."

"Miranda."

"And I am Daniel.", he briefly lifted his hand.

"My pleasure."

"I'm Hermione.", she grinned, her lips pressed together.

"My presence really is no benefit for your sanity.", Severus moaned frowning.

"As long as you don't let the trombones play – ", Hermione giggled.

"You do remember every word you ever heard me saying, don't you?"

"Only the intriguing ones."

"Then I suppose, concerning your assessment of verbal importance, I shall never drop a single word in your attendance ever again."

"Well, then _you might just find that my hand slips right over your evening pumpkin juice,_ making you _spill your innermost secrets_ for everyone present."

"That, is scary."

"Harry says that too, sometimes."

"And I do not see the necessity of wasting an illegal potion for obtaining something you can achieve with the simplicity of being yourself.", she could have sworn that his eyes gazed particularly at her freshly washed, curled brown lion-mane; her parents were obviously confused by his statement.

"I guess, we should have supper, before the situation escalates?", Hermione moaned with a tiny last smirk.

"Please, yes.", he murmured. "But I don't need much. A salad would be enough for me."

"No worries.", Mrs Granger, appeased him, though not fully able to drop her confused expression. "I only made us a salad, in fact. It's too hot for anything else these days.", and her eyes zoomed back at the fan that sprang to life, seemingly on its own.

They rose almost simultaneously, Hermione replacing the cushion with the glass of dried Dittany plants and Severus easily lifted the big cat on his arms, though sat him down on the kitchen floor once they had entered. The kitchen was not big, but as light as the rest of the house. There was a white rectangular table in the middle, six white chairs with grey cushions stood around. To their left in the room, the fridge melted with the white furniture.

Mrs Granger added another glass bowl, steel fork and white napkin to the table. Thanking her, he sat down, Hermione to his right, both facing the window. Mr Granger took the seat at the end of the table right next to Hermione, his wife sat herself opposite to their daughter and Crookshanks hopped onto the cupboards to study the whole from the top of the fridge.

"Enjoy your meal, everyone.", they thanked her and started taking from the big bowl in the middle, one after another. "Oh – I forgot – would you like something to drink, Severus?"

"No, thank you.", he gave her a gentle and grateful smile.

"Or you two?"

"Mum."

"Alright."

"So – ", Hermione addressed Severus, "Remus wrote in an encrypted letter that it'll happen next Saturday – "

"Yes. I caught that information as well, unfortunately. This means a lot more trouble."

"Why?"

"Because I take another meeting in account. He surely will want to go everything through again, the sooner, the better – for him of course. My biggest hope is that he holds the meeting too late. Then Harry would be gone. But in case he – "

"You're not going to tell him, are you?", Hermione aspirated, the fork with a leaf and a tomato slice stopping shortly before her open mouth.

"Well, it is better than explaining myself afterwards. He counts on me and that I get first-hand information."

"But he _must_ understand that you cannot get it anymore after Dumbledore's death.", she ate on.

"I am afraid, I have proven my skills too many times. As you see, I did indeed catch the information without anyone noticing it and he knows I can do such. So yes, if he should hold a meeting, I will have to tell him. It will not be easy to defend you all, but better than nothing. After all the Order would have never thought of using Polyjuice Potion if I hadn't told them."

"What? You – you confunded Mundungus? Of course. I knew that couldn't have been his idea. It's much too clever for that dork to come up with,"

"Well, he was the easiest to catch, usually hanging around in Knockturn Alley. And even easier to persuade."

"What is this all about?", Mr Granger asked. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes.", Severus and Hermione said together.

"But I think we should leave that topic now.", Hermione meant.

"Alright.", her mother said. "Now tell us something about you, Severus. You have been her Potions teacher, she said that."

"And Defence Against the Dark Arts.", added Hermione. "This – um – last year."

"And now you have been made Headmaster?"

"Yes."

"But didn't you always say that – what was her name?"

"McGonagall.", Hermione said. "Yes. She would have been next in the row if it hadn't been for the current circumstances."

"So,", Mr Granger joined the conversation, "Dumbledore – is he really – dead?"

"Yes.", Severus sighed.

"He was very old, wasn't he?"

"Hundred and fifteen."

"My goodness! That is really an age to die at.", Mrs Granger chuckled. "What about you? How old are you?"

"Thirty-seven.", it almost shocked Hermione that he told her mother his age so quickly but that she nearly had had to worm it out of his nose.

"Any children? Wait – a son, right?", she shortly looked at her daughter, remembering that quickly slipped bit of information

"Yes.", he smiled sadly.

"How old is he?"

"I just remembered – ", Hermione sang in, "Thank you for the chocolate!"

"You are welcome.", Severus sighed again, notably relieved about her interruption. "Use it well."

"Of course I won't eat it all in one go. It will just find use if we should meet with Dementors."

"That is exactly what I meant it for.", the sarcasm was hard to miss. "Miranda, this salad is really good."

"It's just salad. It's nothing.", she smiled, visibly charmed. "But thank you. I don't want to sound impolite, still I wonder, since you refuse to tell us your reasons, how long will you be staying here?"

"Yes – how long?", Hermione repeated eagerly.

"As long you are comfortable with my presence."

"Oh that – "

"Of course we are!", burst Hermione. "Stay as long as you like to!", a few looks were exchanged and they all had a good laugh.

"Now Hermione – ", her father calmed down. "You must really like him. Of course you may stay, if our daughter wants you to. Though we don't have a guest room and Miranda and I will only be home for breakfast and return at supper time – "

"That does not matter. It is not my intention to disarticulate your house and I can cook as well, so Hermione won't starve at all; and thank you. I really did not expect to be welcomed so openly. After all I was not invited. Regarding the room, I will be fine with the sofa."

"Balderdash.", Hermione snorted but was silenced with a quick glance of his.

"Do you want to have him sharing your room or what, dear?", her mother chuckled, making Hermione blush heavily. "Unless he can conjure a bed that fits in there, I don't see a way."

"There is always a way.", Hermione whispered to her salad.

"Shu' up or tell 'em tha truth.", Severus mumbled through his closed teeth.

"Why don't _you_?", she did the same.

" _Ye_ are 'eir daughter,"

"And you are – you know what."

"What is this that you are discussing there?"

"Nothing, Mum.", Hermione curled her lips and ate on.

"Fine. But I can't assure you that the sofa will be comfortable."

"As a child, I used to sleep on roofs in summer. I think, the sofa will be comfortable enough for me."

"You also _slept_ up there?", Hermione startled.

"Yes. Many nights.", this time, his smile was an amused one.

"Why?", Mrs Granger asked.

"I liked it.", he said casually. "The stars above – the soft breeze – I was free."

"Oh confess, you badly wanted that tower office.", smirked Hermione.

"Interesting that you suddenly can make jokes about it. While he was still alive, you cried each time the topic fell."

"I suppose, that's that _wicked happy, happy life_.", she shrugged, swallowing not only her salad. "I think, your Patronus and the funeral did the rest. I mean – I didn't know him at all, did I?", her expression changed rapidly. "Even Harry cried."

"He wouldn't be his parents' son if the death of someone so significant for him didn't touch him."

"On the train he told us that he really had to avoid laughing during the speech. He said that suddenly memories were flooding him – like our first evening in Hogwarts – or their conversation in the Hospital Wing at the end of that year – or, well, he named various things that gave him the urge to laugh, thinking he'd gone mad. And then, he said, he suddenly started crying – and – ", Hermione curled her lips once more, her eyes getting glossy, "Couldn't stop – and – ", the girl avoided any eye contact, feeling Severus' right hand taking her left which laid on the table. "Oh damn it.", she moaned. "Let me make jokes about it, okay?"

"We were discussing Horcruxes every now and then, as you might know. Once he repeated that it was really essential that it was me to do it so the Dark Lord would have full trust.", trembling, she looked up to him. "Because then we might have something in common at last.", Hermione dropped her head with a sympathetic smile at his wink.

"A murder that would really rip your soul apart.", she muttered subdued and closed her fingers around his.

"Actually he said, `` _the pleasure of dispatching a four-eyes at Hogwarts_ _with something green_ ´´. Hermione. He was prepared.", Severus smiled softly.

"I know.", she sighed. "Just – try to survive as long as possible, yes?", their eyes met.

Severus only held her hand a little tighter, Hermione returned his gesture. Twice stroking the back of her hand with his thumb he let go then, wanting to continue eating, but noticed that he was actually done already. With interest, he looked into the big bowl, finding it to be as empty.

"It seems, we reached the bottom.", he chuckled ironically.

"Oh.", Hermione's parents noticed too now, that their own bowls contained nothing but vinegar; only Hermione herself had a bit left.

"Here.", she pushed the bowl over to him.

"Don't – it is yours."

"No. It's alright. I've had enough."

Giving her a concerned look, he ate up her rest with a sigh. Right when he was done, she got up and cleaned the table, watched with more interest. After that, not dropping a single word, she left the kitchen for her room.

"Hermione – ", her mother called after, but in vain.

"I'll do that.", Severus calmed her and followed the girl upstairs.

She had closed her room behind. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked four times. There was no answer. Carefully, he pushed down the handle and peered inside. Twilight bathed the white and lilac room in a dim light. There were some white shelves filled with books of all sorts, a white desk under the window, lilac curtains. A notice board with photos, postcards and news articles on the wall. Some drawings of flowers. A light blue armchair. At the door's right, she laid on the bed, turned to the window, huddled up. Very slow, he sat down at her back and placed his left hand on her shoulder.

Hermione shuddered by the touch of his warm fingers. They wandered up to her hair, stroked her head gently. Sobbing quiet, she shut her eyes. With a glance at the still half opened door, he found her mother standing outside, her fist short before the wood. Seeing that he had noticed her, she lowered her hand, staring from one to the other, a mix of confusion and sadness on her face.

Severus pulled his wand, swung it a little and a soft shimmer of silvery white and blue came from its tip, transforming into an otter. Amazed, Mrs Granger watched the animal of light swim through the air. Hermione opened her eyes, following the shine. The otter settled down on the bed in front of her, rolled onto its back. A quiet chuckle escaped her when the Patronus rolled on its feet again, moved closer and nuzzled her. When she raised her hand, wanting to touch it, a smile drifted onto Severus' lips. He took his hand off her hair and caught hers as it was about to fall through the light.

She slightly sat up, her head turning after the otter which swam through the room once more, her fingers embraced by Severus'. The otter dove around them, over Hermione's right shoulder and sat down on it. When she moved her eyes from it to Severus, the light vanished. But there was no sadness in those eyes anymore. The Patronus had made it all disappear. _He_ had made it all disappear.

Hermione picked up her own wand from her pillow and made his hair move behind his left ear. Another gentle flick and a dark purple flower appeared at it. He cautiously took it. The flower resting on his right palm now, was a lily. Severus threw it up, waved his wand a little more and it became a lilac and white chrysanthemum, its petals unfolding as it sank to the bed. Hermione took it with her wand-hand as well, inhaling its scent. She sighed when it collapsed to hundreds of soft white sparks, trickling through her fingers into nowhere.

"I won't say don't cry when I myself am incapable of restraint every once in a while. It would be foolish of me to ask something from you, neither I can do. But don't pity the dead. Pity the living as they are to cope with the holes in their lives. Pity those who are _not willing_ to cope with these holes and transform it into anger which they wreak on the innocent. And thank the dead for having been granted to walk with them. If you can, do it before they are gone."

"I think, this room might be big enough for another person.", Miranda said. "Hermione never had a visitor. None of her friends had come to see us. It has always been her to go visit – those Weasleys only.", the woman sighed. "From what I've seen, I can gladly say that you are a very special man and just the company my daughter would need this summer. Stay as long as you like to."

"Thank you, Miranda.", he gave her a smile of pure gratitude.

"For how long have you been together?", Hermione's head rushed up to her.

"Mum! How come you think – "

"Since Christmas.", Severus said softly and her mother nodded. "Hermione.", she looked back at his warm smile. "She is your mother. If she didn't know, she wouldn't be."

"Is everything alright up here?", Mr Granger had entered the scene, looking over his wife's shoulder.

"Yes, Daniel.", she said. "We should leave them alone."

"But – Hermione – is really everything alright?"

"Yes, Dad.", she smirked, but at Severus.

He waited until they had shut the door and their footsteps were out of earshot. Then he leaned closer, finally able to give her the hello kiss both had waited on for more than an hour. Their left hands still holding and their wands in their right, they drowned in the touch as if they hadn't kissed in ages.

Downstairs, Mrs Granger had started to wash the dishes.

"What do you think about that all, darling?", her husband had joined her for drying up. "Hermione's always spoken highly of teachers like they were some sort of gods and then we get to meet the first one and it turns out they're like best friends?"

"What should I think about it, Daniel? He is a nice, polite and obviously talented man."

"Yes. He is very cultivated."

"And quite handsome as well."

"Handsome?", Mr Granger chuckled. "Yes. I suppose, he is.", he pondered.

"They would make a wonderful couple."

"What? Miranda!", he laughed.

"I'm just saying."

"Oh come on. You've known him for an hour! He's her teacher! And twenty years older!"

" _Nineteen_ years."

"Er – "

"Yes, I do have a memory.", she snapped.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me,", his wife sang. "I know he could be her father already, but I only wish our daughter to be happy. She is _visibly_ happy when being with him."

"Apart from those moments when she was close to burst into tears, yes."

"That is due to the current situation."

"Miranda – you don't want to pair them off, do you?", he eyed her with suspicion.

"Of course not. But what if they would be a couple? Just – imagine. What would be if our Hermione has grown up at last and has found herself a boyfriend who can give her what she needs?"

" _Boy_ friend.", her husband huffed. "He is _nineteen_ years – "

"Stop picking at the age! This is just an example!"

"Then what do you want? That I say they'd make the best couple ever? What would _you_ think if our daughter was dating a man who's so much older than her?"

"I would be okay with it as long as he takes care of her.", blinking heavily, he stared at his wife.

"She's underage!"

"No, she's not."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, she's not. Yes, in our world she would be. But if you have failed to notice, she's a witch. Remember what Madam Goodfowl said?"

"Goodfowl? The one who told us – "

"That `` _Under the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery, she is merely allowed to perform magic out of school that falls under educational exceptions. Furthermore, this permission is limited to her home, and presence of people aware of magic. Yet by the day she turns seventeen, the Ministry can no longer sue her for doing magic, unless it would violate the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy, or break any other law._ ´´ Once seventeen, she was considered of age. So, whether we approve of it or not, Hermione is, since almost a year, free to date whomever she wants without having to ask for our permission."

~~#~~


	38. Chapter 37 - Muggles' Studies

– Chapter 37 –

 **Muggles' Studies**

Rain pelted against the windows, a welcomed change. The hot weather had dried the gardens too much once more. No lights were on in the house, yet not everyone was still in bed. Almost facing the kitchen door, his head hidden behind a newspaper, Severus Snape read with boredom, flipping each page accompanied by a sigh and a pair of bronze eyes followed the movement of his hands. The _Daily Prophet_ laid folded on the table. Next to it, were a steaming cup of tea, his black wand and Crookshanks. He sat a little askew so he could cross his legs. The long, slightly wide sleeves of his oxford blue pyjamas had slid to his elbows.

Thick clouds outside made the room gloomy in this early hour. On the wall, the hands of a clock showed half past five in the morning. He wiped a bundle of his thick black hair from his face, lifted the cup and took a sip. Not removing his eyes from the black font, he pricked up his ears the moment Crookshanks did. There were noises coming from upstairs. Someone moved to the bathroom, another person went downstairs. He put down the cup and read on, holding the newspaper with both hands again. A gasp. Robbing his eyes, Daniel Granger looked at the crossed barefoot legs, the big cat on the table and the newspapers.

"Good morning,", Severus said softly and placed the Muggle newspaper on the _Prophet_ , not lowering his left forearm.

"Good – morning – ", Daniel yawned, his hand on his mouth and his eyes staring awkwardly at the black skull and snake on Severus' arm.

"Herbs and blackberry. I hope, you are fine with the mix?"

"Pardon me?"

"The tea. I mixed herbal and blackberry tea."

"Oh – thank you. Yes. That's wonderful. It's Miranda's favourite in the morning, by the way.", he scratched his head. "How did you know?", Severus only smiled. "You can't read minds, can you?"

"The mind is something very complex. Reading it is almost impossible. But picking out bits of information and interpreting that right, is pathetically easy for a well trained Legilimens like me."

"A – what?", he chuckled. "Wait – didn't you – it's that thing again, that you said to Hermione – "

"Surely your daughter hadn't had the time to confront you with every tiny detail concerning magic, but if this makes it easier for you to understand, yes, you may call Legilimency `mind-reading´. However, it is not as simple as what most people imagine under that term; the field itself, from the scientific perspective, includes a variety of abilities.", he lifted his cup for another sip. "And a really good Legilimens can, well, actually wander along the flows of memories. Yet, only few in history ever managed to and an even smaller number could do that without a wand in hand, sadly."

"I think I don't want to know more." Mr Granger smirked, helped himself to a cup of tea and sat down left to Severus, who had hijacked the fridge-side head of the table. "Horrible weather today.", he briefly glanced over his shoulder, out of the window.

"I grew up at the Scottish border and spent the majority of my life by a sea loch much further north. Trust me, the weather is magnificently pleasant. Especially after the last days' stifling hell. And _I_ think _you_ don't want to spend the time waiting for your wife to join us with talks about the weather."

"No.", the other man laughed quietly. "Is Hermione up already?"

"She sleeps like a stone. Rain usually does that to her."

"You tell me?", both had a chuckle. "So what does it mean? That tattoo?", he pointed on the arm when Severus placed the cup on the saucer.

"It is a – good morning,", Mrs Granger had entered the kitchen and turned on the light, not noticing Severus' faint sigh and heavy blinking on the change.

"Good morning, Severus! You're up already?"

"I am used to get up early."

"Of course. You need to prepare for classes."

"Severus made us tea, darling."

"Did he?"

"Your favourite morning tea.", her husband emphasised.

"Really? How come you know? Has Hermione told you?"

"No. He's a lechli- what was that?"

"Legilimens.", Severus smiled broadly.

"And what would that be?", she asked eagerly, taking plates from a cupboard.

"He – ", Daniel eyed him, "Forgive me the term – he can read minds, or so."

"Fascinating. What do I think right now?", he looked deeply into her eyes.

"You should better not let your daughter know.", Miranda blushed at his words.

"What were you thinking?", Daniel chuckled.

"Nothing.", she said hastily and placed the plates on the table.

"So, what's it?"

"What is what?"

"I meant Severus."

"My access ticket to the enemy's playroom."

"You mean, that's some sort of – tally?"

"It is a brand."

"Can I take a closer look?"

"If you really wish,", sighed Severus and laid his forearm flat on the tabletop.

"It doesn't look too fancy.", Daniel smirked. "I mean, it's well done, but – wait – is that snake – moving?"

"Interesting that you can see it."

"I just thought – for a moment – so – it is?"

"Yes."

"And that grants you entry to – which places?"

"Stop asking him such questions, Dad. Crookshanks! Will you – "

"Let him.", Severus meant, but the cat hadn't even winced anyway.

"Oh good morning, Hermione.", her parents said at once.

"Good morning, my precious.", it was just a whisper, but it was enough to make Hermione feel some warmth rising in her face.

"What was that?", her father asked, his head rushing back at Severus.

"I only wished her a good morning as well.", the most convincing innocent smile. "And it is perfectly all right. Curiosity is no crime, is it?"

"And the rule?", she went to the fridge, searching for things she knew he would like for breakfast.

"It is my own rule, Hermione. It is _my_ life."

"Sure."

"It won't be on me to explain anyway, why you wish the Dark Lord's most loyal and trustworthy servant to share your room."

"The – what?", Mr Granger coughed, a little panicking. "Dar- you don't mean that – that evil wizard?"

"Lord – Voldemort? That was his name, right?", his wife said, watching Hermione set the table around the papers and her cat, who remained ignorant, much to her displeasure. "Hermione? What – what are you doing with all that?"

"His breakfast."

"You eat something like this for breakfast, Severus?"

"Yes, he does.", a stern stare from her daughter in return.

"What is this?"

"What's what.", Hermione huffed.

"This.", Severus gave the little plastic pot a push with one of his fingers.

"You have eyes, you have glasses, you can read.", a bit annoyed, Severus put back on his specs, picked up the pot and started to read out the one and other thing aloud.

" _With fresh herbs_. Certainly. Depending on personal definition of `fresh´. _Purely biological. From our dearest cows only_. No, thank you."

"Since when are you so critical?"

"I am merely realistic here.", Severus sighed and took off his glasses again, put the spread down and pushed it aside ostentatiously, which was emphasised by another push from Crookshank's paw, what all but Hermione noticed.

"Nitpicking."

"Actually, I am trying to survive."

"Tz."

"So is this – ", Mr Granger pointed fiercely on his arm to brutally bring back the other topic, " _His_ sign? Are you one of those – what does he call them – death beaters?"

"Eaters.", Hermione corrected him; Severus only smirked. "Yes eaters.", she murmured very quiet. "And that's why I don't get why you'd rather eat something the Elves were forced to make,"

"They get paid for it,", mumbled Severus.

"No, Dumbledore's d– "

"Since when d'you take me for such an arse?"

"You let one of them in our house?", Daniel hissed.

"Your bread, you oh so loyal servant, you.", Hermione snapped, placing the basket a little forceful on the table. "If you don't want yourself kicked out, you should probably consider telling my parents that you are his biggest enemy, after Harry Potter himself, before you choke on that dry bread because the only spread we can offer doesn't meet your expenses,"

"Hermione?"

"I was never a Death Eater.", Severus spoke the conciliating words, nevertheless Hermione gave an upset snort. "I joined his rows for only one purpose: to bring him down, once and for all. I have devoted nearly twenty years of my life to that disturbingly time consuming matter."

"And he never found out?", Mr Granger leant back, unsure whether to believe.

"I can be very persuasive.", Severus smiled, a little self-satisfied.

"But if you already are, I suppose he is also one of those – mind-readers?"

"He is considered one of the greatest Legilimens since recorded history. But I am obviously too good at Occlumency. That is the opposite, closing one's mind. In this case, we are quite a match for one another. If we have eye contact, it might happen that I can intrude his mind without his notice. His eyes are his weak spot, as with most people. After all these cruel things he has done to his soul, he is still human enough to let his intentions drift through his eyes. I, on the other hand,"

"He's a very good actor.", Hermione sighed, finally sitting down between Severus and her mother who had left the chair empty for her; nevertheless she threw the ginger furball a glare, while Severus cut a fine number of vegetables into slices on his plate, every of his moves studied individually by the flicking bronze marbles. "If it's not in his eyes, the truth may be neither seen nor heard. And even those he can control, if he wants."

"How can we know then, that you really are a double agent, working for the good rather than this evil man? Because you – could fake everything, right?"

"Well, that is the point.", Severus affirmed, sprinkled the slices with some salt and started eating. "You will have to trust me.", Mr Granger said nothing to it but took a nervous bite of his toast with jam.

"Hermione trusts him, Daniel.", Miranda said. "We should do as well."

"But what if he fools her? After all, this – ", again he pointed on Severus' arm which was covered by the sleeve now, "Is fine proof of whom he works for."

" _Pretends_ to work for.", Hermione snarled.

"Either way – how can you know?"

"I know it.", she said in a way her father knew he stood no chance against her, nevertheless he kept trying.

"I can understand that you like him and all, but _you_ must understand that I'm not too fond of knowing people with that thing in my near,"

"There are three more chairs.", Hermione hissed.

"Pardon?"

"Yes. You sat down next to him, asking him this and that and it was no problem then. But if knowing of his Dark Mark makes you feel unable to sit at his side anymore, there are three more chairs around this table which you may chose from."

"Hermione,", Severus warned.

"It's true, isn't it? I mean, that is why you don't tell people too much about yourself. They have prejudices and they aren't as good at lying or hiding knowledge as you are."

"You know what I meant.", his seriousness grew. "You are Hermione Granger, not Ginevra Weasley."

"What?"

"Do I have to repeat?", he raised an eyebrow.

"I – ", his eyes killed every protest willing to rise inside her; she swallowed and bit off her bread with ham. "What the – "

Crookshanks' head had jerked up to the ceiling above the sink so fast, it startled the three. Severus though, only eyed him with interest. After some moments, all of them had spotted what had drawn the cat's attention: Wherever it had come from, concerning Mrs Granger's cleaning habits, it must have hidden there successfully for a long while. The spider was so big, with such thick legs, it could have been mistaken for a baby acromantula. Yet it wasn't.

"Don't worry. It is just a Cardinal Spider.", Severus tried to relax them, what was rather difficult due to its approximate four inches in span. "They are completely harmless. How ever it decided to show in that bright light here, I really wonder.", in the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny tongue flick. "And I believe, someone wants you to take closer look at it."

"What?", Mrs Granger gasped.

"He's hungry. Allow me to grant him the snack?"

Though he didn't wait for their, nor the spider's approval. With a faint swirl of his right index and middle finger he picked and levitated the struggling insect down to the table, ten eyes following kicking legs. He let it float between himself and Crookshanks, just far away enough for the cat to not reach it without getting up. As if knowing of that, he didn't make any move towards the spider, but only stared past it, straight into Severus' eyes.

"What're you – ", Hermione whispered upon seeing the malicious smirk on Severus' lips.

Not touching any thing in his surrounding, Crookshanks raised. With his fluffy bottlebrush tail whipping, his head followed the swinging spider, conducted by the gentle and slow moves of Severus' fingers. He let it float just past his own head, between him and Hermione. Careful, Crookshanks placed one paw after another between the dishes and food, not a single hair brushing on anything, the eyes still fixated on the panicked spider. At the table's corner between Severus and Hermione he crouched down and in the split-second flick Severus gave the spider, he jumped left, caught it in midair and landed softly and almost soundless on the kitchen floor. A faint crunch and the spider was dead, with the smirk becoming a sweet smile. All three gazed at him, while the cat sat down and gnawed with relish.

"Now, did you think, he had simply chased his prey at Hogwarts? He certainly loves obstacles."

"Seems so.", chuckled Hermione. "How did you – of course. You haven't only shared windowsills with him, have you?"

"He is good company, when humans are too much and Luna otherwise engaged. And you _can_ trust me, Daniel. I do not wish to hurt your daughter.", he now turned back to him, who needed a moment to realise the topic from before had returned.

"Is that so?"

"Dad. Please. He's here to protect me before I leave."

"Then it's settled? You won't return to Hogwarts?"

"No. If Hogwarts is meant to still exist in a year, I can't return."

"But where will you go?"

"I don't know."

"That's not a good start for running away."

"I'm not running away. I'm running straight into battle from behind. And since we have not the slightest idea where to begin, yes, it's not a good start."

"And why won't you protect her after she leaves?", he addressed Severus.

"She will first leave off to a safe house. From there we will see what happens. She must stay there at least until Harry turns seventeen. Before that, he still has the Ministry Trace on him. That means, every tiny bit of magic he performs which does not fall under the educational exceptions, will be registered and the Ministry will know where exactly he is. Given the fact that the Dark Lord has positioned his spies in the Ministry already, it might mean Harry's death."

"And still you plan to pass on the information."

"As I said, Hermione, to a certain extent, I have no choice. I can protect him while he is escorted to the safe house, but I cannot do that when the term starts. Not fully, at least. I have to be at Hogwarts. From there, my means are limited and I can neither protect him while he is at the safe house. I am no longer a member of the Order. Albus' protections had ever had this one exception included. But as much as the Dark Lord's barriers cannot be crossed in any way _without_ the Mark, the Order's shields cannot be crossed with the Mark _on_. And since they renewed them, I am not permitted entry either way. Looking past the barrier is impossible as well. There will just plain ground to be seen and no sound can get out."

"Isn't The Burrow under Ministry security? I think, I have heard Kingsley drop – "

"Yes, you heard him right and this might not have changed within a year. I understand what you mean to ask. But I can't tell who spoke which protections on which house. Yes, Rufus is involved in some, and I suspect he did his part in protecting The Burrow, but I really don't know how much he did where. They tried to divide the houses as good as possible to grant at least part security in case. And I know as much about the actual destination as you do. There will be people stationed at every safe house, but where exactly Harry will be taken, is on Alastor. He will weigh the odds the moment the escort sallies."

"But Scrimgeour believed you, didn't he? I mean, after all you gave him plenty enough evid– "

"Yes, he kept silent about my role, _prior_ to Albus' death, yet I don't know how much he takes his cousin's words into account. I may still be permitted, or not. I'd go for the second, and you know just as well it's more likely. I told you, he has seen too much and my game is certainly nothing new to him. Nobody may have taken it as far, but in the end he only trusts his personal judgement, if any – a habit, I of all, can comprehend."

"Like all Aurors.", Hermione huffed.

"Like _most_ Aurors. Believe me, that has nothing to do with any kind of paranoia-rate that is said to exist, it has simply proven to be healthy."

"So you say, he'd rather not trust you then?"

"Would you blame him? I also said, he is not his cousin. And testing that isn't wise. Especially not now that all eyes are watchful. Hermione. You forget, the extent of your involvement in the actual plan is an exception. I know you are intelligent enough to understand that any try of mine to enter, let alone reveal the plan to more, means as much as being stupid enough to crush the hard work of two decades, and in the course,"

"Kill Harry, yes.", she grumbled.

"The only thing that can cross such barriers regardless of permission, is a Patronus. A Patronus does not follow any law. It follows only the emotions of the caster. It is the strongest constructive form of energy, as much as a Dementor is capable of the strongest _de_ structive energy in the regard."

"I know the specifics of a Patronus.", sighed Hermione, but the moment she had said that, a part of her realised that the information had been meant for her parents.

"But I can't just have either of mine bursting in, singing `Oh hey, sorry 'bout the euthanasia! Let's be friends again!´"

"Yes, yes, get it.", grunted Hermione.

"Is this what you created yesterday?", her mother asked. "The otter? Was this such – ?"

"Yes.", said both.

"That was really beautiful magic. Can you do it again or is it difficult?"

"Mum!"

"So it is difficult?"

"Why don't _you_ do it Hermione?", meant Severus.

"My wand is upstairs."

"Your wand is – ", he murmured. "For Heaven's sake – now you are suicidal too?"

With a snort, Hermione jumped up and left. But he was right, she thought, when she stomped up to her room. How could she? What if there was an attack? What if they had to defend themselves? What if they had to flee immediately? She hadn't considered that. Going back down, she tried to calm herself. After all she couldn't produce a corporeal Patronus when she was angry with herself, could she? She knew how much frustration such had brought Ron while practising, leading to even lesser chances of success. Facing her eager parents, she stopped in the doorway, took a deep breath and raised her wand. The incantation couldn't hurt. Better than failing at doing it non-verbally. And she knew there was no need to try and impress him, while she was only meant to demonstrate something.

"Expecto Patronum!", a silvery white and blue flash and Hermione dropped a surprised shriek, causing the figures to vanish as fast as they had come. "Oh my god – ", she aspirated. "I can – ?"

"Naturally.", Severus smirked, visibly flattered.

"You – I never asked – you're not an Animagus, are you? I mean, James was – and his Patronus was a stag too and so is Harry's and Lily's was a doe because of him and that's why yours is a doe too and an otter because of – you know and my otter is almost a weasel even though Ron's Patronus is a terrier and – ", she sputtered.

"Don't forget to breathe, Hermione.", he stopped her with a chuckle. "A Patronus is not at all connected to one's Animagus form. It is only as much connected to the personality of one's soul as the Animagus form is. James, being utmost proud of himself, became a stag and therefore his Patronus showed that form: because of his pride, and the habit of defending what he believed to be his, sometimes to the bitter end. Harry's Patronus is the same because he found out that little detail – and probably because he inherited a little of his grandmother's pride. Lily's Patronus was only probably a doe due to her love for him, but she had a Twin-Patronus as well."

"So you – "

"So yes, I have seen that crow before and it amuses me a lot that this is what the people who care for me associate me with, rather than the bat everyone who dislike me describe me as; which I nevertheless find charming, since bats are actually an incredible strike of evolution. Lily wasn't an Animagus but she would quite likely have become a doe as well, though just because of her protective nature, I think. She was also a fairly good runner in rough terrain. Yours is an otter because it is your favourite animal and because you love to swim, although you don't really want to admit it – otters are extremely intelligent and protective as well, but you might know that much. And as you _might_ also know, Ron tends to bark at anyone who complains about what is dear to him. You know the reasons of mine, hopefully, and no, I am not an Animagus. I, quite frankly, never found it necessary to deal with this limitation, when I could vanish from sight entirely, rather than pretending to be something else that lacks skills much more efficient for a human being, and which I have perfected since I was a child."

"But your Patronus – can – can you chose? Or has it _decided_ to have that form now?"

"I can chose, luckily. Wouldn't it have been very impolite to send you a doe?", he winked.

"Oh. Yes. Probably.", she snickered. "So you think – I will be able to chose as well?"

"If you are strong enough, you might. I noticed that it depends on the memory I revive.", Hermione nodded understanding.

"And now slowly, so we can catch up with all that as well?", Mr Granger asked. "An Animagus – what was that again?"

"A shape-shifter.", Hermione explained. "They can take on the form of an animal."

"Only of one single animal?", he said to Severus, who nodded. "And it resembles the personality like that Patronus-thing does?"

"Yes, and – in cases."

"So that's why it looks like an animal?"

"Not really. Rather because a Patronus is a guard. Animals are the guards of nature. They are; unlike humans; still living _with_ nature, instead of _from_ it. Well, most. The only similarity of the Animagus form of a witch or wizard and the Patronus is their connection to the soul. While some have such a strong straight-lined personality and conviction that both are the same animal, others' may vary."

"Could it – er – change?"

"No. Once someone has become an Animagus, they cannot alter the animal they will turn into. Other than the Patronus however, which can change due to a change in life, be it a drastic shift in personality or in strong positive emotions, such as faith, hope, trust, gratitude, or most likely, love. A Patronus, as I said, is connected to positive thoughts and emotions of a person and what you saw your daughter do, is a rare phenomenon."

"Really?", both her parents looked astonished.

"Yes. A Patronus can already be of help if just being a waft of light. Corporeal Patroni are difficult to conjure, as they require a strong mind that is able to manifest a very strong positive memory. Hence, performing this protective charm non-verbally; which means without saying the incantation like Hermione did; is even more challenging. As you see, a Twin-Patronus is extremely rare and can only be created by a person with very strong emotions and mind. The will of the soul has to be based on purely good intentions and – this has to be split."

"Split?"

"It only works if they are truthfully devoted to more than one cause, to both in the same manner and equally intense.", Hermione sadly quoted how he had once explained it to her.

"So – you – ", Daniel's eyes wandered between his daughter and Severus. "And the crow – ", they shortly flicked on his wife, "Now don't give me that `I-told-you´-look, Miranda! But – wait – Severus, didn't you say you – can decide which form – "

"Yes, as it happens that I am able to produce a Twin-Patronus as well, I can decide which of the two animals I conjure, depending on the memory I chose.", he repeated. "At least I have had fairly enough practice. But I cannot chose the animals themselves. No one can chose which animal their memory causes to appear. It is very complex magic and the actual rules behind can only be guessed or analysed, based on witnessed facts."

"Facts.", he stared at his daughter. "And when has the fact occurred that you fell in love with one of your teachers?"

"Long before you were close to being late for work for the first time in your life.", she said coldly.

"What?"

"Look at the clock."

"Oh my goodness! Daniel!", Miranda gasped and jumped up. "She's right!"

"Blimey!", he muttered and followed his wife out of the kitchen, past Hermione who had stepped aside.

She only stared at the chair he had sat on, her wand hanging flaccidly to her side. Severus got up and slowly approached her. She would just look up for a second when he was inches away from her, putting his arms around her. Closing her eyes, she shakily wrapped her own arms around his back, leaning to his chest, and listened to the beating of his heart. Noises in the bathroom upstairs. They didn't bother. They didn't listen. Severus nestled his face in Hermione's messed bushy hair.

"You like my hair a lot.", Hermione mumbled.

"I cannot deny I do.", he softly whispered back.

The rain was still hammering at the windows, drowning their calm, deep breathing. Severus' fingers carefully dug into Hermione's soft pink short-sleeved T-shirt, pulled her closer. She welcomed the firm grip, imitating him, her wand still in hand. Footsteps. He slightly looked up, baring his face only past his eyes. Down the corridor, Daniel came around the stairs and froze for a moment when he saw them like this. With a sigh, he slouched his shoulders. There was nothing he could do against that. His wife came after, following the direction of his gaze. She gave them a gentle smile before she took an umbrella from the stand next to the front door. Severus loosened his grip so Hermione could partly turn to them.

"Oh.", she whispered.

"There is no need to worry, Daniel. As I said, I don't mean to hurt her.", the other man only nodded.

"What will you do today? I mean, the weather is – "

"Nothing to worry about either. There are enough harmless things we can do.", he returned Mrs Granger's warm smile. "Have a fine day."

"You too.", Mr Granger said, though a little sceptical and took his own umbrella.

"Goodbye."

"Bye Mum, bye Dad."

"Oh lord – ", he had opened the door. "Nothing to worry about? Can wizards make themselves water-repellent, or what?"

"We can!", Hermione called after him, but they were outside already, unable to hear her over the racket the rain made on the umbrellas. "`There are enough harmless things we can do´?", she turned to Severus when the door was closed, locking it by blindly flicking her wand back.

"Harmless.", he smiled, stroking her left cheek.

"Harmless. Like what? Reading? Talking? Watching – the weather? Or even TV? Or – "

She was shushed by a pair of soft lips, almost eating the words she wanted to say, though tenderly. There was no possibility to resist. Even if she wanted, she wouldn't stop him. The car of her parents was gone, so was Crookshanks without their notice, leaving them alone. Her wand noisily slipped to the kitchen floor when two warm hands glided beneath her T-shirt and up her spine. Hers somehow had the urge to do the same. Seconds later they found themselves topless on her bed. Severus put down their wands on the white bedside chest of drawers, in front of the lamp.

"When did you pick up those?", Hermione aspirated, looking from them to his black veiled face.

"I summoned my own wand and then yours before I flew you up."

"I – I didn't notice.", she tried to stare at his jewellery and pouch resting on her chest. "Since when can you summon wands?"

"There are many things you don't notice when your are distracted,", he gave her a mischievous smile and moved his leg a little.

"What?", just then she realised that they were actually completely naked. "And when did you get rid of _those_?"

"They must be lying somewhere on the stairs.", he sighed, brushing a hand through her hair.

"You deceitful Hinkypunk!", she giggled and pulled his head down to her lips. "Harm – less – things.", she hissed between their kisses. "Sure."

"Albus – once taught me – a quite effective – restoring charm. We could – literally – turn – the house – upside down – and – they would not – notice a thing. So yes – _harmless_."

~~#~~

"I will never look at that sofa in the same way again.", Hermione sighed, cutting some carrots, still shaking a little. "Never."

"Only the sofa?", Severus smirked, blushing behind his curtain of messed hair and shoved quartered courgette slices into a pot with boiling water.

"And the staircase – and – ", she carried the board over to him, "The corridor floor upstairs.", the carrots joined the courgette. "Are those potatoes ready?", he picked one up with a fork.

"Yes. But be careful. They are hot."

"Really?", Hermione chuckled, gave the potatoes two flicks of her wand and hovered the peel into the dustbin.

"Slacker.", he grumbled and started cutting them into slices. "And you forgot the bed."

"Oh my god yes!", she aspirated. "The bed! Um – how am I to cut these tomatoes?"

"Slices."

"Again?"

"Again. And the noodles are ready too."

"Oh.", she picked up the third pot and strained the noodles, then grabbed a tomato. "I still don't get why you think rice noodles are better for that."

"I don't care whether you get it, as long as your impossibility to understand the one or other thing doesn't kill me in the end,"

"Sure. Honestly, tomorrow will be the harmless day you promised them."

"Oh yes. Definitely.", he grinned, being halfway through the pot of potatoes.

"They really won't notice a thing.", Hermione smirked, thinking of how effective that spell had been; there was not even dust left in the entire house and she knew he had also made sure no more such spider would appear.

"Unless you keep blushing constantly – "

"I'll try my best. Now tell me – ", she looked at his white long-sleeved shirt and long black trousers that even had buttons at the bottom, "Don't you have any comfortable clothes? Other than your pyjamas, I mean?"

"Do you complain?", he looked down on himself. "This _is_ comfortable,"

"Yeah. It's a relief that you are barefoot and that you rolled up your sleeves. But I mean – something like T-shirts or leggings – "

"Hermione. You have known me for – how long?"

"I know!", she moaned. "Still – "

"That is a hope you can gladly give up on."

"Thought so. Well, I like your way of dressing anyway. But I just can't see how that's supposed to be comfortable. Okay, the school uniform is quite comfortable as well, but I'd never wear it on a free day. And in Hogwarts you even run around with a robe at least, no matter how free or not free or hot or cold that day is."

"Because I like to."

"Fine. You won. Where – "

"Just place them anywhere. You may grate the cheese now.", he had already finished cutting the potatoes and even thrown broccoli into the pot.

"Um – which of the two?"

"Both." he salted the vegetables in the pot in front of him.

"Both?"

"Half of each. It gives a nice mix of taste.", he prepared two terrines with margarine and dark breadcrumbs.

"Alright. Then we just put layer on layer?"

"Yes. Have you never made a bake?"

"No. When I cook, it's mostly mashing things together."

"Why doesn' 'is surprise me.", Severus mumbled.

"Somehow it always tastes good, but I believe any cook would slay me. It also looks like rubbish."

"You can even make that look like the best meal ever."

"I don't think – "

"For example, you can put a leaf of some herb you used on top or scatter spices around the edge of the plate – or both. If your dish includes rice, you can press it into a bowl or a pudding cup and turn it upside down onto the plate, decorating it in the same manner. You could make simple ornaments with a sauce – ", he gave the pot a stir, "Or try not to grate your fingers into that heap of unfortunately not very cheap cheese – "

"Oh my – !", she gasped, seeing that the piece she had cut off for grating was at an end. "Thanks. And I will keep that in mind next time. Maybe I can serve that crap to my parents then. Why do we need two terrines?"

"Because we prepare both but bake only one. The second is, well, for your parents later. It is better if you don't warm it up."

"You think we will eat that all?"

"It is not that big and there are two of us, remember?"

"So you _really_ think we'll eat it all?"

"Wait until it is done. And now help me with the layers, please. Noodles, those vegetables mixed with the potatoes, I will season them, another layer of noodles. Some evenly spread tomatoes, more seasoning, cheese and noodles again."

"Okay.", she did what he said, checking how much he put into his terrine. "More breadcrumbs? In that layer?"

"Yes. Didn't I mention hat?"

"No."

"Well, here strikes the routine."

"Cheese on top?"

"Nice logical thought."

"Don't make me sound like I'm stupid.", Hermione moaned.

~~#~~

"I don't believe this.", she groaned. "I really don't believe this.", her eyes gazed at the empty terrine. "We ate this? All of it?"

"Well, I will not say I haven't told you.", Severus sneered, leant back in his chair opposite to her and crossed his arms.

"No.", she shook her head, utmost flabbergasted. "Say, what's your favourite food?"

"Hmm?"

"What's your favourite food, Severus. I mean, I know you like chocolate cream with spearmint and that you're obsessed with your strange sort of breakfast,"

"There you got it."

"What – breakfast?", Hermione frowned.

"Yes."

"That's all? You like breakfast? That can't be it, can it?"

"And the fact that there exists such a variety of herbs and spices that you can make practically everything edible, if you are, in the end, able to digest it before you die.", he answered fast, but seemingly bored, just as though this was his rehearsed answer to the question, should it ever be asked.

"What's your favourite food.", Hermione repeated stern.

"Do you honestly believe, I will tell you and risk us both getting poisoned by your attempt to cook for me without my guidance?"

"Fine.", she huffed. "Are you done with being the usual impertinent git,"

"Certainly."

"And what do we do now?"

"It has stopped raining. Fancy a little walk?"

"I would, yes. But you'd have to drag me all the way.", a warm laugh escaped him when he cleaned the whole kitchen with a single wave of his wand. "Um – don't you think, somebody could get curious if they saw us walking down the street?"

"Who said I would walk down the street with you?", she shivered as she felt his warm toes crawling up her bare leg like a spider, but stopping at her short pants. "There are so many places we could walk at without being seen.", Hermione bit her lower lip with a little smirk rising. "Many places you haven't seen yet.", she sucked in some air when his toes moved further up, both looking deep into the other's eyes.

"Where?"

"Oh I don't know. I will give you some words, you chose."

"Which are?", she tried to keep a straight face, which eventually resulted in heavy blinking.

"Lake, forest, mountain, sea."

"I – ", Hermione gasped and clutched the fork she still held in her hand.

"If you wish to attack me with that, I ensure you, I will bear the punishment.", he smiled roguishly and pulled back his leg. "Well?"

"I didn't assume in the slightest that you could be so naughty. Not even after the results of that stupid essay of mine."

"Personally, I can unfortunately say of myself that there is quite a number of things you wouldn't expect me to be able to do.", Severus sighed.

"Like torturing someone to death or denying your own son?"

"Other than those worn off examples, yes. I have done many things in my life – I – am not really proud of. Like, as you say, the way I chose to protect my only son. There are so many things I would have wanted to do with him – so many moments I wanted to share, but I decided not to, for the sake of his welfare. And when I regretted most, I knew there was no way back, never. It does not help to long when giving in to this longing would lead to his death. So, naturally, I will keep putting on my mask and find satisfaction in his safety, rather than spending happy moments with him. Because there will not be any happy moments until this war is over. It is not possible, you know that, or so I hope."

"Your mask – ", Hermione pondered, "Your Death Eater mask – could you show me – you have one, don't you?", Severus pulled his pouch from beneath his shirt and summoned a soft golden metal mask that was decorated with fine ornamental lines. "Thank you.", she took it and examined it. "You know, just in case I need to identify you.", he nodded.

"Yes. It would be too bad if one of you kills me while I am about to help you."

"Yeah.", chuckled Hermione and handed it back.

In blind flight, he stored the mask and the pouch, his face on the clock up on the wall. When the pouch was back at its hiding place, he looked at – Hermione was gone. A little alarmed, his head rushed around and then down to his thighs where he had felt something he recognised as her hands. Frowning at her, who stared up as good as it was possible from under the table, he pushed himself back a bit over the floor with his chair. Hermione, on her knees, moved after him, not taking her hands off his spread legs.

"What are you doing – ?"

"I don't know?", she curled her lips, sat down with her legs to her right and crossed her arms, leaning onto his thighs. "Maybe I don't want to go for a walk?", her eyes closed at the touch of his hand on her head, playing with her hair and fondling her face.

"But what if I insist?", his thumb brushed over her lips and her eyes opened again, gazing up dreamingly.

"Do you think, I leave you a choice?", she loosened her arms and her hands slowly glided to his hips, making him shudder.

"What if I am too exhausted to – ", the first button of his trousers was open already.

" _Who said_ – that you'd need to do anything?", two more buttons were undone.

"When, did you say, your parents – ", the rest of the question drowned in her surprised shriek as he unintentionally seized her wrist.

"Late enough! Ow! You're hurting – Severus?"

He could still hear her voice, but even though he knew her face to be right down between his knees, there was only a cold floor. However, the white tiles seemed to have vanished as well and he could see the stone beneath. But in the following second he knew this couldn't be the same floor. It made no sense that the kitchen floor in a Muggle house would be made of tiled stone blocks. The thing in his hand was equally cold and unfriendly and all he knew was that he wanted to get rid of it. He _had_ to get rid of it, but there seemed no way to, not with his aching fingers, the gut-wrenching scream still in his ears, echoing from the walls.

The chain in his hand struggled, rattled noisily. He didn't understand where the pain came from, but he felt it meant the worst, whatever that would be.

" _Severus!_ ", Hermione screamed, finally able to free herself from his grip and pulling his mind back into her parents' kitchen. "What the – ", he could barely see his own reflection in her glassy eyes. "What's – what's wrong with you – "

"Nothing.", he breathed the quick lie.

"Don't – "

"I'm fine – ", looking at her right now felt almost as horrible as that pain from before, so he decided to just stare at the tiles beside her, in the shadow of the table.

"No, you're not.", she huffed angrily.

"I am."

"Severus,"

"I said I'm fine!", he barked at her, not believing how _she_ could be upset at all now.

"Who else isn't?"

"What?"

"I asked, who – ", realising that she understood, most of his frustration was blown away immediately, but he couldn't answer – he lightly shook his head instead. "Harry?", she gasped and sprang up so fast she nearly pushed the table over, but the only right answer was to shake his head again. "Oookay? Who then?"

"I – I can' – "

"What?"

"I said, I can't."

"You can't _what_?"

"Do tha' – "

"Do _what_ _!_ Severus?"

He didn't even feel guilty, leaving her standing there. He had to get out. Not only out of the room. Not out of the house, out of – he couldn't recall ever having undressed manually that quickly. It hurt. But he didn't want it to be anything near soothing. It felt just right that the ice cold water scourged his skin. He couldn't believe that he could have ever wanted something like this to happen again, but the pain was relieving, compared to what he had felt only a minute ago. He knew it wouldn't diminish the guilt that cascaded in on him with every single drop impaling him like raining icicles, but if this was the way he would die, he would at least know he had deserved to die.

There was nothing to justify what he had done. He should have ended it before it even had started. Years before. It had been on him, but he had acted like some godforsaken teenager. Not even as a teenager he had been so stupid and ruthless. Now he might pay the price. Again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Hermione raged behind him, but he couldn't care less for any word she yelled. They had no meaning. Nothing had any more meaning. There was almost nothing he could do anymore. The game was practically over. He had to play according to the rules. Otherwise he would risk to lose all he still had left.

"I can understand that you don't want any more sex today, but that doesn't justify acting as though you had a vision or something, just to get rid of me! You could have said ` _please_ ´, you know? Do you hear anything I'm telling you?", he leant forward, freezing, trembling from both cold water and sudden exhaustion.

"Please."

"What?"

"I said, please."

"Please. Tz. Now. Please what.", although he didn't want to turn or anything alike, he knew she must have crossed her arms right then.

"Please leave me."

"Leave you? Leave you to drown, or what?"

"I've – I've been drownin' fer ages."

"Huh?"

"Tha bes' – if there's – ", he turned off the water with a deep sigh, "If there's anythin' serious ye feel fer me, please leave me alone."

"So you want to be left alone? After such a morning? After we've been cooking and eating together? After all that, your mood suddenly changes, becoming that of a world-hating grump?"

"If tha's wha' ye think, so yes."

"What?"

"Jus' – jus' go – "

"Go where! We're at _my_ home! You forbade me to leave it without you!"

"Go ter yer room."

"You're not my Dad,"

"Certainly. Bu' ye're no' me wife either."

"Not your – ? You know what, you go drowning yourself, I'll go and read something that makes more sense than you. And if you've found the strength to step down from your ridiculous throne, you _could_ do me a favour and explain – "

"No."

"Oh whatever.", she huffed and left.

~~#~~

A moment of silence fell over the empty table. Hermione's footsteps had deadened down when she had disappeared upstairs. Since then, they simply sat there, each of them in their thoughts. Behind the curtains and windows, night had arrived.

"I'll be in the shower.", said Daniel and left without paying attention to the approving nods he received.

"It feels strange.", Miranda raised her voice after some more quiet moments. "No cooking, no washing, no cleaning – like going to work and straight into holidays and back to work again."

"Don't get too used to it.", Severus noted, his hands brushing through masses of ginger fur on his lap that covered a dozing big creature, trying to distract himself from the distant agony emerging every once in a while. "I won't be staying that long."

"I'm quite aware of that. Hermione – she's changed – I begin to wonder when I came to miss the fact that she is not a little girl anymore, but an independent young woman – "

"Some people grow up within seconds, others need years. You rarely saw her over the past few. It is only natural that you missed certain things."

"What is she like?", much to his own woe, Severus couldn't help laughing, and Miranda not joining in.

"That is some really tricky question.", Severus grinned flaccidly.

"I know.", Miranda squinted. "You have beautiful teeth, by the way.", he unintentionally licked them in thoughts.

"Thank you. They had not been like that all my life."

"Really?"

"And I am not speaking about my primary teeth here; I used to be rather careless about my teeth, yes."

"And then you fell in love with her."

"Don't connect things that aren't meant to be connected. I merely found myself confronted with an old headache's stunted limestone cave and knew that if I didn't want to be rated down to his level, I had to do something about it, even though his teeth aren't actually bad but merely – gilded – by the tea he is required to drink daily."

"And what did you do, may I ask?"

"You don't want to know."

"I survived the fact that my daughter had let some nurse work magic on her teeth. I think, I – "

"It was rather brutal and, I grant, painful."

"Did you let that old headache of yours smash them into neat rows or what?", Miranda giggled but froze at his deep sigh and embarrassed smirk. "No."

"Tooth positions cannot be corrected by a punch. You should know that better than I do. But the process involved pliers, tweezers, a nice number of Healing and Restoring Spells as well as bits of Blood-Replenishing Potion and Skele-Gro."

"I don't know what they – looked like – before – but – ", she stammered with shock, "But was the result – "

"Rather pleasing, yes, as you noticed. I was painless after and it didn't affect my everyday life negatively, apart from having to relearn how to whistle. Although I don't recommend it. The method was – ah – a rather Russian approach, if you know what I mean. But yes, I have to admit, it was a relief. He did a great job. All I needed to do then was finding a new mixture for my toothpaste."

"Right.", she failed atrociously at trying to look as though the topic was not troubling her. "Where have you learned cooking anyway? I haven't had such delicious meals in years!"

"Why, thank you."

"Do you happen to have any recipes?"

"No. You need to have a feeling for that. You see, whether it'd be cooking or Potion Making or even grooming plants, if you know the basics and experiment a little, with caution though,"

"Then I'm afraid, I'm a lost case.", she chuckled flatly.

"Perhaps, I don't know.", smirked Severus. "I think my biggest advantage was my mother. She taught me everything she knew, quite early already, just in case she couldn't be there for me anymore."

"That's wonderful."

"The only thing she didn't teach me however, is how to handle that moment when it would come. I was eighteen when she died in my arms."

"Oh my goodness – ", Miranda aspirated.

"I had a friend who helped me through the time, but he had never lost anyone before. I still can't – cope with – people I – I knew – dying – it's – ", he took a deep breath and directed his look out of the window, "Like I'm dying too – I don't know. I keep telling myself that life goes on, that life _has_ to go on, and it does, eventually, but I can never – ", his eyes wandered down on Crookshanks, where they studied the limp movements of his own hands.

"I don't think, anyone can. Otherwise they don't have a heart. I myself was fifteen when my brother died from the consequences of a car crash. I'm still waiting for him to step through that door out there, telling me he's woken up. He was in coma for three months until they had given up on him and our parents decided to let him die."

"Mine has been murdered, along with the mother of my son."

"Oh god.", Miranda sighed and dropped her head into her hand. "Is there anyone you haven't lost yet?"

"I have a couple of real, honest friends, my son – my – and – and Hermione – ", he tried to explain, his sad eyes on her again.

"And you love her?", Severus nodded slowly.

"After Lily's death, I thought I could never again love any other woman, nor, especially, somewhat alike. But then – "

"And then, Hermione has to leave you for hunting down that, forgive me, arsehole."

"Yes. We'll be on our own again. I will protect her to the best I can, from my position within Hogwarts, but yes, they'll be alone out there and I'll – I – ", he swallowed, "I might be alone as well. But I have learned to live with being alone, at last. I was ever alone in some ways."

"Thank you, Severus. For being there for her, I mean."

"Nothing to thank."

"You know, it might sound horrible regarding the states things are, but I already feared she would die out there as some kind of virgin, never having gotten to know – um – _the pleasures of life_ – you know, she just doesn't deserve never having had a boyfriend. So, I'm glad that's off the table."

"Hermione,", Severus said a bit louder, puffing at the sink, "Haven't you told your parents about Viktor?"

"Oh crap – ", the girl's voice came from the corridor, where she had been eavesdropping. "I must have – forgotten – "

"Hermione? What are you doing out there?", she came in on the call of her mother, brightly flushed. "Viktor? That Viktor Krum? Your pen friend from Bulgaria? When have you been – ?"

"It's been nothing, Mum, really.", Hermione moaned. "Nothing worth mentioning. Actually he wasn't really my boyfriend. Well, he was, but he – wasn't."

"And that means?"

"They fancied one another, but Viktor wasn't her type. He understood that and ended it."

"He broke up?"

"Mum! It's not like I – why have you given me away?", she huffed and crossed her arms, in the end drilling her eyes into Severus' head.

"He didn't give you away, dear. I knew as well that you were listening."

"Still. That was a mean thing to do. Not that it's the first time, since you came here even,"

"Then it was mean.", Severus sighed at the fridge when she sat down next to him.

"That's not how it goes,", Hermione groaned.

"Then tell me how it goes,", their looks met on purpose and a chuckle escaped Hermione.

"Well, not that way! And you lied to me!"

"Now did I? When was that supposed to be?"

"We had a deal! The truth! You said, you didn't work magic on your teeth!"

"I didn't. Igor did."

"That – ", she opened her mouth to protest, but knew immediately that she couldn't put a slant on this. "You always know to talk your way out, don't you?"

"Nearly. Wasn't it you to congratulate me for having a talent with words?"

"I'm on the loo.", she stood up and went for the corridor above. " _Really_."

The silence was back. Upstairs, Daniel had turned up the shower and Hermione lastly disappeared next door. Then Miranda did something that confused Severus a little. She stood up as well, went around the table and half sat herself on the edge, looking down on him.

"You know,", she whispered, "Hermione always wanted a sister."

"Yes, she told me.", Severus replied equally low.

"But that will never be possible.", Miranda took a mournful breath; a hollow chuckle slipped her and she tried to avoid his eyes. "Well, it would have, but sometimes there are things we cannot – control – I mean, it's like my family's doomed to get hit by cars – I – ", she chuckled awkwardly, "I was in the seventh and we were about to go home from theatre in London. It wasn't any really special evening at all and we just walked over a zebra crossing towards our car – all I remember was a bright flash and Daniel yelling. I can vaguely recall having pushed Hermione away from me but – well, I woke up in hospital a week later – Daniel just had a broken arm and Hermione hadn't gotten hurt at all. But I knew immediately that something was wrong. I felt that something just wasn't right, apart from what I saw right away."

He only blinked at her knowingly, more knowingly than he wished to, the awareness binding him with tightening chains, crushing his heart, his soul more than ever and he was afraid, so afraid of having to face it – but she nevertheless lifted her blouse and pushed down her skirt and underpants a bit, baring a long, furrowed scar. Severus reached up for her hand and took it gently, making the blouse slip down again. He didn't want to see. It was her scar, hers alone, but it reminded him so much of another – of one of his – of an invisible one – one of the worst –

"She was five. She didn't understand.", Miranda's coming tears veiled her eyes so much she didn't see Severus' anymore, nor his own tears or curling lips.

~~#~~


	39. Chapter 38 - Charity

– Chapter 38 –

 **Charity**

The paper was dancing on the table. Legs crossed, she sat on the sofa and conducted it with her wand, a mix of boredom and anger burnt into her face. It was getting half past ten. Darkness had arrived outside. It had been another day without rain, similar to the day before. He hadn't let her touch him ever since – and her parents seemed to have missed it.

They sat next to her like on Sunday evening. Wordless, they watched her playing with the sheet. The garden-side living room window stood open, ready for him to get back. Apparating around the house would be too obvious. They had had supper without him. Just when they had wanted to start, he had been called for the meeting he had feared. Two days before they would have moved Harry. _Just_ like he had feared. With every minute in silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall got louder. Louder. And louder. And even more loud. Then the paper sank onto the table. She had heard something. _Felt_ something.

The curtains wavered and black fog appeared halfway through the living room, all eyes on it. He rushed on, landed almost on the other side of the room and materialised just before he slid down; his back pressed against the wall; next to the other window. His expression was empty, but there was rage and despair in the depth of his dark eyes – and blood on his hands. Hermione jumped up and hurried over to him.

"Severus – ", she aspirated, her own hands on his arms, but he looked past her, not seeming to feel her touch. "What happened? Can you hear me? C-can you see me?", he just lowered his head, squinting his eyes. "Severus.", her parents had arrived at her sides, shocked to see blood on him again. "Talk to me. Have you told him? How did he react?", he took a deep breath. " _What happened_?"

"'E – ", a faint whisper left him.

"What did he do?", Hermione moaned equally quiet, her eyes on something golden that glistened through the blood on his right hand; he looked as though he didn't ever want to answer her question, but his body gave in to it.

"'Twas a trap – tha whole meetin' – was jus' designed ter – tes' _me_ loyalty – I – I couldn' 'elp – I – it would 'ave – given me away – would 'ave – I'd 'ave risked 'is life even more – "

"So you told him?", she curled her lips and sank onto her feet.

"O' course I did!", he bellowed, or so she thought, yet a second after she realised it had been a mere whisper.

"And did he believe you?"

"Yes."

"So they will chase Harry."

"Tha's never been ou' o' question,"

"But you knew that – so – what exactly – and whose blood – "

"I told 'er ter leave – told 'er ter leave tha country – righ' when 'e said both Carrows should be teachers. I knew who'd 'ave ter step aside. She lef' – bu' – 'e tracked 'er down – t-tortured 'er – she mus' 'ave screamed all tha time – tha' I was 'er – ", she had no idea why his chuckle was suddenly amused, if though only for a moment, "'Er friend – an' tha' – killin' 'Dumbledore – was no' like me; she – never understoo' – I'd 'ave ter go – tha' far – as far as ter – she – 'e 'ad 'er 'angin' there from tha beginnin' – an' sum'when throughou' tha meetin', 'e levitated 'er across tha table – righ' pas' Draco – righ' ter tha middle o' tha table – "

"Who, Severus? _Who?_ ", Hermione demanded, the horrible truth already sinking in when she recognised the ring and her brain began combining his muttering that switched back and forth between horror and loathing.

"She begged me fer 'elpin' 'er – bu' I – couldn' – I couldn' give meself away – oh god I – I did wha' I ever did – 'e was so pleased – so sickly pleased when 'e saw tha' I din' – even wince a bi' – tha' it seemed no' t-ter touch me at all – tha' I mean' ter provide Hogwarts an example o' wha' it means ter disobey – "

"Severus – "

"Ye know, I'm – I'm r-really – glad – tha' 'e killed 'er before – "

"Severus – "

"'E fed 'er – ter – "

"What?"

"Fed 'er ter Nagini – ", he swallowed, his eyes blinking heavily into space, "In fron' o' – everyone – righ' on tha table – Draco was – 'orrified – 'e was so visibly close ter collapse – bu' 'e din' move – no' at all – "

"Look at me!", she yelled that her parents jumped away from her; he slowly turned his head. "Who.", she added calm, looking deeply into his eyes, though unwilling to hear it.

"Charity."

She nevertheless clapped a hand on her mouth, tears coming on the confirmation. At last, he started crying as well. Hermione just leant forward, taking him into her arms. His head fell against hers, yet very hesitantly, as he wept bitterly.

"Why's it – always – t-those – w-who do – n-nuthin' wron'! Why punishin' 'em fer me mistakes – "

"Who was Charity?", Miranda asked, her hand on her heart.

"One of his – best friends.", Hermione chuckled through her own crying, but she noticed Severus wince. "She taught Muggle Studies."

"Like Quirinus.", Severus snarled. "Like William. Like – an' – _'e killed 'em all!_ Jus' mea'! Nuthin' bu' mea'! 'E deserves no other fa'e than 'is soddin' soul bein' torn apar'!"

~~#~~

Friday's breakfast had passed without words. Hermione had given him some drops of Sleeping Potion so he could rest without having nightmares of the meeting. Her parents had left for London. Rain was falling again, wetting the scarce grass and exhausted bushes outside. Now the two just sat at the table, the used dishes still around. In between, their wands and hands, slack fingers embracing. His were cold. She couldn't remember them to have been cold ever before. Also it felt like he wore some invisible, repellent gloves. Touching his fingers didn't feel like touching.

"I asked you to remind me.", he said softly after an hour in silence and thoughts; which he had mostly spent with turning Charity's golden ring around his finger; making her startle slightly. "There is something I need to give to you."

He pulled his hand from her grip and got the pouch from beneath his pyjamas, but in spite of now holding the tiny bag instead, it didn't change what she _not_ felt on her hand. Hermione's eyes gaped with interest when he placed another drawstring bag like it on the table, only that one was bigger. It was made from various kinds of old looking purple and lavender fabric stitched together, each embroidered with blue or orange strings and some beads sewn in between. A beaded bobble was attached at the bottom and the cords of a dark, bluish lilac for closing it ended in some more purple beads Somehow it looked like it could have been made by Luna, on one of her less crazy days.

Behind it, he built a wall of flasks, bottles and glasses filled with different potions and ingredients – and some glasses of salt and sugar and herbs and spices for drinking and cooking purpose – a fine number of tins, pickle, flour, a sack of potatoes, a ton of crisp bread, muesli for a month and what appeared to be the biggest amount of apples the table had ever met with. He really had considered the journey that lied ahead her much more than she had. While she had worried about what lecture would be great to use for solving tricky situations and clothes for every weather without needing to hire a number of Sherpas, he had concentrated on things that couldn't be cared for with magic actually. Because, now that she thought about it again, she could just enlarge a thick rug to the size of a proper tent and transfigure leaves to such things as beds and laundry, if she couldn't manage to get hold of the Weasleys' tent.

"I don't reckon, you discovered the spell yet?", she shook her head in honesty. "Well, then you will learn it now. But beware – it isn't easy to get the details right.", he summoned some plastic bags from a kitchen drawer. "You will first try to make it work properly on at least three of those, before I can let you try on the pouch. You have the whole day. But by tomorrow you must leave. Your parents will be home when tomorrow?"

"For five o'clock tea. Enough time for me to say goodbye."

"Good. They won't be safe here, you know that. Once the Ministry is down, they will be tracked. And killed.", she curled her lips when he did. "That _mustn't_ happen."

"I know.", Hermione swallowed, whether it was due to the awareness of what was going to happen sinking in or because she didn't get how he could just move forward strictly focused after having lost someone so close.

"This will ask the most of you, I am aware of that. But – "

"What shall I do?"

"They will be tortured and killed for the mere fact of being _your_ parents.", he took a deep breath. "They cannot be your parents any longer."

"I am not – ", she slightly shook her head, figuring. "No. No! I am not going to – I won't – "

"Listen, Hermione.", he grabbed her hand with both of his in a flash, causing her to gasp from the surprise, yet more because the invisible barrier appeared to have vanished and the touch set her heart on fire, instantly melting her lungs to a lump. "They need to be safe. You must make them forget that they are your parents. They must forget their identity and – they must desire to live far away. Far, far, far away from here. The other side of the world, if possible. They have to take everything from this house with them. I already confunded people at a relocation service to arrive by seven o'clock and follow their orders to bring the stuff to the airport and onto whichever plane they booked. They must be on the plane by midnight."

If he had already confunded a number of workers to arrive by a specific time, why had he even asked when her parents would come home? What if she had provided him a time beyond that limit? It confused her, but the confusion was not enough to shrink the growing knot in her throat, however, not by her still burning heart, but by the certainty that she would have to erase her whole existence from her parents' minds. How could he possibly believe her to be able to do that? She knew she could do it, but he was talking about her parents, no less! She was to erase her own origin, to destroy her identity, to wipe herself from the memories of the very people who had given birth to her – who had created her by their love – it would practically mean killing herself while still living on!

"No.", she moaned, close to tears, still shaking her head.

"Do you want to save them or not?", he urged. "I know you can do that. I know you are able to alter their memories in such a way. Ban your existence from their heads – from this houses – from everywhere in this village, before you go to the Portkey."

"Why can't you do _that_ as well?", she knew the answer already.

"Because they are _your_ parents and you know their memories better and therefore also know better how to restore them once this war is over. Hermione. If I had been given any chance – any foresight – any single way to save my parents from dying – I would have given _everything_. It is in your hands. Take that chance. Grab it _now_. You only have that one."

"I – how long will you stay?"

"Only for breakfast. Then I have to make sure to get the Malfoys out of the way. That might take me the entire day, so I unfortunately cannot assist you. Hermione, I just want the best for you and your parents. So _please_ – "

Voices were ringing in her head as he spoke and long after. _This must be kept a secret as long as it takes Harry to become more powerful than that wand..If you truly love, you will have to abandon_. Abandon. How charming. _Coward_. Her own voice now. _You cannot kill my queen! As a matter of fact, I can.._ _Luck?_ Slughorn's chuckle. _That was great talent, Miss Granger presented us with!..My parents are dead, Professor._ _I wouldn't mind some booze so I could raise my glass on them.. That is kind of you. But you don't need to worry about me._ Vervain. _Vervain.. If you truly love, you will have to abandon.._ such a cruel line. She still couldn't believe how he could have ever made it his philosophy.

 _They are always with me..always..always..always with me.. Did you ever jump into water? Only as a child.. As a child, I used to sleep on roofs in summer.. I was free.. I was free as a bird_.. _Our friendship was breaking every unwritten rule_.. _No one must know..it is crucial.. This is war, Hermione..If you truly love, you will have to abandon.. For a greater good.. Why did you do that? Why did you – Save your arse? Maybe because I'm your friend and believe you would do the same?.. You think she'd be more relaxed if she knew you have sex with Snape?.. So something's going to happen?..Yes..Something horrible?..Yes..But it's part of a plan? Dumbledore's plan?..Yes. But I'm not allowed to tell. No one must know..Speak to no one.. I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other.._ He had broken up. He had broken up with her to save her _. If you truly love, you will have to abandon. If you truly love..abandon..abandon..let go..let –_

"Okay.", she aspirated, still curling her lips. "I – I'll do it."

~~#~~

His cloak fluttered around the corner. Time was rare. And the time that was, was merciless. Tick-tock, tick-tock. _He_ was merciless. _He_ was – that would be too bad even considering it. But _he_ – was the only one who could give time now.

The cloak still waved when he stopped in the middle of the empty hall, facing the high windows he had cleaned some days ago. The rain had stained them again, but the same sun was shining in. Midday sun. Tick-tock. The old pendulum clock at the wall. Tick-tock. Time was running. He swallowed down the taste of the toothpaste.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. He pulled his wand and put it into his other sleeve. Then he unbuttoned the left and pushed it back, staring at the black lines, forming a long snake that wound out of a skull. His look was confident. It _had_ to be confident. Especially since he wanted nothing but drilling his fingers into those red eyes to see them become redder than ever, to hear that _one_ scream of agony that might remain a sole desire. Shortly closing his own eyes, he concentrated and laid his flat hand on the Mark. There was a rushing sound behind. Quiet bare feet. A cloak coming to rest. He buttoned his shirt and robe again, not turning an inch as the pale snake-like face came moving around him with a confused but hateful sneer.

"Why?", he hissed very low. "Why you? Why do you call me at the eleventh hour, Severus? Not so sure about the date anymore?"

"Date and time are clear, my Lord. It is settled. Today, at nightfall."

"So why _then_ , Severus?"

"It is the Malfoys I would like to speak to you about, my Lord."

"The – what about the owners of this noble, yet withering house?", they stood face to face, blank eyes meeting.

"You still need them."

"Oh yes, I probably might.", the sarcasm was almost touchable.

"Then be wise."

"You question my wisdom, Severus? Mine? You question the Dark Lord's wisdom? You? So much younger than me?"

"In this particular case, yes. You cannot possibly be foolish enough meaning them to take part in the chase. They would ruin everything, my Lord. They are too weak for fighting these days."

"Ah – there certainly is some truth to these words, yes.", his anger about his point of view being minor, visibly vanished. "I have seen them becoming weaker and weaker. What is it that you – request?"

"Not a request. Only a decision that benefits you. Keep in mind, my Lord, that the boy is well protected. Tonight's endeavour will not be an easy one. Do not be too sure of yourself. The best fighters of the Order will guard him."

"So you expect me to fail, Severus? You _do_ question my abilities? As well?"

"Of course not, my Lord.", he continued calmly. "Neither. But you must recall, that attacking him in such ways has failed several times in the past. You would rather have another ace in the hole. The Malfoys are excellent fighters, just not at the present moment. Grant them recovery. Allow me to bring them away from this house. This house makes them sick. They must regain strength, but they cannot do that within these walls. The only way I see for you to kill the boy is to unleash our full forces on our enemies."

"Meaning?"

"There has to be a battle somewhen; I am afraid, this is unavoidable. I unfortunately see too much valuable and pure blood spilt, but I can not think of another supposedly effective way that has not failed already, and if it was only in the planning state. I ensure you, no blood will be wasted in the end; the cause will be of such a scale you would not be able to imagine the actual result in your wildest assumptions, or even be able to believe. But in order to end this frustrating campaign, you will have to let the armies clash. The distraction will be your chance to walk straight through and finish it once and for all. Yet for said battle, all three of them would be needed to fight. For the victory in such a battle, skills like theirs are not expendable. Tonight, I am afraid, we will only get to weaken our opponents."

"I do not know why,", Voldemort murmured, "But you have an extraordinary talent to persuade me, Severus."

"I feel honoured to hear that, my Lord, though you must see that it is not at all my intention to persuade or influence you in any way, but to provide advice you then may consider in whichever manner preferable."

"And again I see the truth speaking from your eyes.", he raised the corner of his lipless mouth. "You truly are a clever mind, Severus, yes. So you wish me to let you – take them away?"

"I do not wish. I merely suggest myself to get them out of your way so you need not looking at their pitiful wrecks until they are back at their best."

"Very well, Severus. You may do whatever you think is necessary. But – ", he put on a pathetic grimace, much like Bellatrix Lestrange would have and continued with a flat, hissing moan, "Just don't take too long.", his look was straight and cold again. "I await your punctuality."

A fluttering noise, a whirl of black clothes and pale skin and he was gone. For a moment, Severus stared at the spot where his eyes had been, so close but yet too far away to crush. Then he took a deep breath, put his wand into its respective sleeve and walked back to the door, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. At the door he stopped and held it to the left, but spoke to the staircase instead.

" _Don't_ vomit inside, Draco. It has got an undetectable extension charm on. You will never be able to clean it and I only have three at the moment. Pack your things in there rather. We are going on vacation."

"You – "

"You never learn how to eavesdrop without being noticed, do you?", Severus rolled his eyes.

"I – "

"Stop trying to find words. Pack. There isn't much time."

"My parents – "

"Are in the kitchen, I know."

Still bewildered, Draco took the yellow plastic bag and hurried to his room, throwing a glance after Severus who went downstairs.

"Draco – who is it? Who came? Why was _he_ summoned?", Lucius aspirated, half turning around.

"It isn't Draco.", Narcissa gasped. "You are back again? What – ", now Lucius completed his turn.

"Severus – "

"Hello.", he frowned. "It seems, I missed the party?"

"A rather pathetic one.", Lucius chuckled limply to his already empty plate. "Where is Draco?"

"Packing."

"P-?"

"Since you have noticed that I called for him – "

"Yes, I did. Why?"

"He has permitted me to take you away from here, to a better place. You will not take part in the chase today.", while Lucius seemed confused, Narcissa nearly collapsed into her chair with relief.

"B-better place?"

"Away from this death-reeking house."

"How did you make him – ", Narcissa started but broke off when he gave her an unambiguous smile. "Thank you.", she jumped up and cleaned the kitchen with a wave of her wand, "Come, Lucius. We pack.", and helped her husband to his feet.

"What is this?", Lucius leant on the walking stick he had magically glued the silver snake head to after Voldemort had snapped off the wand and stared at the red and black bags Severus offered them.

"Forgive me, that is the only thing I could get quickly when I was buying food.", he lied. "They hold an undetectable extension charm. Put your things in there. And quicker than my mother did. I'm not so sure whether he doesn't come back to tell me he's changed his mind."

"For how long will we be off?"

"At least a month, I'd say."

"A – month?"

"Or however long you need to stay away from here.", Narcissa took the bags from him. "Come on."

Severus laid his hand on Lucius' shoulder and they flew upstairs in a big mass of black fog. He dropped them in front of their room and went over to Draco's. The boy already sat on his bed, his hair combed and the slim, black suit adjusted. In his hands, the seeming slightly filled bag and his wand. Severus raised an eyebrow. He had totally emptied out the big room, leaving only the furniture. Even the blanket and pillows were gone from the four-poster and the fluffy old carpet he had known to lie on the floor beside had vanished as well. When he entered, Draco gazed up at him, looking tired but ready. Severus let his eyes drift through the room again, stopping at the single high window in it.

"Where will we go?", Draco had stood up.

"You will see.", he offered his arm and escorted the boy out, the hand gently resting against his back as they walked over to his parents' room.

"Narcissa's in the bathroom.", Lucius mumbled to them, still packing. "Oh – and back already."

"I got everything. Lucius?"

"Second – ", he limped over to a shelf and took out some books. "Now we can go."

"We need to leave the grounds walking before we can Apparate. Otherwise he will know where we go.", Severus told them when they went back downstairs.

Striding past two white peacocks, they approached the huge iron gate, the sun shining on their heads, disappearing behind some clouds though every few feet they covered. Severus waved his wand and they walked straight through the gate, the bars and spirals firmly moving back into place when they had passed. Lucius was the only one who looked back to the high, sharp roofs and rows of windows, many of them hidden behind neat, tall, green hedges. Wands and knotted bags and the walking stick clutched tight, they tried to hold on to each other's hands. Then they were gone silently.

A dramatic change of air. Clean. Moist. Green mountains rising evenly around the wide lake banks of little stones reaching flatly into the nearly plain, mirroring water. The soft cool breeze created small waves on the surface, a cloud-hung sky above them. Severus let go and walked a little ahead. With interest, they watched him fly in a very wide circle over the water, the shore, around a deserted but intact house, over some trees farther away and back to the water, accompanied by humming noises of the shields and repelling spells he cast. Only the breeze was left again, when he landed in front of the wooden two-storey house with veranda. It was standing offside the pebble beach in short grass, never reached by the tide in the sea loch. He waited for the Malfoys to join him before he unlocked the door.

They entered a fairly big living room with a fireplace, small table, sitting room suite and some empty shelves. Right in front of the door was the staircase to the upper floor and to its right, the kitchen. There was also a laundry room under the stairs which they would discover later. He led them upstairs. The house had a bathroom with tub, separate shower, basin, mirror and toilet. A wooden stool stood next to the tub. The inlet came directly from the crystal clear lake and the main pipe for hot water ran through beneath the fireplace. Sewage was no problem either, after all it had been a wizard's and witch's house. Two more rooms were upstairs: a bedroom with a large double bed and two wardrobes, as well as a study room, formerly holding a desk and shelves. Severus had exchanged the furniture in the latter with another wardrobe, two beds and nightstands in between them.

"Make yourselves at home.", Severus smiled, all four of them back in the upper corridor. "I will fill the fridge in the meantime."

Draco dropped the bag and wand on the left, wall-side bed and walked over to the windows. He pushed the soft green curtains away and opened the old frames, letting some fresh air in. From his room, he had a fair view along the beach. Standing at the front window, his pale, rather grey than blue eyes with dark rings around drifted over the lake and mountains, stunned by the beauty of the sight. The gentle wind sweeping in, brushed through the strands of light blond hair which was combed neatly to the side. His head turned to the bag, then the rest of his body. Giving the lake another glance, he went back to it and peered inside. Deep down, his books and clothes laid in a mess, all carelessly thrown in. The moment he saw that, he regretted the haste. A little annoyed, he dropped it and took his wand. His left hand glided over the thick hawthorn wood.

Letting out a sigh, he spun it to summon some of his clothes from of the bag, which he hung into the wardrobe, using the right side only. On the top board, he placed his shirts and underwear he had to re-fold. The shoes went below. He raised, closed the doors and startled.

"You can have the whole, if you need it. My luggage is a little better sorted than yours.", due to his pale skin, the blush on Draco's face could be spotted easily.

"I – don't really need much more space,"

"I got used to live from my pouch already. It is better for me this way than unpacking, sorting in and packing again.", Draco nodded sadly.

"I hope you don't mind that I – "

"It doesn't really matter to me which bed I take."

Draco shuffled to his chosen bed and sat down, Severus taking a seat on his own bed. They just sat there and stared at each other for about a minute.

"How is Pansy doing?"

"We broke up."

"I am sorry to hear."

"No need. We had too many differences."

"Why don't you admit that you didn't want to pull her into this whole thing?", Severus said calm and Draco looked away, curling his lips. "It is not a sin to care. After all, she _did_ care for you very much."

"But she would have gone even further.", Draco whispered. "My aunt's enough. I don't need another woman like this in my life."

"You think, that Pansy has the potential to become like Bellatrix?"

"You never know first what that Mark does to you, do you?", he still looked away.

"No, you don't. But I was aware of what I would have to do. I knew what was ahead of me. Or at least, almost."

"How can you do that? How can you be so cold? I mean, it was the only reason I didn't run away. You – somehow – stunned me – with that disregard of yours. I know you were good friends – I've seen you – spied on you – how do you do that? How do you make him believe you every single word you say? How do you – ", he looked back at him, "Control your eyes?"

"I know you did. And, it is a talent I inherited from my mother, which I learnt to refine."

"It's scary, when you do that. It's like you care as little as he does. It's like you are – as evil as him."

"But you know I am not."

"I do. Still it's – how can you live with that? How can you always swallow everything down like this?"

"What makes you think I can? What makes you think, I am less human than you are?"

"So how can you do that? What drives you?"

"Something very complex."

"That is?", Draco begged as if the answer could be the solution to all his problems.

"And you are as much a good spy as your son is, Lucius.", Draco's head turned to the open door, where his father had walked in after the call.

"I didn't mean to disturb you – ", he spoke quietly, his voice broken. "I – just wanted to ask – are you going to – stay with us?"

"Quite certainly, yes. But I will leave you for the course of the chase."

"Of course."

"I will be back latest for breakfast. Is there anything you need?"

"N-no. I – this place is wonderful.", a sad, rather forced smile flashed over his lips. "A little small – but at least not as empty as our manor. And – not as tight – as Azkaban.", he let out a strange chuckle, probably meaning to cheer himself up. "I'll be – downstairs then.", he shakily pointed over his shoulder and walked away.

"Can you teach me how to?", Draco said after the footsteps had deadened.

"How to what? How to control yourself? That is nothing that can be taught, Draco. You are a fantastic Occlumens. But as long as your mind cannot catch hold of your body on its own, I fear there is nothing I can do for you. I can't ask that much of you. I can _not_ – endorse your will to become like me.", he saw an entire city of hope collapsing behind the boy's eyes. "All I can do is to protect you from him as much as possible. The rest is your life and you'd be well advised not to decide following in my footsteps. Keep your innocence as long as possible, Draco."

~~#~~

Not believing his eyes when he found them sitting around the fire in an almost dark room again, staring into the flames, he carelessly threw his old broom into the corner, making all three of them jump in their armchairs.

"My goodness – you are back already?", Narcissa was astonished. "How did it go? What happened? We – they – felt he was – outraged – does that mean, the boy could escape?"

"Yes. He could escape."

"Who died?"

"Draco – ", his father gasped.

"Montgomery and Trolls got hit by Killing Curses, Orkney lost her wand when she was stunned and apparently fell into death. Many are badly wounded. I don't know whether Arbinian will survive the night."

"And – from the Order?", urged Draco.

"I – ", he took a deep breath, "Accidentally slashed George Weasley's ear and the Lord himself – granted Alastor Moody a new start.", there was a long silence, owned by the crackling of the fire.

"Mad-Eye Moody's dead?", Draco swallowed.

"Yes, even a great fighter's life can come to an end.", they looked each other straight in the eyes before Draco slipped back into his chair, staring at the fire.

"Draco.", his mother whispered, but he refused to take his eyes off the flames.

"Draco – ", Lucius started again, though his son jumped up and hurried upstairs, slamming the door of his new room.

"Lucius don't – ", Narcissa raised her hand, however, he had already pushed himself up – only to find himself held back by Severus' firm hand on the arm.

"I will handle that.", he said softly.

"But I'm his – "

"Sometimes there are things none of us wants to talk about with their parents.", Lucius just nodded awkwardly when Severus gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"About an hour ago – ", he stopped him at the stairs, "He made a Patronus.", Severus frowned back. "Just – out of mood – it – wasn't much more than light, but he did it non-verbally. I could have sworn to see some shape for a split second, but maybe I was just – amazed.", he chuckled in his very dull way he used to these days. "I thought you should know."

"Thank you. Go to bed. Both of you. Good night."

Almost silent he hurried upstairs, but knocked at the door before he entered. The decrescent half moon shone through the travelling clouds every now and then, plunging the dark room in a gloomy blue light. His shoes stood next to the bed on which Draco himself laid fully dressed and as straight as an ebony mast, his pale head and hands nearly melting with the white pillow and blanket. The breeze from the lake blew the curtains in, making them look like greenish spectres trying to escape the room, but eventually failing at the windows.

Severus closed the door behind, went to his bed, took off the cloak and folded it evenly. The same he did with his black robe. Suddenly the light on Draco's nightstand went on. He turned about and saw the boy pointing the wand in his left hand at the lamp, his face still on the ceiling though.

"In case you need it.", he mumbled, but Severus said nothing. "Do you need it?"

"You need it."

"That's not an answer."

"It is and you know it is the truth."

"Why?", Draco moaned when Severus unbuttoned his shirt. " _Why?_ ", he was already folding it. "Why does – _his_ – "

"Because you are not a monster, Draco.", he said calm, turned to the boy and threw the lavallière carelessly onto the bed. "Because you are human."

"I don't want to be human.", Draco turned his head to the ceiling once more when Severus made the three necessary steps to sit down at his side.

"Never.", he whispered. "Never, ever, say that again, Draco. _Never_ , you hear me?", he wrapped his fingers around the hand clutching the wand, causing him to look up. " _You are not a monster_. You are as much human as I am and that is not a crime. Crying because of somebody's death _is not a crime_. It is as normal as the need for a toilet when you drank too much. It is as necessary as going to sleep after a long and exhausting day. It is as important as breathing. Eating up your emotions, will shoot holes into your heart and you know from experience what it feels like to be close to dying."

"So why can you?"

"I can't. I can only suppress it for some time, but I can't swallow it down and forget it. Not such things. An unforeseen death is never pleasant. The only fairly pleasant death may be a desired one and still it can be hell to those who remain alive. It is no sin to cry and if I have to throw one of the house tables at his face to make him feel at least a tiny part of that pain a loving heart can suffer from.", a little smirk appeared on Draco's lips. "Alastor Moody was a great man and he fought for something that is worth fighting for. It is no sign of weakness to mourn for people like him. It is a sign of recognition. And it is a wonderful tribute to him if even those considered to be his enemies, are touched by his sudden absence from this life. Cry for him as much as you feel like. I will not stop you.", thick tears trickled from Draco's eyes, his lips trembling as he pressed them shut. "I have watched you all the time when you were unpacking.", the boy gasped, nearly choking.

"Y-you – "

"You are not a bad person, Draco. You just have seen rarely any beauty in your life. But unlike Tom Riddle, you are loved."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord.", Severus said calm.

"Damn. I tend to forget he was born to a pair of actual people."

"Certainly. He does his best for everyone to never consider the possibility. But, as I said, as opposed to him, you have ever been loved. Someone who has never experienced love, will also never be able to give it and that is sad. I feel sad for him. I started this with the will to end all that suffering and pain he causes, but over the most recent years, I have come to acknowledge that it is actually _he_ who suffers, without noticing it. I want to end his suffering, for the welfare of all."

"Why? W-what – m-makes y-you?"

"I. It is me who has given him a reason then, not aware what it would cause. I was so eager to bring him down that I did not think of the consequences. And now, a boy runs around out there, branded by him as his match – rescued by his mother's love – and doomed to be the only one with the abilities to end it. You know that, Draco. You know it is the truth. And I know that you don't hate him. Yes, you did, but those times are long gone. You hated him because of the attitude your father had taught you. You hated him in a time of peace. But now, in a time of hurt, of darkness and suffering, you had to admit that you couldn't care less for what has been.", Draco just gazed at the pouch and jewellery hanging in front of his bare chest. "Now that you have seen what actually counts in life, you hate yourself instead. That is only natural."

Severus let go of Draco's hand and opened the shrunken pouch, waving out a flask and a cup. He gave the cup another wave and slipped four drops of the potion into the clear water before he stored the flask again and gently placed the cup on Draco's nightstand. Then he went back to his bed and continued undressing, throwing his underpants and socks into the basket that had already stood in the wardrobe in his bedroom at Hogwarts. Draco sat up and watched him putting on Oxford blue pyjamas. Severus placed the neatly folded pile of clothes on the basket's lid and sat down, shoving his wand under the pillow.

"What do you do?"

"Keeping it safe."

"I didn't mean that."

"What then?"

"Sports, I mean. You – obviously work out a little."

"I wouldn't call it like this,", Severus sighed, "But I go swimming every now and then, do a lot of walking due to my night shifts, also walk around on the castle grounds if I feel the need to – and I climb."

"Climb?", Draco chuckled, wiped away his tears and pulled off his jacket. "What do you climb?"

"Trees – rocks – walls – merely and simply, things that can be climbed."

"Walls?", Draco chuckled again. "Not the walls of Hogwarts?"

"Are there any other walls you can find on the school grounds?"

"The- hey! That's one nasty reply,", he murmured and got up so he could undress properly as well.

"I thought, you have gotten used to such."

"I – ", he wanted to protest but decided to rather change his clothes as quick as possible.

"You will find that your mother has already put your toiletries in the bathroom. In case you need something, I am there."

He stood up and left Draco alone, but not even half through brushing his teeth, the boy stood behind him, looking at their reflections. Severus stepped left so he could join him. When he bent over the sink, Draco's eyes got stuck at his toothpaste. _For example, I smell – freshly mown grass and – new parchment and – spearmint – toothpaste._ He thought he was going mad. Had this small, meaningless, barely audible mumbled confession of hers actually got caught somewhere in the deepest convolutions of his brain and remained hidden there for such a long time? Hermione Granger was attracted to – spearmint toothpaste? And there it st- _had_ stood. He had put it back into his pouch.

Raising an eyebrow, Severus studied the boy's bewildered face, Draco only looking at him with his eyes, the face straight at the mirror. A trail of saliva and his own toothpaste ran from the left corner of his mouth.

"You – are leaking.", Severus noted with a bored murmur.

At an instant, Draco spluttered the mirror and basin, but mostly the mirror as he had failed to dive down in due time. Blushing heavily, he coughed into the white ceramic sink. He felt a gentle hand on his back, making him flush even more, choking.

"Just spit it out.", Severus sighed. "If you need help, give me a sign before you faint."

"Sorry.", Draco aspirate with a gargle. "I dunno what – "

"Why you were so evidently amazed by my toothpaste tube? Yes, I have heard people reporting on a strange, striking sensation emitting from such objects.", Draco's eyes gaped, still down where he was, trying to clear his mouth with water. "Normally I make it myself, but I felt the need for a try on that Muggle stuff, just in case I could discover some useful development. In short, I was lazy. Can you breathe?"

"Yes.", Draco came back up, contorting his face at the sight of the mess he had made.

"Don't worry about that.", the mirror, tiles and basin cleaned at a wave of Severus' hand.

Draco swallowed another time and went back to their bedroom. He was already in his bed when Severus closed the door behind and walked towards his own.

"What does it depend on?", Draco whispered, lying flat on his back once more, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders. "Sometimes you do simple magic with your wand and then you just use your hand. And then, you even deflect magic with your bare hands."

"It is a matter of my mood.", sighed Severus and crawled under his blanket, looking over to the boy. "And sometimes depending on the precise circumstances, as you might be able to guess. Your father told me that you managed to conjure a Patronus tonight."

"Thought he'd be ostentatious about it."

"No. He only mentioned it. But I won't deny having seen pride in his eyes."

"Tz."

"Yes, he is proud of you, Draco. He is proud that you are not a bad person. Better accept that.", the boy let out a grunt. "You can leave the light on, if you want."

"Why should I – "

"If you need another blanket, you just say. I can also close the windows, if it is too cold for you."

"I'm fine, thanks.", Draco huffed and gave the lamp a flick.

"In case you have forgotten – "

"I know. I can drink that stuff."

"Should you – "

"Stop mothering me, alright?", his head rushed towards Severus, cast in soft bluish light.

"I am not mothering you. I care for your welfare, Draco. That is all.", the boy only nodded slackly and rolled over, face on the wall. "Good night.", silence for some seconds.

"Goodnight."

~~#~~


	40. Chapter 39 - Acknowledging Facts

– Chapter 39 –

 **Acknowledging Facts**

Early morning light shone through the old windows of The Burrow. Eyes still half shut, she sat on one of the many totally differing chairs around the kitchen table. In front of her, a plastic bowl filled with some brown mixture, a spoon stuck into. Her head laid next to it, brown curls spread across the wood and her left arm dangled down beside the chair, fingers wrapped around the purple fabrics of her new pouch. In her right hand, a post-it note. Two short words. _Take care_. He had secretly made it before breakfast. That was the reason why he had insisted on being the only one opening the fridge.

Unlike he had said, he hadn't left until lunch. She wondered, how many goodbyes they would still have. Would she see him again before the end of the war? A bigger paper laid under her hand. More words written on it. _Answer only in an extreme emergency_. Both papers had been in the fridge along with the bowl.

Someone was coming down to the kitchen. Alarmed, she put the papers back into the pouch and sat up, though stared at the untouched surface of the cream. With a sigh, she picked the spoon and tried it. Very slow, her lips and tongue emptied the spoon, tasting every tiny detail of the utmost delicious cream. Her eyes got glassy. Ginny startled when she noticed her sitting there.

"Good morning!", Hermione only nodded at the call. "You're already at breakfast?", a stiff chuckle as answer. "Are you alright?"

"How am I supposed to be."

"Yeah. After last night – ", she sat down to her right. "What's that in the bowl?"

"Dark chocolate and spearmint cream.", swallowed Hermione, sticking the spoon back in.

"You made it?", she said nothing, but gazed along the table. "Hermione?", a long pause. "Oh my goodness.", Ginny whispered, taking a short safety glance around the kitchen. "Don't say – _he_ made it? He – he did, didn't he? Hermione – talk to me – ", she only nodded. "Has he – ", Ginny aspirated quietly, "Has he visited you?", another nod. "Whow."

"He's been there all week.", Hermione mumbled.

"And?"

"And what?"

"I mean,", Ginny looked around again and took Hermione's right hand, "Now?", yes, what now.

"He'll go back to Hogwarts in September."

And she had no clue whether she would even see him ever again. What made her most frustrated, apart from occasionally mirroring her fingers when she had taken his hands, he hadn't touched her on his own. He had refused to kiss, let alone more. Every other touching she tried, he had managed to wind himself out of it. Maybe he had been right. She had no idea how it felt to actually lose someone.

"But – but they won't let him – they won't accept him – "

"They will have to.", Hermione sighed. "It's Voldemort's wish that he becomes Headmaster. What that one doesn't know however, Hogwarts has a complicated magical system for electing a Headmaster. Dumbledore already made him."

"He already _is_ Headmaster?"

"Yes. You know the rule, Ginny."

"I do.", she moaned. "Not acting too obvious."

"Exactly."

"I can't believe that this is all part of Dumbledore's plan. I mean, he _killed_ him!"

"But it is. Dumbledore was already dying from a curse."

"Oh. I knew there was something wrong about that hand,", Ginny understood.

"Yes."

"But he attacked George – "

"I bet, that was an accident."

"You _bet_.", snorted Ginny.

"He hasn't exactly dropped me a note, reading ` _Sorry for that, bad aim_ ´!", Hermione hissed, downright mad.

"Alright!", Ginny growled back. "But I mean, it'll always be accidents when he hurts someone, not?", that could _really_ reduce Hermione's fury.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. I was just saying, you tend to make excuses for him,"

"I know, he's not a saint, okay?"

"Good. Because he isn't.", Ginny agreed, almost conceited, and after some seconds, the two shared a quiet laugh.

"Want a try?", Hermione nodded on the bowl.

"No, thanks. It's yours."

"You won't regret.", she smirked and offered her a spoonful.

"Oh me gosh!", Ginny munched, her eyes gaping. "I'd luv 'im too fer that.", that made Hermione giggle a bit. "Incredible.", she swallowed the rest, not being the only one who heard the noisy footsteps on the stairs. "He really made that?"

"Yes.", Hermione grinned.

"Wow. That's just – wow. Even better than at Hogwarts."

"Yeah.", Hermione also took another spoonful.

"Morn' you two!", Ron chuckled. "How come, you're already up?"

"It's a bright, shiny day.", Ginny said with confident boredom.

"Yeah. Sure."

"How come, _you_ are already up?"

"Harry snored me from a nice dream."

"Harry. Woke _you_ up. With _snoring_. Rather it was yourself, Ron.", his sister huffed.

"Nope, it was Harry. What's that, Hermione?", he had sat down on her left, looking into the bowl.

"Mine.", she replied grim and embraced it.

"You let me try?"

"No.", she pulled it even closer, Ginny helping her a bit.

"But you let her?", he nodded shortly to his sister.

"Yes."

"Kinda unfair, don't you think?"

"No.", the girls said together, looking as if they could strangle him at once, but seeming to have doubt whether it wasn't better to let him and protect the bowl instead.

"Bloody hell!"

"Oh good morning, you three.", Mrs Weasley sang as she entered the kitchen as well, but her tired, sad eyes couldn't make her smile fully convincing.

"Morning, Mum."

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley."

"What have you got there, dear?", she frowned. "A little early for chocolate cream, is it?"

"No.", Hermione said instantly.

"Fine. But you should have some proper breakfast. I really need to have a word with Remus. He does have a little too much influence on you lot.", Hermione sighed, nodded and put the lid back on the plastic bowl, storing it away in her small bag under interested stares of the others.

"How'd you do that?", Ron coughed.

"I – just put it in?"

"But it's – how does that fit in there?"

"It does, as you see.", Hermione snorted, remembering that he hadn't been as surprised when they all had fitted into that tent during the Quidditch World Cup.

"Wicked."

"One would think you should know her after all these years.", Ginny snarled. "Honestly."

More footsteps. The four of them stared at the miserably looking figure that appeared, already in one of his shabby brown suits. His greying hair was uncombed and greasy though and dark rings laid under his eyes. They could tell he had been crying.

"Good morning.", he mumbled, then spotted Hermione and was wide awake. "Oh. You're up.", it sounded more like he was talking to himself.

"Good, morning, Remus. Try to wake up fast, because we need to talk."

"Do you mind if I have a word with Hermione first, Molly?"

"I was already wondering when you'd say that."

Hermione sighed again, grabbed her pouch and wand and followed him back upstairs to Ginny's room, which he politely let her enter first and locked the door behind them. Hermione could hear him whispering ` _Muffliato_ ´ at the door.

"He invented that, if you bother knowing."

"Pardon?"

"That spell.", she said. "There is a great chance that he invented it."

"Hermione,"

"Believe me, there is.", she broke him off and watched him take the chair in front of Ginny's desk, sitting down. "Listen, Remus."

"No, you listen."

" _You_ listen to me!", her tone slightly surprised her as well when she saw the shock on his face. "I know what you are going to tell me, and you won't like that, but there are only two words I can give you. _Trust him_."

"Hermione, you are blinded by your love for him. That is blindness in vain."

"No, you are blinded by your self-hatred for something that isn't even true."

"He killed Dumbledore!"

"Surprise, I won't controvert.", Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.

"And attacked George and me! George has lost – "

"I know what he lost! A lousy ear, ha, ha, what a loss."

"What the – "

"Now, was there anybody else around?"

"It was a goddamned battle!"

"So, was there someone else in your close surrounding? Another Death Eater, perhaps?"

"Her-"

"There."

"No, you – "

"He wasn't attacking you, he attacked that Death Eater."

"Do you know how recklessly silly this sounds?"

"He tried to save your life, you daft dimbo!"

"That's enough!", he was on his feet again. "Do you even know the meaning – "

"But missed his target!", Hermione ignored him.

"Pathetic! And I asked you – "

"Yes!", she snorted, causing him to falter for a moment.

"Fine! But just being in a very similar situation as I am, doesn't give you the right to treat me like one of your school friends!"

"They're no school friends anymore, if it interests you! I won't go back to Hogwarts! And besides, you are wrong! Our situation is not _nearly_ similar!"

There was a drab moment of silence. Completely taken aback, Remus only eyeballed her. Then he took a deep breath and sat back down, waving his hand at the bed.

"No, thank you, I rather stand."

"Alright, but you know that you got to explain to me. Of course I understand that you might not want to return to a Hogwarts without Dumbledore. I wouldn't either in your place. But what do you mean by `not nearly similar´?"

"Do you love him?"

"I thought, I did. Now I'm not so sure anymore. Even though my stupid body still refuses to listen to my wit."

"Normally I should say now that your wit should listen to your body, but I won't. It's actually better this way because he will never be able to give you what you want anyway."

"He made that clear to me, more than once.", Remus noted.

"There you got it. He's straight to the bone – "

"Yet not necessarily to the boner,", he mumbled under his breath.

"And when he feels something for someone, that emotion can hardly be shattered by anything. He'd rather die."

"I know. It is incredible how much he must have loved Lily.", sighed Remus. "But you really shouldn't be so sure about that _straight-to-the-bone_ -thing.", he added so quiet again it would have needed a miracle to make her hear it.

"Good. So you have seen his Patronus. Have you seen the full?"

"Full?"

"The _Twins_?"

"Yes.", Remus sighed another time.

"Proof enough that my love is not `in vain´, not? Which, for your information, is a very cruel thing to say."

"Oh I am sorry. You are right. I shouldn't have _insulted love_.", he growled.

"That is not a joke, Remus!", Hermione warned.

"Listen, like you, I have never expected him to be a potential killer."

"Well, I have."

"So it is quite natural that you defend him – second – what?", he murmured with his brows narrowing.

"Forgive me, Severus.", she shortly sighed to the window. "I said, I have.", her look was back on Remus. "Yes, it took me a long time to accept what I have seen or heard and even a while after he openly spoke about it, but I can comprehend and accept his motives."

"He _told_ you _what_?"

"You heard me right. He told me that he's already killed some people.", Remus brushed a hand through his hair, his mind clearly shaken.

"You – no – "

"I _what_. Remus – I know things about him that would make hair of yours stand straight which you aren't aware of possessing. I have known some of those things even before we fell in love; long before we became a couple. So don't tell me, I am blinded by love."

"Which are?", he had composed himself.

"Sorry, but that is private.", Hermione said curtly.

"Priv- you want me to believe you, but refuse to tell me what you know? Why? How can you possibly think I – "

"Because I swore, not to. I already told you too much, to be honest. Now, if you excuse me, I am hungry.", she pointed her wand at the door. "And if you let slip through at any moment of your life what our conversation here was about, so _help, you, god_."

~~#~~

The shower had done him good and strangely the effect still lasted after breakfast. They sat together in the small kitchen, flooded with soft morning light. There were still thick clouds hanging on the sky but the area around the sun was bared most of the time. That created a mysterious atmosphere outside the house, making the short grass and leaves in the few trees seem to glow and the mirroring lake glisten. Distinctive shadows fell on the slope, green mountains around the lake. It seemed it would become a warm day and they had agreed to spend it rather outside on the veranda. Even Lucius looked like he had had a good sleep.

When he had gotten up earliest, Severus had noticed that Draco hadn't drunk the potion at all, but still had slept well. Though he had considered better not to mention the fact. Deeply in thoughts, he scratched his neck under the loosely opened collar of his white shirt, Draco's gaping eyes rushing onto him. That tore him from his mind.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing.", the boy aspirated and looked away.

"Well, shall we?", he sang; the following mumble of approval had nothing lively to it though.

Five minutes later, they already sat on the veranda, gazing over the lake, Lucius being the only one in a rocking chair. He teetered back and forth, very quietly humming incoherent tones.

"Dad.", Draco moaned.

"What?", he startled.

"You're doing it again."

"Oh – sorry."

"Let him.", Severus smiled, but Draco sighed and stood up.

"I'm back in a minute.", he took the three steps down in between the banisters.

His hands in the pockets of his black trousers, he walked over the short grass, towards the shore, stopping a few hands away from the clear water. The breeze was even lower than when they had arrived and it was a bit warm as well, even though it was around nine o'clock. His black shirt hung sloppily down. But today he didn't care. Even he, who normally had his clothes straight and neat. It wasn't necessary at all and the laziness didn't feel bad either.

Not until he came to halt at his left, Draco noticed that Severus had raised and joined him. For a minute, they just stood there and silenced at the lake. Then, Draco dared to ask the question that had almost killed him the evening before.

"Why _spearmint_ toothpaste?"

"Why white pyjamas?", Severus sighed.

"Why blue ones?"

"Why Hugh Asterley?"

"Why do you look at my books?", Draco moaned.

"Why do you place them on your nightstand so openly?", Severus winked, though not looking at him.

"Why do you live from that pouch?", continued Draco, rather bored.

"Why didn't you need the sleeping potion tonight?"

"Why do you answer with questions?", he moaned once more.

"Why do you ask like Parvati Patil?"

"I don't!", he protested.

"You do."

"What's in that locket?"

"Why did you decide to become a Death Eater?"

"Why Hermione Granger?"

"What?", Severus hissed, his head zooming at Draco.

"Why did she hold your lessons that day in January? You know, Monday after the meeting.", Severus sighed and stared at the mirror-like water again.

"I feared, she would actually kill me in front of that class if I didn't allow her to help me."

"What?", Draco chuckled.

"Now it is out.", he grumbled, on the edge. "Be happy with the truth."

"What's this place here?"

"Loch Etive."

"Loch who?", the boy murmured, making him smile.

"Loch Etive. A sea loch in the fjords of middle west Scotland."

"Never heard about that place."

"Now you have. And it is only about twenty-six miles in beeline south-east to Hogwarts."

"Oh.", Draco chuckled. "There aren't many people living here, are there?"

"In the area we are, not a single person since this house was abandoned."

"How big is it?"

"I didn't measure the walls."

"I meant the lake,", Draco grunted, making Severus snicker through his closed lips with a cheeky smile at said water.

"Twenty miles long, about a mile broad and up to six hundred feet deep. It goes north east to south west and bends straight west in the middle."

"I – actually didn't expect you to know _that_ much about this thing,", aspirated Draco.

"Surprise, surprise. I tend to do research on the places I visit. After all I don't want to die by Apparating onto the wrong spot."

"Have you been here often?"

"Quite a number of times. I played with the thought of hiking it all along, though unfortunately the holidays ever turned out to be too short for that and so, I never managed to. Not a single time in seventeen years of teaching."

"You said, it issues into the sea?"

"Yes. Have you ever been to the sea?"

"No. I've never been anywhere, actually. It's always been that manor. It's always been the house. The first other thing I saw was Diagon Alley. I don't even know what the rest of London looks like, apart from Kings Cross Station.", with every word he spoke, anger rose in Draco's chest. "I've done Side-Along Apparition when I was eleven. We went directly to Kings Cross. The first time I've seen some landscape, was on the train. Then it was just Hogwarts, the train, Kings Cross and the manor again. Hogsmeade's been the first village I visited. The only time I've been out of those places was for that damn Quidditch World Cup.", he snorted. "Not much of a repay, is it? If I wasn't such a ruddy coward, I'd go back right now and strangle him."

"Draco,", Severus warned, more than just concerned – he in fact expected to need holding him back. "Calm down. Your father loves you. He cares for you."

"He imprisoned me!", the words echoed over the lake, making his parents startle in their chairs.

"Keep your voice down, Draco.", hissed Severus.

"I mean, what kind of love is that? I don't need that sort of care.", tears gathered in his eyes, tears of both fury and depression. "The only – _friends_ – I ever had were those at Hogwarts."

"It took me almost a decade of my life to find myself a friend."

"Well, that's better than what I had.", Draco panted.

"The _only_ friend I had until I met Regulus or your father and the friendship between me and the latter didn't really develop until the Dark Lord was defeated for the first time. The only sort of friend I have is Igor and he is far away."

"Yeah. He's dead, I know. But that's still better than what I have."

"Don't say it like you knew, Draco. Don't talk to me like you know what my life is like."

"By far better than mine. If you should ever have children, don't make the mistake my so-called father made. If _I_ should have children, I won't lock them away from the world. I will let them have a _life_.", Draco snarled. "Other than him, I will be a _real_ father."

"He _is_ a real father."

"Tz. He doesn't seem to me."

"What d'you expect? His only concern is your wellbeing, Draco. He only wants to keep you safe."

"Well, he did that, didn't he? I'm glad though, it wasn't a Gringotts vault. And what do you know about what a father feels like anyway?"

"Yes; he would have never done _that_ ; you know _nothing at all_ concerning a father's feelings and _you are still alive_ , aren't you?", Severus cajoled.

"I'd rather be dead than continuing living whatever this is supposed to be.", even Lucius jumped up when Severus seized Draco ferociously by his collar and dragged him into the water. "Hey! What're you doing?", the boy bridled but was unable to free himself. "Let me go! What the – ?"

He pulled him all the way in until the surface reached their hips. Then he pushed Draco over and pressed his chest under water, face up. Splashing with his legs, he struggled to break from the firm grip, running out of breath after a few seconds by his panic.

"Severus!", Lucius screamed, staggering against the banister.

Narcissa had thrown away her high shoes and was running at full speed towards the two, not caring about the pain the stones caused in her feet or that she might stumble over her long dress. Draco's view got darker. He choked. What neither knew, Severus' throat tightened more with every waft of air deprived from Draco's lungs. The image in front of his eyes was already tremendously blurred when the boy's attempts became flaccid. Then, a rush of fresh air filled their lungs and Draco gasped, spitting. Narcissa slowed down, her hands on her head. Severus held the teenager up straight by his shoulders. While he still spluttered and panted, he slowly started crying.

"What – was that – for?", he whimpered. "Want to – kill me – or what?"

"Now say that again, Draco.", his entire face was taut with anger, yet his voice was calm.

"What?", Draco moaned, thick tears mixing with the water dripping from his blond hair.

"Tell me again!", he said clear enough that Lucius, who still leant on the banister, heard it as well. "Tell me just once again, that you would rather like to be dead than living your life! Either tell me, or look straight into your mother's eyes and say it to her! Come on! Say it!", he spat, Draco only shook his head. "Why not? You could say it before! Why not now? What is so difficult now? What is different? What has changed? What have I done that Harry hadn't managed to? It still is the same life, Draco Lucius Malfoy! _Your_ life! So why have you stopped wanting it to end, all of a sudden?"

Narcissa clapped her hands on her mouth, crying no less than her son. Lucius was close to slid to the wooden floor of the veranda.

"And besides, haven't you said on the tower that you had to carry out the plan because you fear he could kill you? What is this, Draco? Can't you decide? Can you not decide whether you would like to live or rather be dead?", Draco heavily shook his head, giving an utmost unsure-about-everything impression. "Well, then let me spare you the trouble of running around years with that confusion. When we are born, a task is placed upon us and we will struggle most likely _a lifetime_ to fulfil it. Each and everyone's task is it, to live their life and learn from the events occurring in it. To learn from those things, as hard as it may be and make the best out of it, for everyone. Yes, I was close to give up. Many times in fact. So don't go on me with things like ` _you don't know_ ´, because _I do_. I know what it is like to run out of things that could make me want to live. But I have something worth living for. Fortunately I realised it before it was too late."

"And what?", Draco chuckled bleakly, a little surprised himself that he had been able to.

"That."

Severus pulled out the silver locket, opened it and showed him the two moving photos. Wiping his eyes dry, Draco tried to see them.

"She gave her life for our son, and _so will I_. If there is one thing that would make me want dying, then it is when it would be the only way to protect him.", Severus growled quietly, breathing as heavy as Draco, still holding him with his right hand. "So don't you ever dare to think again, that I have no idea what a father feels for his children.", he snapped the locket shut and tucked it back under his water sprinkled white shirt. "Never.", he added, sadness spreading in every fibre of his body.

Draco's shattered grey-blue eyes only stared into his. Then the boy broke into tears once more. Narcissa sank to the ground when he caressingly pulled her son close. Sitting, she gazed at the two figures standing waist-deep in the clear, cool water, the sun shining on them through between the thick clouds.

~~#~~

A flashing green light, another. Screams everywhere. A black mass hurried along the alley, staggering. Dead bodies on the ground, a crying girl sitting against the tree in the graveyard. People came running towards her, asking her whether she was alright. She just nodded, staring after the disappearing cloak.

"Are you sure, dear?", a woman asked but the girl nodded.

"Y-yes. T-they are – dead – aren't they?"

"Yes. Do you know who that was?"

"The Death Eater? No."

"Did he do something to you?"

"He – he saved me – ", the girl sobbed.

That was the last thing he heard in the distance. Panting heavily, his left hand pressed on his waist, he stumbled along the twilight bathed alley, towards one of the houses. A desperate flick of his wand and the garden door burst open. His view blurring, he tottered over the path to the front door, pressing the handle down. Locked. Of course. He pointed his wand on the lock and almost fell inside, slamming the door shut behind. Footsteps hurrying down from the upper floor. He ignored them, trying to walk over to the table in the big lit room that was living room, kitchen and dining place in one.

"Get out of my house!", the other man shouted, his wand directed on the fully masked Death Eater's chest.

A woman came running downstairs as well, holding her own wand ahead. When she saw the Death Eater's mask, she lowered the stick and stormed past her husband, flinging her arms around the supposed stranger's neck.

"Lily!", James gasped. "What the – "

"What are you doing here? You can't just break into our house and expect him to welcome you – what is – "

"Please.", he panted through the slits of the golden metal mask, ornamental lines engraved all over it.

"What?", she followed his eyes which looked down on his blood smeared hand. "Good god! What happened?", she now carried him over to the table, helping him to sit down.

"I was – a lil too slow."

"Lily! Who _is_ this? Why are you helping a Death Eater?"

"Keep your voice down, James.", Lily warned him. "You'll wake Harry. What happened? Who did this?", he still pressed his hand against the deep wound.

"A – "

"A?", she gently pushed his hood back and carefully pulled his mask off, revealing tears coming from his shadowed dark eyes.

"What?", James hissed, more to himself.

"Can you breathe?", Lily tried to move his hand away, but he was still a bit stronger.

"Hardly.", she started opening his high buttoned black robe and white shirt, finding the area of his stomach soaked with blood.

"Now take your hand away there.", he finally did, his eyes closing with relief when she started muttering the incantation, her wand moving over the wound.

"'Twas – a Snatcher."

"Snatcher?", Lily swallowed with concern when the wound had healed.

"When I 'eard on tha wireless tha' 'ey'd be seekin' tha village, I couldn' ignore it, could I?"

"And so you thought you'd just put on your mask and head after them? Didn't you expect any Death Eater could be with them?"

"They're always amon' 'emselves. I found 'em in tha graveyard, surroundin' tha Glencoe girl – 'ey were – 'bou' ter – couldn' le' 'em – "

"You killed them?", Lily aspirated, sinking to her knees next to him.

"They'd 'ave spread tha news, Lily. 'Twas tha only way. Unfortunately I was too slow. When I turned 'roun', one o' 'em – ", suddenly, like out of nowhere, the big ginger cat was there and jumped onto his lap, rolling in and purring immediately.

"Got you with a knife.", nodded Lily, watching him stroke the cat. "But hopefully no one saw – "

"I think a woman saw me mask. 'Eard 'er sayin' sum'thin' 'bou' a Death Eater when I ran away. Bu' they'll keep quie'. It doesn' 'appen too often tha' a Death Eater saves a Muggle-Born girl from Snatchers, does it?", he chuckled.

"Lily – what is this all – what does he say there – what – "

"Oh shu' up, James.", Lily snorted when Severus buttoned up his clothes again, cleaning and repairing them with a wave of his wand.

"No, I won't! Explain that! Now!", there was a cry upstairs.

"Wonderful.", huffed Lily. "I told you to be quiet.", she jumped up, but Severus held her back, lifted the heavy cat on his arms and stood up as well.

"I'll do tha'. Ye explain ev'rythin' ter 'im. 'E wouldn' believe me anyway, even though I 'oped 'e'd 'ave grown up.", Lily nodded approvingly.

"Breaking into our house and then thinking I will let you touch Harry? No way, Snape!", James raged. "And put down Kissy, will you?"

"Ge' ou' o' me way.", he said calm.

"I will not let a Death Eater – "

"I said, _get, out, of, my, way_.", he pushed him aside easily with his shoulder and ran up.

"Get back, you – "

"Drop it, for Heaven's sake.", Lily snarled.

He ignored their arguing. All he cared for was the boy's crying, hurting his heart like hundreds of spears being drilled into it. After he placed the cat on the floor and stuck his wand back into his sleeve, he gently opened the door to Harry's room. He laid in the cradle, sobbing heavily. Careful, Severus picked the baby up, tenderly stroking his wet cheek. Lying in his arms, the boy stared at him, his green eyes widely opened in horror, still crying noisily. Kissy roamed around Severus' legs.

"Sh, sh, sh.", Severus whispered. "Dun' cry. Everythin's all righ'. 'E din' mean it. 'E din' mean ter shou'. Sh. Everythin's fine. Dun' cry.", but Harry still chuckled with moans.

Rocking him, Severus walked around in the light blue room. After about a minute, his crying had reduced to sniffs. There was another yell downstairs and Harry started crying again. Angry, Severus marched over to the door and closed it. Then he continued pacing around, stroking the small boy's cheek, whereas the cat hopped onto the windowsill and watched him with its bronze eyes that nearly disappeared in the long ginger hair on its flat face. With James raging that much, Harry would never fall asleep by himself. He sighed, remembering what his mother had done to calm him down when he had cried as a child. Her voice in his head, he started singing the Gaelic song he recalled, quietly so it wouldn't hurt his son's ears.

"B hò, b hò. B hò, bà i ò ho bà.", he sang, smiling when the boy stopped sobbing, his eyes following the movement of the lips. "Cha bhi mise bhuat, cha bhi mise bhuat.", swaying as he stood, he watched the baby's lids blinking. "Cha bhi mise bhuat, mach air uair no dhà.", as slow as possible he walked back to the cradle. "B hò, b hò.", it got silent downstairs. "B hò, bà i ò ho bà.", there were footsteps but he didn't bother them. "Caidil thusa luaidh, caidil thusa luaidh.", as if understanding the words, Harry closed his eyes and his breathing calmed down. "Caidil thusa luaidh, is na gluais gu là.", the door was opened quietly and Lily peered in, James trying to look over her shoulder. "B hò, b hò. B hò, bà i ò ho bà."

Severus placed a soft kiss on the seven month old boy's still unscathed forehead, holding him a little tighter. His hand brushed through the short bundles of dark hair on his head. Only smiling, he watched the boy sleep, ignoring the two in the doorframe, not willing to turn around and see Lily's happy tears or James' disbelief. There was nothing that could take away this moment from him. Nothing. Not the greatest evil force on earth.

"What was her name?", Draco tore him from his memory.

Narcissa and Lucius were back in their chairs on the veranda. The other two sat on the shore, wrapped in big towels, a soft wind blowing into their hair. Draco's was almost dry again, the touch with the water having made his natural waves come out.

"Lily Miriam Evans.", Severus sadly smiled into distance; Draco nodded slightly, letting some seconds pass before he went on.

"Where is your son?"

"In a safe place."

"You knew exactly what you were doing, right? You – knew when to pull me – you – _felt it_ – "

"Yes.", Draco dreamingly took a stone, turned it a few pondering times, got up and threw it into the water, obviously having tried to make it bounce off the surface, but got it terribly wrong. "What was that?", Severus chuckled.

"I – don't know, I – once – snuck after Hagrid down to the Black Lake after a lesson. He threw some stones over the surface. I mean, they were huge, you know? Really huge and – they just – jumped over the water. I wonder how he did that.", Severus stood up as well and dropped his towel.

"You need to bend down."

"What?", the boy's head rushed at him.

"Take a very flat stone, as round as possible and – yes, that one will do.", he had spotted one, picked it and rubbed it dry, then showed Draco how to hold it in the hand. "You see, just like this. Then you go down, the lower, the better. This lake is absolutely great for Stone Skipping."

"It's – called like this? It – has a name?"

"Yes, it is called Stone Skipping."

"Oh."

"Now watch me. Just bend down and give it a little spin.", the stone jumped two times over the surface before it sunk in. "Oops. That was lame."

"Yeah. Hagrid's stones jumped no less than fifteen times."

"He is very strong, mind that.", Severus looked for some more stones and kept them in his left hand. "And some time has passed since I did it last.", he took one of the stones. "Perhaps, this one."

"Whow!", Draco laughed. "That was great! Nine jumps!"

"Five."

"What?"

"What you counted as four, was only sliding."

"Oh. But we'll say it was nine.", he smiled and looked out for another flat stone himself.

"That would be a cruel way of cheating.", Severus passed one of stones on as Draco didn't manage to find one.

"Come on. It's only stones.", the boy grinned mischievously, bending his knees and – failed again. "Ouch. Really shouldn't have said that, should I?"

"Do you actually expect to be a champion at your second try ever?", Severus smirked, utmost amused. "But probably, you should let go of the towel.", with a snort, the boy let it slip off and adjusted his legs. "Now t- yes – that's a good position. Now just bend down like this and – yes, that is better. Relax a bit. With that tension you will never get it right. Tension, yes, but the way you stand only causes aching muscles."

They stood sideways to the shoreline, Severus very close behind Draco, trying to get the teenager's posture right. He fiddled about his hand, bringing the fingers around the stone into the right position. Lucius had sat up and looked across the banister, studying them with great interest. His wife joined in, seconds later. They watched Severus showing Draco how to move his arm and when to let go of the stone.

Now he let Draco throw it. There was a loud cheer when the stone jumped. Only once though, but the boy was at the peak of happiness. Smiling wistfully, Lucius sank into his rocking chair, looking at Narcissa's back. She had gotten up and leaned onto the banister.

"He'd be a great father.", he aspirated.

"Yes, he would be.", his wife agreed with a smile at the two, trying to skip another stone. "It is a shame."

"Oh yes. I'm a terrible father."

"You are not.", she turned around.

"And he wouldn't be. But I am a father while he isn't. That isn't fair. Draco's better off with him."

"Don't say that, Lucius.", she sat down on his lap, stroking back his greasy blond hair. "You are a wonderful father."

"No! I mean, look at them!", he ignored her attempt.

"You – ", there was another cheer of Draco.

"Look at them and tell me I am a better father! Within an hour he has learned more from Severus than I could teach him in years!", Lucius moaned. "Don't say I am a good father!"

"You are.", she said softly and kissed him. "You are. In your own way."

~~#~~


	41. Chapter 40 - The Unspeakable

– Chapter 40 –

 **The Unspeakable**

They hadn't spoken a word since. Every time he had visited for reporting news, he had made several attempts to gain her attention, but only received a repelling huff or snort, making each of the others wonder what had happened between them.

At about half past five in the morning, Hermione woke up to some strange noise at the window. She silently yawned, stretched, sat up and rubbed her eyes. In one glance she checked the time on the old alarm clock beside her bed and Ginny's state. The other girl was still vast asleep, her widely open mouth directed to the ceiling, snoring very quiet. Hermione couldn't help recognising the similarity to her youngest brother's way of sleeping. Curling her lips, she looked at the window, where she found a fist knocking carefully at the glass in the dim morning twilight. It was a male fist and the owner obviously hung in mid air. Or was he hanging at the wall?

Eager to find out, she crawled out of her blanket and tiptoed over to Ginny's desk on which she climbed. Pressing her nose against the closed window, she peeked out. He was sitting on a broom. Unfortunately, it wasn't the man she had hoped for. Panting with frustration, she cautiously opened the window and hissed outside.

"What the heck are you doing here?"

"I was hoping for another private talk with you.", whispered Remus.

"And that's why you wake me at such a mad time, in such a mad way?"

"I know, it wasn't the cleverest thing to do, but it's important that we talk. Scrimgeour came by at Tonks' parents last week."

"What?"

With that, Hermione slid off the desk, searched for a pair of trainers, a coat, her wand as well as her pouch, put everything on as quick as she could and climbed onto the furniture again, the pouch around her shoulder being the only thing adequately in place. She then conjured a rope with knots, which she magically glued to the sill and climbed down on it. The rope gone and the window shut, she stared at Remus who had landed in front of her, a little confused.

"I could have flown you down,"

"I don't like brooms much.", Hermione snorted. "So? What did he want?"

"He was extraordinarily friendly, if I think about it. No word about Werewolves or such. Actually, he left me something."

"And what?"

"Can we go to the barn?", he pointed over to the distant hut. "Just in case, someone wakes up. I'm not sure whether Molly or Arthur feel when someone crosses the barrier."

"Alright.

Dew soaked her pyjama pants as they walked through the grass. The sky on the horizon was slowly becoming a little more colourful and the clouds hanging in the north were glowing eerily, hit by the first rays of sunlight. Creaking a little, the old wooden door opened as Remus approached it and Hermione followed him into the dark space. He closed the door behind, lit his wand and leaned the broom against a dusty shelf that carried piled up broken telephones. He didn't dare to open one of the shutters outside the closed windows of the big barn. Therefore, they sat down on crooked chairs, surrounded by dusty junk and – fust.

"Keep it short.", said Hermione and Remus nodded approvingly.

"I will try to.", he pulled something from his pocket that wasn't unfamiliar to her eyes. "He came to me because of Dumbledore's will."

"Dumbledore left you something as well?"

"As well?"

"That's why he came yesterday. Harry, Ron and I were mentioned in the will."

"Interesting. What did you get?"

"That is _our_ business."

"Hermione,"

"Ron got his Deluminator, he left Harry the Snitch Harry caught in his first game and I – got an old copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard."

"Why would he give you that?"

"You're asking like Scrimgeour.", she pouted. "It's a book, I like books. What did he leave you?"

"Fine, then not. And well, he actually left me something that he meant for you as well. It seems, he expected the Ministry to examine the stuff. So, open it.", he held the Mokeskin Pouch towards her.

"I can't."

"Oh, I am sure, you can. As I said, he meant it for both of us. I already gave it a go and I must say, I am surprised. That book you mentioned, is it written in runes?"

"How do you – ?"

"Just a guess.", Remus smirked. "So, since I am finally through with them. And since that took me several hours, I'm not wishing to see any of that another time. Therefore you can have the whole – package. I believe, you love him a little more than I do."

"What is – "

Hermione had finally pulled the small flat bowl from the pouch. It lifted from her hand instantly and floated over her lap, the lid opening. It was a small Pensieve, just big enough for one person to use at a time. The second thing the pouch contained, was a wooden box which she opened carefully. It held a fair number of shiny crystal flask, each of them keeping one of Dumbledore's memories safe. Immediately, she recognised the phial she had already held in hand: it was the memory through which she had gotten to know the specific book she could now call her own. She picked a different one. _Severus Snape insulting Lily Evans after James Potter attack_ , the label read.

"Oh yes. A rather unpleasant one.", sighed Remus. "I felt no need to watch that again.", Hermione gave him an annoyed look from below and put it back, finding the piece of parchment stuck behind the back row of phials. "Exactly.", he said as she took, unfolded and read it. "That is why I say, he meant it for you, rather than me."

"` _I must insist_ ´ – well, if not even dying can keep you from your fixations, I think, I should give in, shouldn't I?", she muttered to the letter, stuck it back in and pulled a certain flask.

"What is this one?", she held it up and turned it so Remus could read the label.

"Are you sure – you – ", aspirated the man.

"Dumbledore wanted to force me to watch it. I refused, quite successfully, I can say."

"It's not too delightful, you must know."

"Depends on the point of view, don't you think?"

"Very well, but I have to warn you, Hermione. This might not be pleasant for you to watch, considering that you see him as such an angel. Shows somewhat what a polite guy he was."

"I never saw him as an angel, merely as a person with a good heart that would sell his own grandmother for saving beloved ones."

"Alright then."

"Probably not his grandmother, but – ", she added muttering, but it wasn't heard.

"I haven't been there at first place and neither James nor Peter ever talked about it. Strange, considering that if it hadn't been for James and me, Peter wouldn't have been there even. It was the only exam they kept quiet about. Speaking about the most important, it really worried me; still, many years after. Now I know why."

Nevertheless Hermione placed the box on one of the barely free spots on a small dusty table to her right and poured the memory into the Pensieve. A last look at Remus and she dived her face in.

A heavy thunderstorm darkened the sky outside and all fires and candles were lit in the Great Hall. Hermione noticed after a few seconds that the candles had been moved up higher to give some extra space. The situation looked similar to the theoretical O.W.L. setting, only that the number of tables was reduced to three, lined up in front of the high Headmaster throne on the podium, in which Dumbledore sat lazily and stared straight through Hermione when she turned to look at the old man. There was another chair next to him, hosting a very young wizard with short brown hair that was topped by a contrite askew hat. The robe he wore was sewn together from differently coloured fabrics and was glittering all over, very much like the hat. He held his delicate wand up, creating rings of smoke while he talked to Dumbledore.

"Rather miserable, that Palvang girl, don't you think, Professor?"

"Oh, I bet, it was merely her nervousness, Harold. And even though you are Minister, it is on the Examinations Authority to judge her achievement, not on you.", Dumbledore noted.

"Alas, yes.", sighed the young Minister and watched Altheria Coveridge stand up and walk to the backdoor with a list in hand. "Let us see, if the following will do better."

"I believe, at least one might."

"You know who is next? Ah what do I ask, of course you can name _all_ of your students in alphabetical order, not only those who strangely made it to the top."

"Don't be so cynical – and for Heaven's sake, put away your wand or you might find yourself disarmed."

"Is this a threat?"

"I didn't say that _I_ will be the one to disarm you.", Dumbledore still avoided his look.

"All right, then.", huffed the Minister and slipped the stick into his own pocket.

"Mr Pettigrew to me,", Coveridge called outside, "Mr Potter to Professor Tofty and Mr Snape to Professor Marchbanks, if you would, please."

The unlike trio; though all wearing their complete uniform including the cloaks neatly; followed her, Wormtail scuffing ahead, clutching a knobby wand. He was horrible to look at, shrunken even smaller due to his anxiety, while James downright flounced into the hall, his wand in hand as well. Severus, after having closed the door behind, paced almost relaxed, though it looked way more elegant than James' strutting. Pettigrew hurried past Dumbledore, making it look like he fled from him and sat down on the left table, visibly glad that Coveridge started talking to him immediately. James took the table in the middle, on which Tofty blocked his view on Dumbledore and the Minister. Severus was last to sit down, very straight like she had seen him do as a child, his hands in his lap.

"If you would please put your hands on the table, Mr Snape,", Professor Marchbanks greeted softly and he followed her order, crossing his arms gently on the tabletop after having pulled his chair closer, so he could remain sitting straight. "Very well.", Hermione saw James suppressing a smirk fifteen feet away and she walked closer towards Severus, so she could hear them better, as all examiners lowered their voices. "I first like to start this exam with a few questions. You see, answering them on a paper is very different from doing it verbally and can tell far less about the personality of the witch or wizard, which is, in my opinion, very important to discover their strengths, rather than their lacks and since this is your last and; regarding the topic of your Thesis; most important exam in your schooling, I can gladly lay my thoughts on you open."

Severus had directed his dark eyes straight at the old woman, who still looked far younger than at Hermione's O.W.L.s, but knowing that she had watched Dumbledore himself taking his exam, made that fact unimportant to her. Something however, made her smirk to herself: Severus seemed to have washed his hair specifically for the exam and she wondered if he had been teased for that by James before entering the hall. But even though his face looked thinner than it did nowadays, she could still find nothing of the ugliness he had described. And he had obviously already gotten rid of his acne.

"So, Mr Snape, the three of us have of course read all theoretical exams as well and discussed them, as much as we discussed the practical exams. I have to admit, we had a lot of work, dealing with you; the reason might be obvious to you, I assume. It doesn't happen too often that a student takes nine N.E.W.T.s or even more, but more likely only load themselves with three, maximum four and having two students in one year that go further, is highly remarkable.", Severus' expression remained empty. "Very well, then. Can you tell me whether you had any difficulties in one of your N.E.W.T. exams?"

"I believe you said, Professor, that you were searching for _my strengths, rather than my lacks_.", he answered very much like a machine Hermione thought, but it cost Marchbanks a quiet laugh.

"Indeed, that is what I said, Mr Snape. Howev-"

"No, Madam. After all, I had two years to prepare myself to graduate in the subjects I liked most. The hardest task was to drop two subjects as _the_ _three of you_ refused to hold exams for only two people."

"Oh I am terribly sorry for that, dear.", sighed the woman and scratched her temple.

"I am not your ` _dear_ ´, Madam. Not at all."

"However. Then, as I have it here,", she tipped her wand at a folder beside her which opened, and pulled a sheet from it, "Your Head of House, Professor Slughorn; like with all others; has taken notes on the students' career aspirations in your O.W.L. year. What bothers me is, that he left most spaces blank on your respective sheets. Can you explain me why he might have done this?"

"Because I did not answer to his expectations, I assume."

"And what did you answer?"

"Basically, I highly believe, my message for him was that the course of time is far too complicated to predict, as to say two years before my graduation from this school, where life might lead me afterwards."

"An interesting thought, I have to agree. But any _ideas_ for an occupation? Now?"

"Whatever I might do, I would like to be a free man when doing it, making my own decisions."

"In short, taking down the Ministry and forming our society to your will?", she joked with a chuckle, but earned herself the first change in his look: to anger.

"That is, what would apply to another of Horace Slughorn's former students. Other than Tom Riddle, I cannot find pleasure in being defined by how many photos of me stand on my teacher's dusty shelf.", Marchbanks smile froze. "If he only knew that Professor Slughorn meanwhile removed all photographs of his,"

"So you know the true identity – "

"Professor Slughorn has revealed secrets of the Dark Lord's younger self to me he cannot even remember having told me at any time.", in the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Dumbledore straighten in his chair – he could obviously hear what was going on, even from the distance. "That is the unfortunate side of alcoholism and a reason why I never endorsed it, but I must admit, in some situations it can indeed come handy."

"Ah then,", Marchbanks swallowed heavily and put up a very artificial smile now, "A different topic, if you don't mind, Mr Snape?"

"I leave the topics entirely to you, Professor, and merely answer your questions, which is, so I guess, your will as well, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes.", she sighed and pulled another paper. "So, you are in fact an extraordinary student. Best marks in all your subjects, eleven O.W.L.s, all with an Outstanding, and now having taken nine N.E.W.T.s, which are so far, I must say – blowing my mind! If we had higher marks – ", she coughed to clear her throat, "You would indeed have at least half of the Ministry bowing to you, if you could succeed in this practical exam as well and – "

"I assure you, Madam, I have no intentions to fail at it.", Severus cut her, back blank after he had thrown her a faint smile.

"Oh yes, that would be very unlikely. Very unlikely for you, Mr Snape. Now, I have your theoretical exam here.", she took several sheets from the bottom of the folder. "Your answer on how to resist the Imperius Curse, ` _Constant vigilance_ ´ – ", that cost her a rather limp chuckle. "I remember having read exactly the same answer on exactly that question many years ago. Could it be, that you had contact with a man called Alastor; or these days better known as `Mad-Eye´; Moody?"

"Yes, it happened that he had paid Hogwarts a visit last year and I overheard a very interesting chat he had had with Professor Dumbledore. Mr Moody is an extremely intelligent and able Auror, I can tell. A little obsessed, but in my eyes a great role model for both young and old witches and wizards out there who wish to live and independent, safe life, no matter how chilling the air might be around them."

"Safe. Yes _surely_ his life is absolutely safe. So you would see him as an inspiration?", Marchbanks blinked

"Yes, I would."

"Interesting, interesting. And your way to stand against the Cruciatus Curse would be,", she searched for the question and pointed at it, "Ah yes, ` _Pressing one's teeth together, thinking about the weather and trying to stand still with one's eyes on the caster_ ´?"

"Exceptionally efficient."

"Have you been attacked with this curse?", she threw another dull chuckle.

"What does my answer tell you, Madam?", he countered ice cold and she shrunk a little.

"Would you – like to tell me – who – ", she moaned but was cut again.

"I am not a sneak."

"But this curse is illegal!"

"So is trying to use Legilimency on an examinee.", Marchbanks swallowed. "Yes, I can feel that. But how does it feel to you?"

"Stunning, I have to confess. It doesn't happen every day that I meet a seventeen year old who is so skilled at Occlumency."

"Eighteen, which you should know if you had read all papers in this folder. And do not dare to lie; I saw the image of my birth certificate flick up behind your eyes."

"Mr Snape!", she shrieked, gaining the attention of all others in the hall.

"Vengeance is very sweet, Professor.", sneered Severus. "Don't try to shatter if you cannot take being shattered yourself."

"Very well, I think we should drop that matter then.", her voice was back to the quiet tone from before.

"Oh yes, we should.", so remained his.

"I found your `solution against the curse with the incantation Avada Kedavra´ rather entertaining however. ` _Duck away if you can or try to be the first one to survive it_ ´ – absolutely right, of course. Most others would have written that there is none, but you consider at least the possibility. Very wise. Have you met with this one already as well?"

"A mouse has."

"A – mouse?", Marchbanks blinked.

"Ah, it seems, your Ministry failed to inform you. Well, then please consult Professor Altena concerning further information. Though I wouldn't expect an answer, she is too deeply in it – and I have no idea whether she is still alive even. After all she supported what the Dark Lord understands as, what was the phrase? ` _Reeking excrements in the shimmering hallway to wizards' glory´_ – "

"I beg your pardon?", the woman frowned.

"I am not the originator of this succession of words; but to return to our previous topic, the Ministry used to have a record on it until – ", he reached into a pocket of his trousers, "Last night.", he unfolded the red paper and placed it in front of her, flattening it with a malevolent smirk and a barely catchable flick of his right forefinger.

" _I beg your pardon?_ ", she alternately stared at him and the paper. "This is – a _real_ Ministry Record on the use of – _oh my goodness!_ ", she scanned a very long list on it.

"Some strange voice in my head believed, you might ask for it, and since it is about a rather rare achievement of mine, I thought, I should just borrow it specifically for this exam. They can have it back when I'm done. I don't need such a crap to remind me of the horrible smell in that cupboard."

"Mr Snape – ", she aspirated, gazing at him as though she had problems with seeing him clearly and Hermione could tell by a brief twitching that she had just resisted the urge to direct her alarmed look at Dumbledore as well.

"Now then, which other of my answers of this pathetically easy exam would you like to recite?"

"Ah yes, yes,", she hasted, shoving the red paper into the folder, "You seem to be – _believing_ , that a Patronus can remain even if the caster is angry. Your evidence?"

"I'd say, I just know."

"You _just_ know?", her blinking became more frequent and her brows raised even higher.

"Yes. And I also _believe_ to have written plenty enough about the matter in my Thesis. Next question."

"No, no, no, not at all!", Marchbanks sang, right when Tofty had gotten up with his examinee and walked further into the hall. "I would indeed like to hear your reasons!"

"And I would not like to tell you, Madam. You may read my Thesis, however."

"That is a three hundred pages volume!", she shrieked.

"Three hundred and ninety-four, as far as I am concerned; and I am very concerned about that, I think."

"So you can conjure a full body Patronus?"

"Since I was thirteen."

"Since you were thir– pardon? This is extremely high magic! And now you tell me, it is – "

But her eyes were on James Potter who had shouted an incantation, resulting in a gleeful reaction of Professor Tofty as a stag purely from light galloped through the hall and stopped at their empty table, where it turned towards Severus, huffed and galloped back to him, coming to halt at his side.

"Amazing, Mr Potter, amazing!", Tofty cheered and clapped. "Would you please – "

"Now how is that to you, Snivellus?", James cackled. "Beating your results? Have you ever managed to create mist even? Not so much striving to imitate Lily at this, aren't you? Too difficult, eh?"

"I must ask for a little behaviour, Mr Potter!", Marchbanks warned, standing up. "This is a governmental exam and accusations towards your colleagues are inappropriate at any rate!"

She waved at Severus, but noticed that he was on his feet as well, walking slowly around his chair and a couple of yards towards the two, though leaving still a huge space in between. Hermione followed him so she could see his expression. By the moment she arrived at his side, Severus swiftly pulled his black wand from his left sleeve, pointed it leisurely but calm at James and gave it a barely visible flick. James winced and the Patronus was gone. Blood trickled from his lower lip and he stared at Severus as if he was something extremely slimy with a disgusting reek. Hermione noticed that Pettigrew held his hand at his right shoulder, with a more miserable look than before. She recalled that he had been missing some hair there in his rat form. James chuckled.

"Tz. Not so impressive when she isn't around, yeah."

"I only didn't mean to damage your oh so pretty face all too much. Not more than I already had two years ago. You should be grateful that I taught her the counter spell,", Severus snarled and found himself having to block a nonverbal stunner.

" _That is enough!_ ", bellowed Marchbanks though was ignored as they started a forceful, nonverbal duel.

Up on the podium, the Minister wanted to raise too, but he was pushed back into his seat by Dumbledore's flat hand on his chest. Hermione decided to not pay attention as the Minister started protesting with hisses. The scene below was what she had come for.

Though of the speed, she was surprised how good she could identify the spells. Nevertheless she had problems with some because each of the jinxes and curses were blocked before they could hit their target. Tofty had backed away meanwhile and watched it with a mix of panic and awe.

The spells were visibly getting stronger and she could see James struggle with repelling. Severus however remained the same, not even moving his legs. Hermione realised that if she combined the way of their movement, she could clearly see Harry battling and if she hadn't known the truth, she would have even considered James being his father a little. Incredible, she thought, how much twin brothers could differ and still be alike in the basics. Their expressions were exactly the same, also the way they held their wands, if one ignored the intensity of the flicks and waves.

A fountain of water splashed against Severus, being stopped by a sudden stream of fire that was so immense that it filled the area between them with steam for some seconds. The gigantic snake of bright flames let even the magic candles melt around it and wax rained down on the floor as it sped towards James, who only ducked down and covered his face with his arm in a pitiful attempt to save himself. But the snake transformed into a not less huge crow shortly before it reached him and wrapped its fiery wings around the teenager, covering him entirely. Then suddenly, the fire was gone.

The smell of the burnt wax hung in the air and the stone floor was black where the fire had moved over it, small dots of formerly white wax all over it. A lightning bolt shot across the enchanted ceiling, shining through the windows and the hall fell dark. The hot air became so ice cold at an instant that nearly everyone in the hall wrapped their arms around their bodies. Exceptions were Dumbledore who only marvelled at Severus, who had his wand still pointed at James – who peered over his arm, slowly realising that he was still alive. The rivulet of blood had already soaked his shirt's collar where it had run down his chin, and was still trickling.

"Not killing me then, Snape?", he shouted, back at his sense.

Severus face became distressed and a rush of bluish silver light that erupted from the tip of his wand became a beautiful doe, which landed gently before him. James' anger was gone in seconds as he stood up and Hermione knew why. Seconds in which the doe pawed the stone floor, lowering her head as if she was ready to attack. Tofty stepped even further aside and gazed at the third corporeal Patronus he got to see that day, yet being the same as the first one. Hermione was sure he was trying hard on making himself believe it to be coincidence.

The expression of the doe resembled Severus' grim face from before and he pulled back his wand, holding it to his chest with both hands. That moment the doe rushed off, towards James and straight through him, knocking him backwards to the floor. He gasped for air as his head hit the stones and Hermione knew that he had seen stars for a moment – felt an unpleasant sting on the back of her own head upon the streak of memory. While the doe paraded around him with her divine shine far from her expression, a single tear trickled down Severus' right cheek, a tear that mirrored so many emotions that Hermione knew he could only bear it because he had let out most of his anger during the duel. Though the sadness in the young man's eyes was hurting her terribly and he closed them as if he knew that she would watch it long time ahead in the future.

His lips trembled and he lowered his head, his eyebrows narrowing. Hermione wanted to go to him, lay her arms around him, but she remembered it would be senseless as it was only Dumbledore's memory she was watching. And doing that even after leaving the Pensieve was far from possible as well. He was somewhere – a somewhere of which she didn't even know where it was, out of reach for her, and even if it was Howarts, she wasn't to enter.

The eighteen year old Severus dropped his right hand, his fingers still clutching his wand and the Patronus came back. She could hear Dumbledore sigh when the doe tried to lift Severus head by nudging under his chin. He even failed to cheer himself up with thoughts of Lily, but they were strong enough to keep the Patronus from dissolving. The doe did it more firmly, now against his cheek, and could move his head a little, but Severus gave his wand a flick, which finally made the creature collapse into glowing mist that vanished as he walked over to his brother on the floor.

Hermione wasn't the only one who watched him with confusion, frozen in place even though the fire came back to the torches, chimney and remaining candles. He merely stood at James' left, looking down on him. Then, surprising all, he put his wand into his left and offered him his right hand. The other frowned at the gesture. But instead of taking it, James heaved himself up on his own and gave Severus a look of bare loathing. He already turned to go when Severus stopped him with a quick move. He had shifted his wand again, so fast this time that Hermione hadn't even seen it first.

"What – ", grunted James, but was hushed by the tip of the black wand at his still bleeding bruise.

"Tha'd leave a no' all too nice scar.", Severus said calm and the wound healed. "I'd never fergive meself.", he trailed the wand down the red track and it vanished as well.

"Tz. Suddenly you care?", James snarled. " _Suddenly?_ "

"I always cared. From tha beginnin' on."

"And what's that supposed to mean, Snape?"

"Ye wouldn' believe me."

"Then make me believe!"

"I can'.", his sadness was back and he sniffed once, curling his lips. "Maybe one day,", he let go and stuck his wand into his sleeve, "Ye'll understan'. I'm sure, we'll mee' again at sum' poin' in our future.", Severus turned to the main door and sighed. "An' I'll never give up 'ope tha' ye've finally gotten ter understan' then."

"What the – "

But Severus didn't deign him another look. He only turned to greyish white fog and rushed towards the gilded doors that opened by his will, which Hermione was sure of that if Dumbledore had not let him go, he wouldn't have been able to. The moment he was gone, the scenery became black and she felt her head lift like the last time.

Rays of light forced their way through the shutters and made the dusty air glisten. The sun had risen while she had watched the memory. Remus had leaned back in his chair and hung a little askew. By his calm breath she could tell that he had fallen asleep. It cost her a little smile.

"Remus.", she whispered, no reaction. "Remus!"

"Huh?", he startled up, looking around and his tightly clutched wand held up instantly. "Oh.", he relaxed a little and gazed at her, blinking several times. "And?"

"I don't even know why he wanted me to watch that."

"Not?"

"There wasn't much in there that shocked me. Nothing I have no explanation for.", Remus chuckled.

"Don't tell me, you even know why he helped James afterwards?"

"Oh I know absolutely why."

"Er – "

"And you are one of the last ones I would tell.", she said stiff, extracted the memory from the small Pensieve and dripped it back into the flask.

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't understand. You wouldn't believe."

"Don't recite him,", Remus warned. "This leads you nowhere."

"It led me quite far over the past years, if you care to know.", the flask was were it belonged and the box as well as the Pensieve closed. "And if you excuse me now, I want at least one last hour of sleep before Mrs Weasley chimes us all out with her delightful trombone voice of a morning greet.", she stowed the Pensieve and box in the Mokeskin Pouch which she slipped into her own purple bag, jumped to her feet and left him in the barn without saying goodbye even.

~~#~~


	42. Chapter 41 - Fragile Shreds

– Chapter 41 –

 **Fragile Shreds**

Local heavy rain had forced them to stay inside for the past days. The sitting room was lit by the flames in the chimney and some candles floating around. Three of them sat circling the fireplace. A plopping sound and clinking of glasses. Lucius came back from the kitchen, a bottle in the one hand and four glasses awkwardly in the other. He placed the things on the small table in between the armchairs and started to pour the red wine into the glasses, though his hands were shaking a bit when he did so.

"What are you doing?", Narcissa frowned.

"We survived another month."

"And?"

"And I thought, we might just have a toast on it – and of course you, Severus, who made it possible."

"That is really not necessary.", his expression was rather cold. "And a very terrible excuse for drinking."

"It's just a glass of wine."

"Well, of course it is just a glass. And a second. A third. And another."

"The bottle really isn't that big."

"But addiction can be."

"Nonsense, Severus. What makes you think I am addicted? It's only the one or other very occasional glass.", Severus gave a grunt.

"And you know I don't like wine, Dad."

"Well, I couldn't get the champagne before we left. Be happy with what we have."

A glass already in his hand, he handed the second to his wife. Severus curled his lips, reached over behind him, giving the remaining glasses a well hidden wave of his hand before he picked them up. Only Draco noticed it, raising an eyebrow when the glass was forced into his hand. The faint wink however, was seen by Narcissa as well, who suppressed a smile on it. She knew from last summer what he had done: back then, when he had offered her and her sister some elf-made wine, she had caught him waving his hand over his glass before he had taken it from behind. Draco sniffed, unseen by his father, and his lips formed the question ` _Blackberry juice?_ ´. Severus only confirmed it with a brief, mischievous smile.

"Ah.", Lucius sat back down. "Well then, to life!", he raised his glass. "And our friend Severus.", the three lifted their glasses as well, Severus with a little sigh before he sipped from his juice. "So? How long will you still stay with us?"

"As long as it is possible. If I can arrange it, exactly another month. But I would have to return to Hogwarts latest in the evening of September, first. What would this school do without a Headmaster?", the corner of his mouth shortly flicked up, however, without another change in his tired mimic.

"Then it is settled?", asked Narcissa. "He wishes you to run the school?", Severus said nothing on it, yet looked straight into her eyes. "Will you take Draco with you?"

"I won't go back.", the boy threw in stiffly. "I'll stay with you."

"Severus – "

"If it is his choice to stay with his family, I will not force him to continue his education.", Severus leaned back, holding his glass out over the right armrest. "You should be thankful that he rather wishes to spend his time with you.", a short glance at Lucius, then his look rested on Narcissa again, who nodded.

"And it's faster to run out of the shield here than leaving the school grounds, if he should summon me."

"Draco – ", his father aspirated.

"You know there's only the choice between obeying and dying. If I think about it now, I'd rather obey.", Severus dropped an unnoticed smirk. "And anyway,", Draco held his wand languidly into the air, "He's not so threatening if you – just agree with him.", the tip of the wand started glowing silvery blue. "If you tell him what he wants to hear, he's a little less scary."

He gave the wand a wave and a stream of bright light erupted from it, the bird rushing through the dim lit room, mingling the fiery light with a blue hue that glided across the spaces the Patronus flew over. His parents were no less than awestruck. Severus' lips slightly parted as he gazed at the crow that now sat down on the short-legged table in the middle. The animal of light shook its glowing feathers and tilted its head, looking at him when Draco did. Severus noticed it and his head turned to the boy. Then his glass fell.

Severus squinted, clutching the fingers of his left hand. The others knew what it meant. Though each of the four was surprised that only he had been summoned. Gathering his senses past a knot in his throat, he rummaged for a black robe and cloak as well as his white-golden mask.

"Severus?", Lucius moaned unsure.

"Stay – in the house.", he murmured in slight panic and dressed; the Patronus vanished.

"What's it?", Draco was worried. "What's goin' on?"

"Just do me a favour and stay inside until I return.", Severus threw his cloak over. "Watch the door, Draco.", he put on his mask and covered his hair with the hood.

" _What's happening?_ ", Draco hissed.

"Scrimgeour's dead."

" _What?_ ", the other three yelped at once.

"The Ministry has fallen. I need to secure a wedding."

"Wedding?"

"Just do as I say!", he pleaded, his voice muffled by the mask and hurried over to the door, storming out without closing it behind and flew to the edge of his shield.

Out, he Disapparated immediately. Draco had jumped up as well and slid to halt in the doorframe, staring into the night, his wand dangling at his side, his gaze then dropping to the orange shine on the floor. Just then he noticed that he still held his glass.

Screams all around. The sounds of people Disapparating. His heart pounded heavily as though he was running through the fog in the Department of Mysteries again. Whizzing spells shooting through the air. The smell of burnt fabric. The tent was on fire and it seemed impossible to find them in the chaos, if he couldn't block out his own emotions and search for those that mingled with them. But it was also to his benefit. In all that turmoil, no one would notice whom he actually helped. A Killing Curse swooshed past his face. The next moment, the caster laid stunned on the floor. He sent a shield on her so nobody would stomp her to death. Flinging spell after spell, of the one and the other kind, he hurried through the panicking mass.

"Ron!", he heard a familiar voice cry. "Ron!"

There she was, pulling a seeming Weasley after her but he knew who it was. They ducked away under a lost Cracker Jinx that rushed into the night, away over the fields. Then there was something yellow running past him. Just in time, he realised who it was and seized her arm. Luna struggled to break free, but he shortly lifted his mask, making her freeze with a growing smile. A golden dress, topped by long ginger hair. He reached out for her arm as well, making his wand dig into her flesh. She was so beside herself, she didn't even see who was holding her back. Probably it was the sight of Luna's smile that stunned her in the very moment.

Their eyes met. Right when she caught Ron's hand, hazel eyes looked straight into dark brown ones, over the dance floor that was a pond filled with stumbling people. But the boy's disguise couldn't shield him from the hooded and masked's knowledge, who appeared a complete stranger to his son. In the next split second, the dark tunnels drifted on to the boy's false eyes similar marbles. Recognising his mask, she gave him a little worried smile before she was gone with the real and fake ginger.

Silence smacked into their ears and the darkness poured over them. Though there was a shine from the distance. A silhouette in an open door. He pushed the surprised girls forward into the barrier. Wearing high heels, especially Ginny staggered, but Luna caught her.

"Thanks.", she mumbled, "What the – ", and rushed around, finding him having closed up again.

"Draco!", he yelled, echoing through the night, but his voice wouldn't be heard outside the shield. "Take them inside! I'll be right there!"

Draco hurtled towards the three when Severus stepped back out of the safe area and Disapparated to The Burrow once more.

"You – two?", he murmured when he saw who they were. "I thought he'd – never mind. Come with me."

" _You?_ ", Ginny moaned, holding her wand tight. "What's this place? Why are we – what's this all about?"

"Jus' follow me, okay?", Draco hissed and walked ahead.

The girls took off their shoes so they wouldn't ruin them and their ankles on the pebble beach. Marching after him, they approached the house in the middle of the shield. Another figure stood in the door now, trying to see who Draco brought with him. To grant them access, he stepped aside, confused by who the girls were.

"Draco – what is this? Why did he bring them here?"

"How should I know? Sit down, Dad.", he gave the door a lazy wand-wave and it fell shut. "He said he'll come back. So I think, all we can do is wait."

"Listen – ", Ginny started, examining her surrounding, "I have no idea what this is supposed to be here and I don't want to know. So let us go back, if you would."

"No."

" _No?_ "

"He said I shall take you inside and wait. Therefore we wait. Got it?"

"That's not how it works, Malfoy!", Ginny stormed to the door, but Luna grabbed her wrist.

"No.", she said softly, with her usual dreamy, calm tone. "Draco's right. We have to stay here."

"I give a damn about what he says!", Ginny snarled, struggling against a miraculously strong grip. "I go back and fight! If they don't know how to kidnap someone properly, I'll leave!"

"No, Ginevra. Don't you see?"

"What!"

"He brought us here because we know too much."

"Wha-", Luna shook her head at the protest.

"It's necessary that we stay here until the danger is over. When they realise that Harry's gone, they will stop the attack. _Then_ we can return, but no earlier.", Ginny dropped her shoulders, depleted, and Luna finally let go.

"So it was – him?", Ginny looked from Luna to Draco and back.

"Of course it was him. Who else would it be?", her friend smiled.

"Right.", Ginny sighed.

"Besides, he showed himself to me. Now, what is this place here? Did he put up the candles?"

"Yes.", Draco calmed down as well. "And it's our temporary house now."

"Did he bring you here?"

"He did. What did you mean by you ` _know too much_ ´?"

"Oh, we mustn't tell."

"Sure.", Draco gave a grunt and sat down, offering Severus' armchair to them. "Be careful. There's broken glass on the floor."

"Thank you.", Luna sang, walked around the shards and squeezed herself into the chair with Ginny, both dropping their shoes on the carpet in front.

"You must be Draco's parents then?", she sat quite straight, dangling her legs against the armchair, causing a consistent thudding sound.

"That is right.", Narcissa said calm. "May I guess, Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes. And this is – "

"Ginny Weasley, we know.", nodded Lucius with a grunt.

"It is quite nice here."

"You should see it at daylight.", Draco mumbled, sadly staring into nowhere.

The door opened before his father could fully develop his questioning look and a covered man stepped in, leaning with his forearms against the wing when he closed it. He wiped back his hood and took off the mask, leaving his hair messed. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and examined the looks facing him.

"They're all safe. Some got hurt, but at least everyone of fair importance is alive.", Severus panted. "He called them back when he got aware that Harry escaped. The scream still rings in my ears. I have never heard him swearing like this.", he let out a dull chuckle and eyed the floating candle closest to him. "They will be interrogating you.", he now spoke to Luna and Ginny directly. "Lots of questions will be asked. After all, you are close to Harry. I cannot intervene in this case, you must understand. It would be obvious then. And I have to watch the Ministry. Too many haven't left yet and if he actually orders to sort out the Muggle-Born, I have to make sure to keep the extent of the tragedy as minimal as possible."

"What about the Hogwarts students?", Ginny moaned; he only breathed for some seconds.

"That is all arranged. Unless they give themselves away accidentally, it shall not be a problem to claim wizarding ancestry in a hearing. There are people who will stand in their parent's place by taking Polyjuice Potion, if necessary."

"Which people? From the Order?"

"The Order has got nothing to do with it anymore and you shouldn't ask too much. The less you know before _the Ministry_ seeks a word with you, the better.", Ginny nodded.

"Okay."

"And convince your mother that your return to Hogwarts is essential."

"I – ", she was distracted by a wincing Draco.

"Damn.", he mumbled, pressing his lips together and his right hand on the Mark under his sleeve. "Is this a new habit of him, or what? Nitpicking? Can't he simply summon us all and put each into separate rooms if he wants to talk to us one after another? The manor's got enough of those,"

"He did not summon me for a late evening chat, Draco. He did because he expected me to round up the lot. Though none has recognised me in that mayhem, I am sure of that much. It will be easy for me to hoax him."

"So you're coming with me?"

"Do you actually believe I would let you go there on your own? You haven't heard him."

"No.", Draco sighed. "I guess, not even a Giant in full enchanted armour would survive him now?"

"Nicely said.", smirked Severus. "I will bring you two back to The Burrow."

Two minutes later, Severus pulled Draco along the dark broad path between the high hedges. Ginny and Luna were safely returned to the Weasleys' house, trying to build up a lie about where they had hidden for those minutes they had been absent. Draco swallowed as he looked up to the windows of the sitting hall. Fire was lit in the chimney and a ghostly shadow was gliding along the rows of glass. They took the stairs running.

"Oh look, who we have here.", there was a broad, unnatural grin on Voldemort's face when they entered. "I thought he could walk on his own by now?", he sneered. "Never mind. You are just in time, Draco. Why don't you come over here and say hello to Thorfinn?"

Thorfinn Rowle knelt on the carpet before the fireplace. The armchairs had been pushed aside carelessly to give the area some more space. His expression was far from the confidence the tall man normally carried. He seemed inches smaller, his body flooded with anxiety.

"Why don't you give him a lesson? Teach him what it actually feels like to fail?", Draco stared in between the two, concerned. "Do I sense hesitation?"

"No, my Lord.", Draco swallowed, composed himself and stepped closer, drawing his wand.

"Very well, you know what I am talking about?"

"Yes, my Lord.", the boy swallowed another time and pointed his wand at Rowle.

"Then, do it.", he became a little impatient.

" _Crucio!_ ", Draco yelled.

The artificial grin on Voldemort's lips grew when Rowle wound in agony, screaming his soul out. He strode round them once, watching the scene with an almost touchable delight.

"Enough.", he said and Draco panted as if he had held his breath while he had tortured the man. "Now, Rowle, why don't you repeat to our guests what you just told me, so they know why they are here?", Rowle only gargled, breathing heavily. "No? You do not wish to repeat how you had been ordered above all to catch the boy and failed? Draco – let us try again."

Draco gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and put the Cruciatus Curse on Rowle another time, filling the hall with horrid screams of pain. In his pale face, his struggling tried to break through, but he remained consistent, unwilling to find out what would happen if he couldn't torture the man any longer.

"This will do.", the screams faded; in the back, Severus approached the group very slowly. "Now what does this look like to me, you might wonder? This looks either like a weak person or one who does not wish to follow my orders. Both are, I must say, worrying me _a bit_. I always thought of you as a faithful man."

"My Lord – ", Rowle cried quietly.

"Yes? More, Rowle or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini?", the snake rose her head in a corner of the hall. "Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time.", he paused, "You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

"Crucio!"

Two pairs of eyes were on him. Anger rose in Voldemort while Draco dropped his shoulders with effeteness. As if the screams were of no meaning, they studied his cold expression as he tortured Thorfinn.

"Now what is this?", Voldemort bellowed. "Stop it and tell me what you mean to achieve!", Severus lowered his wand and looked at him, no change in his face when he answered calmly.

"If you want someone to tap-dance for you, my Lord, then don't take a pig. Because, believe it or not, pigs are unable to tap-dance on their own.", Voldemort opened his mouth in protest, but shut it immediately, not sure what to reply on this. "If you wish your orders to be carried out, take someone who can do it. Just because you were capable of killing at young age, it does not mean any other child can do the same, my Lord. I understand your fury, but this here is no use at all. You possess a great amount of wisdom, my Lord, but it is no benefit to drop it all in a sandpit."

"Meaning?", murmured Voldemort.

"Life is not a straight corridor. There are more corridors and doors leading away from it at each yard. Life is a huge maze and if you intend to find yourself at the exit, victorious, I suggest you consider your steps. Orders are not orders when being placed upon the wrong people. Our wishes often do collide with given facts and we therefore are compelled to compromise, my Lord. So for once in a year, I ask you to step down from your throne and consider logical."

"Is this protest?", he aspirated, torn between confusion and anger.

"It is an advice.", Severus said stiffly and stuck his wand back up his left sleeve.

"Advice."

"Yes, an advice. You cannot just go ordering people around at your will, not caring whether they are actually able to fulfil their duties. Reaching your goal does not only depend on your own interest. Want people to work for you, then dare to organise wisely. Sending the first available gladiator into the arena does not do. They will fail eventually. A war is not equatable with a board game in which every piece is allowed to do the same moves. It is chess and in chess there are different types of warriors. Attack the wrong with the wrong and you will lose, my Lord."

There was a humming silence, broken only by their heavy breath and the crackling of the fire. Then Severus walked through between Draco and Thorfinn, stopping only a hand broad away from him. For the first time Draco noticed that he was almost a head smaller than Voldemort, but from his angle, it could also appear the other way round, if he tilted his head. Forgetting his emotions, the scene quite impressed him.

"In other words,", said Voldemort, "I shall rely only on you, Severus? Being selfish – or – attentive?", he snarled.

"Oh behold the naivety of those words, which just left your mouth, my Lord.", Severus hissed. "Did you happen to have listened to anything I have said to you?", no answer, only a glare. "Well, then I am afraid, I cannot help you. Some cases are indeed lost. It would be my pleasure to assist you, my Lord, but if you are so fixated that you do not see where you need help, then I will unfortunately have to accept that you rather die on your path to glory than anticipating one, single, advice. Come, Draco. Let us grant him some time to think about how narrow-mindedly he walks through life.". he turned, grabbed Draco's arm and left the manor flying.

The red eyes were still on the spot where they had left. This time, it couldn't make him frustrated. He was too flustered to even notice that a notorious window in the front had jumped open on its own. To his feet, the normally tall and strong man gave a whimper. That however, did draw his attention. He gave his bony wand a flick and Rowle flew up in the air, slamming with his back against a pillar. When his hands met with the floor, the sound of breaking bones could be heard. But his head hit the floor as well and he passed out before he could feel any more pain.

In a corner, Nagini rolled in at the moment a drained breath fell from Voldemort's lipless mouth.

" _Foolish little children_.", he whispered to his only dear, in the language of those with split tongues. " _Whining about life as though they knew what life really was alike. We know better, Nagini. We know_.", the snake unrolled and glided towards him. " _Talking about wisdom – about_ _mercy_ – mercy – _what mercy does life give us, I ask you? What mercy?_ "

" _None_.", hissed Nagini, sliding around his feet. " _None_.", she repeated, moving up along his legs, only his wide cloak between them.

" _Exactly. None. So why should we show mercy then, if not even life does? Or does it? It always has mercy for that boy, does it not? Always sends him – friends – to save his neck –_ ", at his own, the head of the snake appeared from over his shoulder. " _His Muggle mother giving her life for him – giving – her life – for_ his – _life_ – ", he aspirated, stroking Nagini's head in thoughts, " _That is not how life works, Nagini. Not how it – works –_ "

"My Lord?"

She had stood there already seconds after the two had left, slightly bowed like usual when she faced him, so she wouldn't appear impolite. He though hadn't seen her in the penumbra, too focused on his considerations. Now however, her presence killed all his slackness. With all determination he could get hold of, he answered her.

"What is it, Bellatrix? Why do you disturb me? Have I not asked for privacy?"

"It's Yaxley, my Lord. He says the Taboo is spoken."

"As if I didn't know!", he growled. "Or do you believe me to be dumb?"

"O-of course not, my Lord!", Bellatrix shrieked hastily. "You are as much dumb as Severus is Harry Potter's father!"

"Good, thank you for assuring me I need not question your sanity. Now tell that child downstairs that, unless he wishes to experience what it means to waste my time, he should either come up here with grand news or remove his unworthy presence from these grounds!"

"It will be my pleasure, my Lord.", with a broad grin of horrible teeth she stepped back outside and was gone.

A frustrated snort left the slits above his mouth and he finally turned for the windows, realising the gap in the neat row. Even more annoyed, he flicked his hand at the window; three times actually, before it would finally fall shut.

~~#~~

Sighing with exhaustion, Draco sank into his armchair and stared into space, starting to tremble as the tension of the occurred slowly wore off.

"You shouldn't have done that.", he mumbled at Severus who was back in his chair as well, alarmed at the sight of the empty bottle of wine on the table, and another, being close to – Lucius had apparently found a Whisky Severus had missed when scanning the house. "He'll be – "

"Confused and then impressed.", Draco chuckled awkwardly on it.

"I don't know what this is, you are living there, and how you can possibly survive it, but since you do, I better shut up, don't I?"

"What did he want?", Narcissa asked, worried as she watched her son stand up again and walk up and down in front of the fireplace.

"Release his anger.", Severus said calm. "But I couldn't let him this time."

"I don't believe that, you know?", Draco said. "I mean, how can he tolerate this? Everyone else would already be dead, if they talked to him like you did. Why does he spare you? Why does he take your opinion into account?"

"Because he is afraid."

"Afraid.", Draco stopped and frowned at him.

"More than you could imagine, and I know where his fears lie."

"And he trusts you enough to believe you won't tell anyone?"

Draco pricked up his ears at some noise coming from an open window. It had started raining once more. He went over, rested his hands on the sill and gazed out into the darkness. The sound of the drops hitting the roof, the pebbles and the surface of the lake felt soothing to him, somehow. He normally didn't like rain much, but now, at the very moments, it was to him as if it was all he had been wishing for. The rhythm – like soft drums being played gently, wanting to bring peace, to bring calm. But someone else was not so pleased about the weather.

"Noddagain.", Lucius roared annoyed and took a small sip from his almost empty glass. "Shut the window, Draco. I dun' wanna hear that."

"No.", it was one of the coldest words that had ever left his mouth.

"Nou?"

"I like the rain."

"Since when?", laughed Lucius, very dull.

"Since I do.", Draco replied curtly.

"Thass no answer, son."

"Sure."

"Whassat?"

"Sure, _father_. How _could_ I like rain at all?", Draco snorted. " _Rain isn't classy_."

He spun around, anger on his pale face. Though he was burning inside so much his throat became dry, the heat didn't affect his skin. Not yet.

"Whataya mean.", Lucius was on his feet.

"It means, that just because something doesn't get along well with your reputation; of which I have to note that you lost it; it doesn't mean I'm not to like it."

"Draco – ", Narcissa aspirated, but her husband stopped her with a gesture of his hand and approached his son clumsily.

"Leddim hav'is word. I like ta hear whadde has ta say. He things he has ta play tha revollu- revv- revoll'sher, so leddim."

"I'm not playing anything!", Draco raged, his voice echoing outside through the still open window. "I'm just tired of it! Of it all! If you don't like it here, no one forces you to stay!"

Lucius blinked, clutching his glass. Narcissa clapped her hands on her mouth. Severus sat straight, ready to jump between.

"If you oh so much love me as he says,", he shortly pointed his hand on Severus, "Then show it and respect my opinion! Respect that I have a life as well and that I don't want to live it the way you want me to! Respect, that I'm not a Houseelf! That I'm not one of those, you by the way didn't manage to hold either!"

There was a clank. Draco, his blood finally arriving in his face, had snatched the glass from his father and thrown it into the fireplace where the Whisky, meeting with the flames, burst into a small fireball. The empty bottle on the desk followed with a furious wave of his hand and the rest of the Whisky was gone in with a similar explosion. Then everything went fast. A loud clap and cracking noise and Draco was on his knees, holding his cheek. Narcissa screamed. Lucius' back met hard with the wall next to the window, struggling for breath as a firm hand was pressed against his throat and another held his wrists above his head. All three Malfoys stared horrified at Severus whose face was distorted with blank ire, but only Lucius could see it.

"Apologise.", Severus hissed.

"I – S–", Lucius just gargled, panicking.

"I said, apologise, you stubborn git!", Severus gritted his teeth, but when he heard Draco starting to cry, coughing, he loosened the grip a bit. "Well?"

"I – I'm – s-s-sor-ry – "

Severus let go, though his anger didn't vanish. It slowly transformed into disgust. Draco wiped his mouth with shock. There was blood on his hand, a lot of blood actually and the rising pain brought thicker tears.

"And now apologise to your son.", Severus said icily.

"Wha– ? I – "

"Yes?"

But Draco was gone. It hadn't been easy for him to get up due to his body refusing to fully respond to his will, but he still had managed to. His cheek had started swelling. Wiping more blood, eyes washed, he hurtled upstairs. Severus seized Lucius' collar, dragged him to the door, opened it and threw him out into the rain.

"Don't you dare to think you may come in before you are entirely aware of what you just did, you understand me? Or I _was_ your friend."

He slammed the door shut, threw a short, concerned look at Narcissa and hurried to the first floor, into his and Draco's dark room, where he found the boy sitting with his back against the wardrobe, curled up into a heavily sobbing ball and holding his aching cheek. Severus closed the door, lit Draco's bedside lamp from the distance and sat down to his left, trying to unroll him. But Draco bridled.

"Please let me help you.", Severus said softly.

"I – don' – need – your – ", he panted into his knees, every word hurting him.

"You do. Please, Draco. It will only take me some seconds."

Draco sniffed and raised slightly, looking away. Severus pulled his wand and pointed it at the thick, bloodshot jaw. He really only needed seconds to make it look like nothing had happened, though the tears running from the swollen grey-blue eyes and the blood around his mouth were enough evidence.

"Open your mouth.", the eyes rushed at Severus. "Please."

He did as said and Severus held Draco's lower jar open with his left thumb, looking inside. Draco winced.

"That will hurt just a little more. Ready?", Draco nodded but let out a splitting scream when the jaw cracked back into place.

Moving the teenager's head while the light now coming from the tip of his wand granted him a better view, he examined tooth after tooth. They seemed to be alright, but the side of the tongue was still bleeding a bit. He healed it with ease and moved his palm to Draco's right cheek. Draco avoided his look, though Severus didn't care. The boy had all the right to. With a sigh, Severus made the dripped blood vanish, tucked his wand, leaned against the wardrobe as well and put his arms around Draco, pulling him close. Tenderly stroking the crying boy's head, he stared across the small room, not seeing it though.

There was only another wall, once white, but gotten slightly dirty and grey. Unconscious, he curled his lips and his eyes started moving and blinking, but the room in front of his eyes was not the one that was actually supposed to be there. Holding someone in his arms himself, felt strange. It didn't fit. Not the room.

Severus blinked heavier a few times, like shaking himself out of his thoughts, when the door opened. Almost silent, she glided in and looked around. Finding them, she slouched her shoulders. Her eyes were as teary as her son's, but she wasn't shaking; looking utterly sad and exhausted, but calm, just as if the body that had cried wasn't hers and she was only floating somewhere in the shell. Severus gazed up at her, seeing that she wiped a hand down her mouth. Draco still trembled and chuckled in his arms, the streams of tears not stopping to flow.

"He is still out there.", Narcissa barely raised her voice. "At least I hope so. Can he leave without your allowance?"

"No. It is an inflexible barrier.", she nodded only.

"He's – gone – outside?", muttered Draco.

"To put it mildly, yes.", Severus sighed. "I threw him out."

"What?", Draco raised, blinking at him from the side, his view blurred from the tears, but Severus' tired, slightly unfocused eyes were fixated on Narcissa who had wrapped her arms around her body now. "You – ?", Severus blew his breath through his nose, shortly closed his eyes and stared at the wooden floor between the beds, oblivious of it.

"Severus?", aspirated Narcissa.

"Whom would you rather like to share your bed with tonight, Draco?"

"Er – what?"

"You don't expect me to let you sleep alone, do you?"

Severus turned his head and looked straight into the boy's eyes, only inches away. He brushed his left hand through the hand-broad long, greasy, white-blond strands. A faint smirk ran over his lips when Draco slightly dropped his hand into the touch, closing his eyes. Then Draco fell against him once more, all strength gone at last.

"I'll have a word with Lucius.", Narcissa sighed, waiting for Severus to nod, before she left them.

When her footsteps died down, he raised and pulled Draco to his feet. Draco's white pyjamas soared into Severus' outstretched free hand. Supporting him all the way, he brought Draco to the bathroom that lit as they entered. After locking, he waved the stool over to the wall between tub and shower and gently sat the boy onto it. He tilted the lid of the toilet seat down and used it as a kind of shelf place for Draco's pyjamas. Tired, Draco watched him taking off his cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on the lid too. Severus then undid the clasps of his robe and the buttons of his shirt and added the clothing to the straight pile. He stuck his wand into the tiny pouch dangling to his chest and continued with the lower clothes.

A bit confused, but too exhausted to do anything against it, Draco let himself be pulled up and undressed by him as well, his clothes put down on the actual stool. The slightly cool air in the room made him shiver, but Severus caringly moved him into the shower and pulled the curtain shut. He took his shampoo and shower gel from the waterproof pouch and placed the bottles on the small ceramic shelf between the shower hat and tap.

Draco squinted and ducked. He had been stupid enough to look up, right when Severus had turned on the water. Although it was lukewarm, it had come too sudden. Nevertheless it was enough to cost him a little ironic chuckle. He had never shared a shower with someone, but he was too exhausted to complain and the warm water felt good on his skin. Enjoying, he closed his eyes. There was some sound, however, he didn't care what it was. Then some other feeling, he welcomed as well, somehow. It was a pair of warm hands that spread shower gel on his entire body. _Almost_ his entire body. Draco's eyes shot open when his hand was lifted and he found some of the gel being put on his palm. There was a soft whisper in his right ear.

"You'll do that bit yourself, if you don't mind.", Draco blushed.

"Sure.", he gargled, the words having woken him up.

In the meantime, Severus already washed the shower gel off his own body. He now helped Draco with his back. Halfway down, Draco suddenly reclined, resulting in Severus' hands resting on his hips. Surprised, he looked at him from over his shoulder. Draco only stared at the tiles, the warm water still pouring on their heads.

"What you did – the past days – ", he whispered just loud enough for Severus to hear him over the water, the back of his head against Severus' left collarbone, "What you did for me – with me – I – thank you.", Severus hands glided around the boy's stomach and pulled him close, resting his head on his right shoulder.

"There is no need to thank me.", Severus said softly, soaking wet bundles of black hair washed into his face and placed a hint of a kiss on the boy's shoulder.

"There is.", Draco countered. "Did you – did you ever – do such – such things with your son?", giving no answer, Severus pressed his eyes shut. "Do – would you want to?"

Severus only tilted his head to his, sighed and slightly opened his eyes again, gazing down at some random point, watching the drops falling from his own lashes. Draco understood.

"I had made the Vow once before in my life. But I made it too late and in the wrong way. Still I kind of redefined it for myself. Draco. I swore to protect you and if I do something like that, no matter if sealed by magic or trust, I stick to my word.", Draco sniffed.

"It's unfair. He should be in my place now."

"He isn't."

"No. But he should, I'm just saying.", Severus raised his head and looked at the blurred silhouette of the teenager's face. "Just saying.", he repeated, some seconds later.

"The story of a life is formed by the choices we make and their outcome. I made some very fatal choices in my life, some in haste, others after considering for a very long time. I regret a lot. But that doesn't change it. That doesn't make those things undone, though I wish for it day after day. Nevertheless I can see also the positive results. They might be cruel in some way, but they were for something that is worth the pain. Maybe one day you will understand.", he lightly pushed Draco off and took the bottle with the shampoo. "Maybe, one day, you will understand the choices your father and I made."

"You asked me, whom I'd like to – er – I think, I can't – ", Draco visibly enjoyed the scalp massage, but not his loss of words.

"Decide? Did I ever say you have to decide?"

"You mean – ?"

"If you wish, I can melt the beds."

"You would do that?"

"Your mother and I have been friends for many years. It does not bother me if you say you want – "

"Alright – ", Draco aspirated. "But – we'd have to tell her – "

"Don't worry. I will."

The shampoo was washed out completely and Draco turned around to just look up to him, the two inches, into Severus' dark eyes, seeing the honesty. Tight and comforting, the following embrace was. Though as tight as the knot that began to grow in Severus' throat and he was unable to swallow it down now. Draco was right. It was unfair. But maybe, if he believed in it, if he believed strong enough, he could make Harry feel what he did to the other boy. Maybe he could send him his comfort over the flows of energy the world consisted of. And maybe, he would even remember the feeling and feel less alone than he did at the moment – than both of them did.

~~#~~

Fifteen minutes later and completely dry in his white pyjamas, Draco sat in the middle of the big, seamless bed that used to be two. Severus had also moved the nightstands to each side of it, both lamps burning and casting a strange light on the boy. The sound of the shower could be heard through the open door. Severus stepped in and closed it. Narcissa was still in the bathroom.

"How's he – "

"He fell asleep.", Draco nodded absentmindedly on the soft answer. "Literally."

"Literally?"

"I could just get his wet clothes off him before he stumbled over and fell onto the bed, sleeping already.", a dull chuckle escaped Draco. "Left or right?"

"Er – ", he had to think for some seconds, "Left, I think."

Severus just smiled and went over, sitting down to his left. Draco examined the blue pyjamas, then his feet. Severus leaned on his right hand, knees bent and flat on the bed. Draco's eyes wandered up to his gently smiling face that was embedded in a bush of silky black hair. He had never seen it so tufty before. It cost him a smirk. Draco leaned himself on his left hand, forming a mirroring position to Severus'.

"How is you jaw?"

"Fine, I think.", he moved it a little to check the flexibility. "Doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good. Has he punched you before?", Draco shook his head.

"No. He slaps me, sometimes, but it's not bad, or so. He does it very lightly. His way of education.", the boy distorted his lips only now, to a rather odd smirk. "But he hasn't done it since he came back from Azkaban. The p– no. I'd better shut up now."

"Say it, Draco.", Severus smiled caringly. "He can't hear you. Get it off you. What did you want to say?"

"The positive side of the horror. Damn.", he whispered. "I wish, I could see what's on your mind now."

"Guess.", the smile didn't vanish.

"It could be anything!", Draco moaned.

"Exactly."

"Guess what's on mine."

"My eyes."

"Tz."

"Well, you are staring straight into them, so they must be on your mind in at least some way."

"Alright. You won. They're not black, right?"

"I am not part Goblin, not at all.", Draco huffed on that. "It's a very dark shade of brown. My mother's. My father had hazel eyes, if it interests you."

"Had?"

"I have no idea where he went.", Severus sighed. "And to be honest, I am not really tempted to go looking for him. I'd rather live with the thought that he died somewhen than agonising about probable excuses he would present me with if I should ever meet him again.", he curled his lips.

"Okay. I take back everything. I'm better off than you.", Severus' weary smile returned as he lowered his head.

"Perhaps, I cannot tell."

"Did you ever – ` _get it off you_ ´?", spoken by someone else in that way, the words were like a knife to his heart, killing the source of the smile.

"No.", he answered, only after a while. "Though my mother knew.", his eyes moved over the blanket, something else in front of them once more. "We never talked about it. We never needed. She knew."

"Yeah. Like standing there and not doing anything."

"Not _being able_ to do anything.", Severus corrected him, his eyes back up. "What is that urge?", he changed the topic.

"Urge?"

"You have been fighting against some kind of urge the whole day long, I noticed. Though I have no idea what it could be. So? Whatever it is – let me know. I promise to keep calm on it."

Draco bit his lower lip, looking at him with narrowed eyebrows. Then he quickly leant forward and placed a hasty kiss on Severus' left cheek, flushing heavily as he sat straight again, unwilling to look at him. A little chuckle escaped Severus.

"You are welcome.", he said quietly and tousled the boy's hair.

"Hey!", that one murmured, waited a moment and did the same but used both hands, making Severus squint with a grin.

Laughing quietly, Draco's hands slid down the loose black waves and came to halt at the sides of Severus' neck, thumbs somewhere around the cheeks. In a long silence, they listened to the muffled sound of the shower. Hesitantly, Draco moved closer. He swallowed heavy when he observed the look on Severus' face. Moments that appeared like an eternity. Four eyes closed as their foreheads and noses touched.

"Thank you – ", Draco whispered before he pulled back, "For the sock.", he sighed, let go and turned, wrapping his arms around his knees. "And the bird."

For a while, Severus only watched Draco staring around into nothingness. Every now and then, the boy's eyes flicked at him. He moved up to the head of the bed and leaned back at it, his legs stretched out. Draco half turned his head, then fully. A second later, he stared straight through the room once more and curled his lips. His mother was still under the shower. It might have been something to worry about if he hadn't known that she liked to spend long times in there, especially recently. Severus however, did worry when the sound returned to his consciousness. Though his concern was erased within a moment.

Draco crawled up to him, flung one leg over his and sat down on his thighs. Questioning, he looked straight into those grey-blue eyes that were filled with sadness. The sadness became determination when the shower was turned off.

"I want to go with you.", Severus hesitated, unsure.

"Where?"

"The Ministry. You said, you'd have to watch it. I want to help."

"No.", from his look and tone, Draco understood that, whatever he said or did, this would be his only answer.

"But I can! You know I can.", he insisted, regardless.

"Quite certainly. Though it wouldn't be any help if you walked straight in there. I won't either."

"I'm not stupid. You said, those fake parents – "

"I will not let you bring yourself in danger by entering the Ministry under the disguise of Polyjuice Potion. It is _utmost_ dangerous, Draco."

"But not for you, right?", Draco snorted and crossed his arms. "It's never dangerous for you, of course."

"I have other ways to enter a forbidden place.", Severus raised his right hand at which glistened a golden ring, and Draco watched the hand become invisible and visible again.

"Sure.", he chuckled. "Then – "

"What kind of help would you be, if you'd have to hang on my arm all the time?", he noted.

"Then teach me."

"You imagine this to be so easy.", Severus head fell against the wall and he shook it lightly. "I know the naivety of youth very well. It has ruined my life.", he hissed, suppressing tears. "I will not let you ruin yours."

"But I want to do _something_! I can't just sit here and watch days pass! I want to get out and fight!"

"You know yourself that everything will be different when you are back in a fighting situation."

"Yeah. It will. It will be different from some months ago.", Severus frowned. "Wanna know why?"

"I am eager to hear, yes."

"Because – ", he drilled his right index finger into Severus' chest, "I finally have something I can gladly fight for.", Draco snarled, but his head rushed around as the door opened.

Quicker than a fly, he was off Severus and sat to his right again as if he had just been waiting there for her return. Narcissa was too tired to notice. When she looked at their now empty faces after she had closed the door, her shoulders dropped with a sigh. Draco slid down and under the middle blanket, fixating the ceiling. Severus lightly curled his lips with a sad look on him, then his eyes shortly drifted on Narcissa and eventually the window-side corner.

"So?", Draco grumbled.

"So, what?", his mother asked and walked over to the bed, sitting down to his right.

"No.", Severus said and moved beneath his own blanket, staring at the ceiling likewise.

"Fine. Then not."

"What is this about?", Narcissa comforted herself under the third blanket after she had placed her wand next to Draco's on the nightstand.

"Nothing.", both males murmured at the same time.

"Pardon?", she chuckled limply.

"It's private.", Draco whispered.

"I'm your mother!"

"It is private, Narcissa.", calm but definite words before silence laid over the room.

Minutes passed. Minutes in which Severus and Draco looked at the wooden ceiling that was there, but not for them. Minutes in which Narcissa eyed them with increasing fatigue. In the room behind them, Lucius gave a short, loud snore. Both Draco and his mother startled when the lights went out. Confused, she raised a bit and stared at the wall.

"That was me.", Severus mumbled.

Draco snorted a laugh through his nose and closed lips, smiling broadly. Narcissa snickered quiet and laid back down. Severus couldn't hold back a smirk either, but it was gone when Draco spoke.

"You think, Slughorn will let me in for NEWTs?"

"I thought, you don't want to go back?"

" _Just_ – _saying_ I would, what do you think?"

"You had an E in both his and Minerva's OWL."

"I know,"

"He will let you, I am certain. Minerva might, under the circumstances. But speaking of which, do you actually want to take a NEWT with Amycus?", Draco contorted his face in the dark.

"I'm not sure – I mean, the OWL would have been a waste. All the horror with Umbridge for nothing."

"Horror?", Severus chuckled. "Do I have to remind you that you joined her squad?"

"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about having to learn all that theory without being allowed to see what I learnt. Theoretical tests are – gruesome.", he moaned. "And I can do the Unforgivable Curses."

"Actually,"

"Alright – two of them.", Draco snorted. "But that's not the point, is it? I mean, he'll let me pass, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't be so sure. And, whom do you think, you will be demonstrating those on?"

"Oh well – I thought, I could just torture his sister, laughing like Bella, and blame it on the blood."

Lucius was deeply enough asleep to not hear the roaring laughter from the room behind his bed.

"Do you want me to kill us now, or shall I wait for you to have that fun?", Severus chuckled after about a minute.

"Dunno.", Draco grinned. "How strong was that Whisky? I couldn't read before I slammed it into the fire – "

"I believe, strong enough that a Giant could sing at his bed and he wouldn't hear it."

"Incredible."

"Yes. Just months ago you were yelling at me about being chosen and now you come up with such thoughts."

"Thanks to you.", the boy sighed and the smile on his mothers face faded as well, without notice.

"No, Draco. I know that you never wanted this. There was a time where you thought you might want it, just to impress him and then you thought it was on you to straighten out his _failure_. That is, I must say, a very brave thing to do; especially, considering you have grown up with a lack of confidence in serious situations.", Severus said softly. "Draco, if you really wish to finish your education, I will do my best to bring you through it without having to harm someone for getting you good marks.", the words were like ice on a severe bruise for Narcissa.

"Thank you.", both said at once, not possible to tell the voices apart.

"I think I'll – sleep now – ", Draco considered. "Goodnight."

"Good night, my darling.", Narcissa shortly stroked through his hair and laid her hand on his shoulder then, closing her eyes.

"Good night, Draco."

Under the blanket, a hand found the boy's left, fingers enclosing. They shut their eyes almost simultaneously.

~~#~~


	43. Chapter 42 - Just as sane as I am

– Chapter 42 –

 **Just as sane as I am**

Corpselike figures sat around a table and stared down on their breakfast. Heavy rain against the windows hammered in their ears. None of them was able to eat. The only somewhat shiny person at the table was Luna, but even she was far from happiness. Dreamingly as always, she watched the water run down the glass, though her expression was more one of a lonesome Banshee that would never be able to scream again. Every now and then, Ginny would be the only one to look at her. She wondered whether Luna was worried about her father. He had Disapparated from the wedding and not given them any sign of life since.

Something was out there. They all could feel it. It was like someone was watching them. A hungry pack of wolves, ready to attack the first living being that left the house. A knock on the door. Everyone but Ginny and Luna startled. The girls had been waiting for it ever since they had been told. Bloodshot eyes from the lack of sleep, they looked at each other. Mr Weasley raised, his wand in hand. Slightly staggering, he went for the door and looked out through the window in it. A tall man sneered inside, pressing an identification card to the glass.

"Good morning, Yaxley,", Mr Weasley said stiff and let the man enter.

In fact, that was the only thing he could do to save his family. Yaxley wasn't alone. Another two stepped in after him. They fitted the image of the hungry beasts that were supposedly watching The Burrow. Long faces, animal-like. All three of them grinned artificially. Molly Weasley was on her feet, looking at them ferociously.

"A very good morning as well.", Yaxley raised his deep, smeary voice. "I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour, but maybe you have read the _Daily Prophet_ already anyway."

"What do you want?", Mr Weasley said curtly.

"Well, since you're known to be familiar with the boy, it was the Minister's idea to send us for some questions. After all, that coward Harry Potter is still missing, even though the whole country searches for him. There are rumours he has been sighted with one of your children."

"And you believe, he might be here?"

"Oh I don't believe anything, lately. But I have orders, you see? Potter is the most important witness in the case of Albus Dumbledore's lamentable demise. And now he ran away. There are rumours already, that he might have even been behind Dumbledore's death in ways,"

Since two more people who had been on the tower stood right behind him, it couldn't have been a bigger lie. Ginny got up and walked towards them, coming to halt next to her father.

"And the other rumours say, he was seen with your youngest son – Rowan, or what was his name?"

"Ronald.", Mr Weasley said cold. "And he is upstairs, suffering from spattergroit."

"Then it must have been another of your kids, hanging around with Potter.", he looked along the table, visibly counting.

" _Well_ , you should know, that Potter is no longer a friend of this family."

"Ginny – ", her mother whispered.

"Shut it.", she snapped back.

"Ginevra,", her father warned but backed away immediately when she barked at him.

"I said, _shut up_!", the fury in her face could have been real. "Now,", she continued, speaking surprisingly calm to Yaxley, "If there is nothing important left to say, I ask you to leave this house."

"What d'you mean, by `no longer a friend´, girl? Wasn't he – your – _boyfriend_?", the twins behind him snickered like little children.

"I broke up with that filthy coward.", Ginny said coldly and crossed her arms.

"Did you, girl?", the woman to Yaxley's right said. "What an incredibly bad lie."

"Alecto Carrow, isn't it? I see. It might interest you, that I am close friends with your new boss. You don't want me to contact him so he can throw you out before you even started working at that pathetic school.", Alecto's grin froze. "Any words against me and you will experience what `influence´ actually means. I am sure, the Dark Lord will not be pleased to hear of your disloyalty,"

"You dare speaking of him, girl?", Yaxley murmured.

"I speak of whom I want. It has not escaped our notice, whom the so quickly appointed new Minister is working for. I must daresay, the change was badly needed."

There was not a single pair of eyes that didn't stare at her with shock; well, there was, but Luna tried her best to hide it. The three in front of her exchanged some surprised glimpses.

"The way you say that, it sounds like you might be a Death Eater?", Amycus Carrow asked. "I don't recall, the Lord has ever let Blood Traitors into his ranks?"

"You must know, I like it comfortable, even if this means that I have to share a house with a bunch of Blood Traitors and I also like my skin the way it is. I don't need any branding to tell me where I belong.", Ginny replied harsh. "Put one and one together, if you can. Should you not be good enough at simple calculations, I would be grateful if you didn't disturb my breakfast any longer. Otherwise I might actually find myself unable to wait until September. I am sure, it will take a long time to find more capable teachers to replace the two of you. So, the earlier he knows, the better, don't you think? Now, _if you don't mind_ ,", she pointed her arm at the door, "You know your way out."

Truly fascinated, the trio needed some seconds to realise that they had just been verbally overpowered by a fifteen year old girl. Without further words, they left the Weasleys' kitchen through the door they had come in and Disapparated. Suddenly, the feeling of being encircled, vanished from the house. Ginny took a deep breath, dropped her shoulders and turned to her family.

"Sorry, Mum, Dad.", she smirked.

"That was – _scary_!", Fred laughed.

"But epic!", George added.

"Horrible, though rather fantastic.", Bill nodded.

"Yes, really brilliant.", Luna grinned.

"Yeah. Threatening them with Snape – ", Fred shook his head, "Ingenious! They really _are_ afraid of him, it seems."

"I suppose so.", Ginny sighed. "At least I know now what might await me in September."

"The next year will be so much fun,", Luna turned back to her breakfast when Ginny sat down and started eating, lastly with a little joy.

"Snape?", Mr Weasley frowned and got back to his chair. "What makes you think that – "

"Haven't _you_ heard the rumours?", Ginny said immediately. "Everyone at the wedding was saying it."

"Er – no?"

"Well, there have been stories that, if the Ministry falls and You-Know-Who takes over Hogwarts as well, then he might make Snape the new Headmaster. You know, for killing Dumbledore and stuff. You said yourself that those Carrows are famous for being favourites of You-Know-Who. Malfoy's been talking about them quite a lot too and since he turned out to be a Death Eater, the case is clear. And anyway, they just confirmed that these rumours are true, didn't they?"

"Actually – yes – ", her father considered and added a chuckle.

"But you know what that means, Dad?", Bill noticed.

"What?"

"That they managed to get in yesterday and blow up the wedding, or now – Scrimgeour must have unknowingly told a mole about the Fidelius Charm on our house. That's how they could enter the barrier. It's down. We have to put up protection again."

~~#~~

Tiredly, he leaned on his right arm and studied the messed, blond, greasy waves, listening to the rain against the window. It was late morning already and a greyish light tried to force its way through the thick clouds, into the room. A bare shoulder could be seen between the edge of the white blanket and the fair strands. His right cheek on the white pillow and his mouth wide open, Lucius laid prone, vast asleep. Severus, still in his blue pyjamas, was recumbent on the blanket and stared at the back of his friend's head. In the doorframe, the latter's wife had her chin resting on her right knuckles, her elbow supported by her left fist.

"I would have sent him straight to hell a long time ago already, if I was you.", Severus said quiet.

"I could say the same.", Narcissa replied equally low.

"We are the only friends he has."

"You don't stand to him out of sympathy."

"No.", he said honest, lightly lifting a bundle of Lucius' hair in thoughts. "Even though he's a nasty, selfish git sometimes, I liked him from the beginning."

"I could say the same.", Narcissa repeated with a smirk, making Severus look at her, his eyebrow raised. "You are as imperturbable as he is.", his confusion was however gone in a second when Lucius moaned in his sleep. "He tends to react to such.", Narcissa snickered under her breath and nodded to Severus' hand still holding the hair. "His hair is his weak spot. Play a bit with it and watch me telling the truth."

"Narcissa – "

"Come on, he's still passed out."

"Are you actually forcing me to play with your husband's hair?", Severus chuckled.

"I'd like to see whether you get it right.", she thoughtfully bit her fingers with a terribly evil smirk.

Severus curled his lips for a moment, but then wiped some strands from Lucius face. Another moan. Not losing his childish smile, Severus stroked more hair behind the other man's ear. With every touch, he could see him move his lips with obvious delight. Severus then gently brushed through the thicker parts and Lucius let out a very questionable, quiet groan. Narcissa giggled into her hand, slightly blushing like Severus, whose eyes stood widely open. It was so bizarre, it was already irresistible. Severus let his fingers glide through the hair from his neck up. What Lucius moaned then, was rather unclear, but it was enough to make Severus blink.

"Did he just say ` _horse_ ´?", Severus startled and Narcissa gasped into her hand, spinning left in shock.

"You are up already, darling?", she sang, her hand on her mouth.

"Yeah.", Draco murmured. "What the heck are you two doing?"

"Your mother had a very peculiar paroxysm of perversity.", Severus grunted and pulled back his hand.

"Shush!", Narcissa giggled, into her hand again.

"I'll let him sleep, if you don't mind. I don't want to explain to him why his wife is close to suffocate, every time she looks at his hair.", Severus sighed.

"Yes.", she finally let go of her mouth. "We should let him debauch in memories of his schooldays."

"You know?", Severus frowned.

"Didn't you just say, I'm his wife?", she sang immaturely, her face at the ceiling as she slowly turned and went downstairs, her son staring after her.

"What was _that_?", he panted at Severus who had reached him.

"I think, she has a particular urge to act like a teenage girl today.", Severus smiled softly, his hand on Draco's left cheek. "Grant her the fun. She hasn't had much, lately."

"No. None at all.", Draco turned out of his hand and walked over to the stairs. "Give him some Sleeping Potion."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely.", he was out of sight. "I don't mind having lunch alone, if you know what I mean."

And again, words killed a smile. His lips ajar, he turned back to Lucius, a weary dolorousness drifting into his face when he approached his sleeping friend and carefully turned him onto his right shoulder. Life wasn't fair. Not really.

He pushed his arms under the man and lifted him from the bed. Stirring a bit, Lucius slowly woke up from the movement and the sudden change of temperature, as well as of course, the touch. When the bathroom door opened seemingly on its own, his grey eyes blinked at Severus, not fully able to see him in the gloomy, windowless room.

"Sev'rus?", he mumbled dazed and very quiet when that one sat him onto the toilet. "Where're we?"

"Bathroom.", Severus whispered, kneeling beside the older man. "You're sitting on the toilet now. Just let it flow."

"Huh?"

"Wake up!", he hissed with a snap of his fingers in front of Lucius' face, who immediately sat straight. "Get that damn booze out of your bladder or I'll let you wash the bed sheets by hand, if you spoil them."

"Are you forcing me to – "

"Yes."

Severus stood up, turned around and crossed his arms, waiting. Half a minute later, he was already studying the nails of his left hand in the very dim light coming in through the corridor, from the open doors of the bedrooms, but the only sound he heard, was a very quiet snore. Clutching his fingers with annoyance, he slowly turned back, only to see a slack Lucius spread-eagled against the tiles, his arms hanging down to his sides and the head with totally messed long hair askew on his shoulder, mouth open like a mute white lion that tried desperately to roar. Severus' lips curled as he stiffened and took the few steps back to him. A little rough, he straightened the head, shut the jar, held his left hand over the mouth and gave Lucius a finally wakening clap around the ear with the other.

"Ow!", he moaned into Severus' hand.

"Can you remember what I just told you?"

"Datchu like me ta – ", he muttered, his eyes as open as his mouth had been.

"Exactly. Now come on. Do it, then you can go back to sleep.", Severus murmured and let go of him, taking in the position from before.

Finally there was some splashing sound. And _what_ a sound. Severus sighed at how full to bursting Lucius' bladder had been. Glad that he had ventured the step, he waited for Lucius to win his battle with the toilet paper and turned once more. Another snap and the flush did its job. Severus dragged his friend over to the basin where he washed and dried his hands, and back to his and Narcissa's room. Blinded by the change of light, Lucius limply tried to cover his eyes with his left arm, but Severus shut the curtains magically while he gently pushed him over to the bed. A little clumsy, Lucius failed at the attempt of climbing under the blanket without help. All he could do when he was covered at last, was throwing Severus a thankful nod.

Seeing him falling back to sleep instantly, cost Severus a faint chuckle and smile. He patted Lucius head, but nevertheless rummaged for a certain bottle and a glass. eight drops in wandless conjured water went down an unconscious Lucius Malfoy's throat and a bottle as well as a glass, back into the pouch. Then he closed the door behind and walked down into the kitchen, where he found his breakfast ready and the other two eating.

~~#~~

Rivers of tears, cried for – hell only knew. The sky cried a lot theses days. Studying the cold flows running down the old glass, he stood in half light, a cracked wand held loosely between his long white fingers in front of his stomach. His mouth was ajar and his eyes drifted over the splashes of rain, blurring the view on the hedges below. Being in thoughts, his bare toes shortly crumpled on the dark wooden floor, drawing the attention of the gigantic snake that was rolled up to his feet. _Life is a huge maze and if you intend to find yourself at the exit, victorious, I suggest you consider your steps..but if you are so fixated that you do not see where you need help,_ _then I will unfortunately have to accept that you rather die on your path to glory than anticipating one, single, advice_..The words hammered in his head like the rain on the high windows.

On the sill, a number of bottles, lined neatly – filled with liquid as clear as the rain. He placed the broken wand next to them and picked one, his thin, white fingers wrapping around the cold glass. A plopping sound and the stopper was in his other hand. He sought through his slit-like nostrils. A perfect brew. Not a note away from what it should smell like. Footsteps approaching, the stopper was back in place.

It took him quite long to climb the stairs. Dragging the wet seam of a long black cloak across the floor, the tall man entered and came to halt some feet into the hall, where he made a short bow. His master's eyes however, were back on the window.

"You have asked for me, my Lord?", the deep voice spoke.

"Indeed, indeed. The time has come, Lysander, to see whether our dear Severus really is the greatest Potions Master of his age. Take this – ", the last word resounded as a hiss when he took a black pouch that laid on the sill as well and the bottles disappeared floating inside, "To Dolores Umbridge. It will be most useful for her in her new position."

"You have let him make this half a year ago, my Lord, in a rush of hurry. Why not having given him the time it would have needed? The potion might be – "

"Might be what, Lysander?", subsequent to a long sneer, the pouch slowly flew towards him and he grabbed it, still looking at his master with interest. "As I have said, this was a test – and since it could have been necessary to possess in the week after already, it was no wrong step. Do you question my decisions, Lysander?"

"Of course not, my Lord.", Yaxley bowed again.

"Good. Then this would be all."

"My Lord,"

He bowed another time and walked off, and with him, the rain was gone as well, like someone had turned off the tap. Frowning, what was left of Tom Riddle, glanced back at the high glass. With a swoosh, a window to his left jumped open, even able to make him startle. Momentarily annoyed, he slammed it shut with a flick of his hand.

~~#~~

Slowly, the sky cleared up. There were signs that it could actually become a bright summer's day. Everything glistened outside. Even the burnt down tent looked like a wondrous, shimmering cottage. Someone was wandering around between the fabric ruins, barefoot. Her fair mane divinely reflected the sunlight. Sitting on her desk at the window, Ginny watched her as she bowed to pick up something. It was one half of a big crystal bowl which had contained some apples. Those were spread all over the burnt grass around her. Dreamily, Luna held the glass against the every now and then drifting out sun and studied the light falling through or the shadows cast by the clouds.

"What are you doing out there, dear?", Ginny heard her mother call and Luna took her eyes off the broken bowl, still holding it up. "Get back inside, please. Arthur will take care of that all later."

"Alright, Mrs Weasley.", Luna sang, but apparently waited for her to be gone.

Then the girl drew her wand from her pocket, gave it a thoughtful wave and Ginny's jaw dropped. Flummoxed, she watched the rumble move. Objects soared towards the scene from everywhere on the grounds. Within less than a minute, the entire tent stood in the grass as if there had never been an attack. Only the grass was still burnt – and the half bowl in Luna's hand was fighting against her firm grip. She let go and it flew back into the tent, the apples following out of sight. Luna tucked back her wand and with a visible broad smile, she hopped into the house. Yes, the next year would indeed be rather _interesting_.

Eager to know more, Ginny jumped off her desk and hurried downstairs, where she found her mother talking to the girl again.

"The boys decided to play grumpy in their rooms and I can hardly ask Fleur and Bill to assist me at the moment. Now would you mind helping me with the dishes, dear?"

"Okay.", she said when Mrs Weasley turned to see who joined them.

"How did you do that?", the other ginger panted.

"How did I do what, Ginny dear?", her mother asked.

"Oh – you saw me?", Ginny nodded to Luna. "Well, my Dad tends to get a bit rough when he's frustrated. It can happen that he destroys half the house.", she answered like it was an everyday occurrence to witness. "So he taught me how to repair everything if he should be too far away with his thoughts to do it.", Luna answered and picked a plate to dry it manually. "Probably the only useful thing he ever taught me.", she sighed and her smile slid off with a shrug.

"What is this about?"

"Oh nothing.", Ginny shrugged as well and went over for another plate as she had no idea what else to do. "Luna just took some work off Dad's hands."

"And what would that be?"

"Nothing too special. We could just continue with the wedding."

Eyes gaping, Mrs Weasley put down the plate and dishtowel in her own hands and hurried to the door. The girls only giggled when they heard her scream.

" _Oh my god!_ ", her voice echoed in; immediately doors crashed open and people came running downstairs, Arthur ahead. "Oh my – _GOD!_ "

"Molly!", he cried. "What happened? Are you alright? Molly? Oh my – ", he gasped when he arrived at her side and saw what was going on.

"Oh mon dieu!", Fleur said, stopping at a window, Bill right behind her. "Mais c'est impossible!"

~~#~~

"When did she start again?", sighed Severus while washing an exceptionally honey-smeared plate.

"Again?", Draco chuckled, sitting on the buffet with his legs dangling and looked across the kitchen as well as the living room, through the window in front of which his mother stood under the roof over the veranda. "I can't remember that she skipped one of her cigarette days. Or at least she didn't when I was at home."

"Days?"

"Yeah. Usually it's the third of the month. Seems, she needed an acceleration.", he frowned.

"Interesting. So she never fully gave it up."

"You say, she stopped?"

"When she was pregnant."

"Oh. She smoked more often before?"

"Frequently. Ever since she was in her fifth year."

"Whow.", Draco lightly shook his head. "I didn't know."

"She was the youngest in that girls' gang. They nicked all sorts of herbs from the greenhouses and made their own cigarettes. The constant reek in the common room was quite annoying, but another good reason for me to spend my time with Lily. Did you ever try?"

"Once, last year. But you're right. It's disgusting. Dunno what it gives her. Dad used to smoke as well."

"I know."

"Sure. But when I started school, he must have strangely lost his interest."

"No. He found a different way to slowly kill himself.", Severus sighed again and gave the sink an emptying wave of his hand.

"Yeah. You might be right."

"I endorse neither, but I'd rather see him back at smoking, if I was to pick regarding the effect either has on him. Yet thinking globally, the booze wouldn't ruin everyone's air. Might turn out to be the hardest decision of my life; but again, I'd prefer if I could pick destroying all of both addictive substances in a blink."

He walked around Draco and sat himself to the boy's right, legs hanging down like his, shoulder to shoulder.

"How deep are the girls in the plan?", Draco spoke after a minute of silence.

"They know the basics.", an understanding nod and Severus looked at him. "You will have to be careful. All three of you. Alecto and Amycus may be dunces in some ways, but they are not to be messed with."

Draco gave him another nod and hesitantly moved his right hand in an attempt he wasn't sure of himself either, but Severus saw it and gently took the even paler hand into his. When their fingers intertwined, Draco leaned his head on Severus' shoulder and closed his eyes. Some seconds of uncertainty later, Severus nestled his cheek in the boy's hair likewise.

Minutes passed. Narcissa lit another cigarette. The rain was still forming a waterfall in front of her and on the window behind the two on the dresser. Draco's breath became more steady and he slowly began to slide along the other male's shoulder. Severus just stopped him by gently pressing Draco's head to his collarbone. Very quiet snoring, the sound similar to his father's. Suddenly Draco startled up with a sniff and bit his lips, trying to figure out what had happened. Severus tilted him back up with a smile.

"Do you want to go back upstairs?"

"Yeah. I need to change. These pyjamas always make me tired.", Severus couldn't help laughing.

"Oh shut up.", Draco joined in flatly and jumped off, forgetting about his hand; that pulled an unprepared Severus with him. "Oh my – sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yes.", Severus smiled broadly and pulled him close once more, briskly stroking down his head and upper arm. "Come, before you fall asleep again."

"I said, shut it.", Draco grumbled and let himself be dragged to their room, where he slipped free from Severus' hand and threw himself onto the bed.

There he crawled under Severus' blanket, pulling it over his face and waited for something to come. When nothing happened, he raised his head and looked around. Severus was gone. But where? He sat up more and gasped. Severus was lying right behind him, under the blanket as well.

"How – ?", Draco murmured, but Severus only presented him with a mischievous smirk. "Damn it!", he snorted and sank back down, turning to him in mid-move.

"I thought, you wanted to change?"

"Yeah. Just changed the plan, didn't I?", Severus laughed heart-warmingly to the ceiling.

"Going to bed after meals makes you fat.", he calmed down.

"Relax. 'Twas just breakfast.", the teenager grumbled and cuddled onto Severus' chest from the side. "How long will he sleep?"

"Long enough for another quiet breakfast.", Severus smiled sadly and put his arm around Draco's back.

~~#~~


	44. Chapter 43 - Wrapped in Colour

– Chapter 43 –

 **Wrapped in Colour**

Cloudy and grey, the morning greeted him through the windows. The light was so sombre, he couldn't tell a round time. It could have been ten but also just six o'clock. Yawning quietly, he stretched a little and rubbed his eyes, startling with a sniff. A black, hairy ball laid on the pillow to his left. Slowly, a warm smile drifted onto his face. When had he gotten back from the Ministry? He could hear his calm, even breath in the overall silence, and after a while, caught himself melting away with the peaceful sound. Embarrassed, he gazed over to one of the windows and tried to see the dim lit gloom behind the curtains. It was then that he understood it must still be early on the day. The few birds in the trees around couldn't be heard through the closed windows, which normally were no barrier to their song.

Very careful not to wake him, he crawled out of his side of the bed, slid into his slippers and – nearly fell over. His legs were still a bit weak. Cursing in his mind, he snuck to his wardrobe and got out a fresh pair of white pyjamas before he went for the door and left almost without a sound, closing it behind. The silence of the room laid on the rest of the house as well. After a short visit to the toilet and a rather uncomfortably waking encounter with slightly too cold water on his face, he walked downstairs, where he found his mother in one of the armchairs around the lit fireplace, reading a book in the mix of the warm shine and grey light from outside.

At the quiet sound of his slippers, she immediately looked up, smiling tiredly when she saw who approached her and put the book away. Smiling equally and leaning down over the side rest, Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders from slightly behind and placed a little returned kiss on her lips, cuddling his head to hers then. The words they exchanged, were only whispers.

"Dad's still asleep?"

"It's barely five, Draco. What do you expect?"

"Oh. Sorry. Had no idea what time it is."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Quite. You?"

"As good as I can sleep these days. And as you can see, I am up already because of that."

"D'you know when he came back?"

"About an hour ago."

"Did he say something? What happens in the Ministry?"

"Not a word. He looked extremely sleepy, if I think about it. More like he slept too long, rather than being awake for too many hours, however. He only said `Good morning – and good night´ and went up.", Draco sighed.

"So it's gonna be a quiet day then."

"Probably. Like the others."

"Fortunately."

"Yes, fortunately."

"I'm in the shower.", he gave his mother another kiss after she nodded approvingly and went back upstairs.

It was far more pleasant than his first meet with water today. Warm and comforting, the pearls ran down his skin, the scars on his chest. They were far away from war, but war was there, ever present. Every time Severus had gotten back from his secret watch of Ministry hearings, every time he left again, war shortly visited the house. And when he was gone, the house was empty. At least that was what Draco felt. His parents, constantly staring into space and dropping random brief and quiet conversations, were not much of a company and that his father avoided his looks since that incident on the evening of the Ministry's fall, added a bleak touch to the mood. So he had fled himself into reading on the big bed they had kept in their room. Sometimes he would also go for a walk outside, alone, when it wasn't raining. It had rained almost every second day – and if it had been for just some minutes.

As he enjoyed the water running down on him, he remembered last Sunday. It had been a wonderful bright day and Severus had – he had taught him how to swim. Something he had ever feared to admit, but the few colleagues of him that had gone swimming in the Black Lake, had always accepted his answer of `I don't want´ without arguments. As much as his father bore the rare gotten moments of Severus' presence in their new house. Draco knew why, but he didn't care. He didn't care about the jealousy. If he rather was jealous than doing himself what Severus did, it wasn't Draco's problem. He couldn't bother less. Even less than drying his hair properly, which he only rubbed with a towel. Slightly messed, the strands hung down all around his head, not having been cut in almost three months now. But, he didn't care about that either.

He only pushed them a little to the right so they wouldn't fully block his view and put on the fresh pants. The humid air in the bathroom and the warmth still lasting from the shower, made him feel that he would suffocate if he wore too much and since it wasn't really cold in the house due to the fire downstairs heating it up through the system of water pipes, he found that he could actually do without a shirt. So he returned to his room, walking into a surprising scene.

Almost flat on the blanket, only supported on his elbows, Severus laid there in his Oxford blue pyjamas and read a book that rested on his pillow, the curtain of tufty black hair concealing his face from Draco. That one put his worn pyjamas into the basket and laid the fresh shirt on the lid before he closed the door. Severus didn't look up from the book. So Draco decided to take a little more drastic action. He walked towards the bed, climbed onto it and half over Severus, sitting down right under his buttocks and lied down, back on back, his legs framing Severus' and his hands under his head, at around Severus' shoulders. He could hear the subdued snicker, but Severus didn't give in on the weight. Though he raised his voice in a whisper, just loud enough for Draco to hear him.

"And what is this, when you are done with it?", he smirked to his book.

"I may ask you.", Draco answered emotionless and closed his eyes. "Mum said, you came back – about an hour ago."

"You spent almost thirty minutes in the shower. So it is an hour and a half. And I have been here almost all night. I only felt the need to sleep outside."

"Outside?", frowned Draco without opening his eyes.

"On the veranda."

"Why?"

"I said, I felt like it."

"Did you sleep outside before?"

"Many times, actually. I used to do it more often in my childhood. Mostly in summers, of course."

"Isn't it uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. I normally carry enough blankets and pillows in my pouch to make myself the most comfortable bed on earth."

"I meant, what I do."

"Unusual, but not uncomfortable.", his left lower leg shot up, making Draco startle with a shriek at the touch.

"Hey!", he moaned, his eyes wide open now. "I still need my ballocks!"

"You do?", Severus snickered.

"Oh shut up. Not having a girlfriend now doesn't mean I want to live alone forever."

He heaved himself off Severus' back to that one's left, where he laid down on the pillow next to the book, or rather, his temple at the back of Severus' hand. His left hand under his head again, he reached out with his right and dreamily wiped some loose strands to join the black curtains, studying Severus face. The reading specs on his nose harmonised with the shape of his dark eyes behind and they made his features look a little less fierce, although glasses like such normally had the effect of making a person look significantly more like a teacher. But he seemed rather like a friendly uncle with them than the strict Professor he actually was.

Without realising what he did, Draco's fingers wandered over Severus' forehead and cheek, his thumb gliding over his nose. At the tender moves, Severus closed his eyes, tilting his head against Draco's hand as the stroking became more distinct. The nail of Draco's index finger brushed over a lightly parted pair of soft lips. Really not sure what he actually did there, he raised his head. It was difficult from his position. Seconds later, the finger was replaced, hesitantly. The next kiss was a little fuller and the following one not lone anymore.

How much time passed, they didn't know. Only Severus must have felt that Draco's neck got stiff and supported the boy's head with his right hand. Not long after, their kissing reached a depth neither expected. Both let go in the same moment, daze in all four eyes.

"I – sorry – ", Draco aspirated, but Severus cut him off.

"No. I am. I – I don't know – what made me – "

"But I started – I – oh god I – "

"Don't worry."

"You – "

"Draco, this was not the kissing of a person who feels something like this for me.", Severus said softly. "Believe me, I know."

"Something like this?"

"Well, you are not in love with me, or are you?"

"I – what? Er – you kissed me back – "

"Can't a man just be weak?"

"I – sorry. I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to hurt – "

"Hurt? Hurt whom, Draco?", moaned Severus and let go of Draco's head, which made it instantly fall back down onto his hand on the pillow. "You didn't even know what you were doing. So stop apologising."

The moan mingled with a smirk at the boy's doleful expression, followed by chuckling. Though just slowly, Draco couldn't help laughing either.

"I feel so stupid.", he huffed.

"No need to. We are both desperate, blatantly idiotic berks.", Severus sighed and, his hand beside them again, directed his look back on the pages before him. "Let us just be glad, you didn't start to whack me off.", a chuckle from Draco, this, in disbelief.

"You – sick fuck!", he moaned and slammed his flat right hand against Severus' upper arm, but the latter was prepared and didn't give in. "Stop smiling!", it was in fact a broad grin, the man gave his book. "And don't just go back reading! What a pathetic way to flee!", Draco murmured and sat up, his face at the lakeside window and his arms wrapped around his knees.

"I am not fleeing.", Severus mumbled and curled his lips to suppress another laugh.

"Sure.", Draco huffed. "And I'm not in love with you, if you want to know."

"That is good to know."

The following minutes went by in silence. Severus read on, though the content of the pages didn't fully reach his conscience. Something bothered him about the boy's attitude.

Draco stared into the grey outside, thoughts spinning in his head as well, mostly thoughts of guilt. Only that there hadn't been anything to regret. Some sort of demon told him that what he had done was actually supposed to disgust him, but it didn't. And why did Severus immediately think that he was – he was not nearly! He _adored_ him, but in the kind of way he had always wished he could be able to feel for the person still sleeping in the bed on the other side of the wall behind him.

It must be brutal torture for him, Draco thought. To watch what they had and wish he could be in Severus' place. But he wasn't. He had ruined that chance for himself long ago. And now he had to suffer from that torture. There wasn't enough pity left in Draco to spare him from that suffering. It would be a lie and he just couldn't lie to his own heart. Not anymore.

Draco turned around, so his legs laid on the blanket, knees bent again though, and his toes pointed up to the pillows. Still deep in thoughts, he carefully started to push up Severus' shirt. Severus startled, but didn't look up from the book. Letting the slub rest at his scapulas, Draco's eyes wandered with sadness over the long, crisscrossed scars on the pale skin he had seen before. He leaned a bit closer, putting down his right forearm on Severus' other side and tenderly trailed his left hand across the marks.

"Why – ", Draco aspirated. "Why do people do such things – "

"The things that drive us may be very complex, but in the end we are only human. And such defend the things that are dear to them; sometimes, whatever the cost. When something beloved is in danger, we do everything to prevent it from harm. And if that means that we – ", he broke off.

Draco had bent down in that weirdly wound up position and placed a soft kiss on his spine, in the middle of his back, where he then nestled his head at and hooked his fingers onto the rear parts of Severus' ribs, closing his eyes once more. Curled in, he laid there for a another silent while. Severus gave up reading and only gazed at the dark wooden head of the bed.

Setting one more kiss, Draco rolled out and laid down straight on his right. A giggle escaped him at the light touch to his toes and he tried to shake Severus off. But he continued playing with Draco's feet, knowing that it was the only part of his body he was ticklish at. Giggling heavily with his eyes closed, he fought and fought, though Severus had trapped his ankles with his hands and now nuzzled Draco's freshly washed, soft soles, pressing teasing kiss after teasing kiss on the sallow feet.

"Stop it!", Draco chuckled limply and Severus grinned against his toes.

A last kiss and nuzzle and Severus resumed his former position, setting his glasses straight. Calming down as well, Draco opened his eyes, finding them in height of Severus' left ankle, reminded of something else he had spotted several times over the past weeks, but never gotten a close look at. Just an inch below the blue seam, it hung gently around the ankle. The colours were absolutely unusual for him, Draco considered. Especially the pink note. Unable to stop himself, he brushed over the tight, tiny knots of yarn, studying the pattern. The anklet was still a little shiny and the colours clear, but he must have worn it for at least some months.

"I'll never understand you, will I?"

"Hope, that you never will. Hope, that your life will be a little more bright."

"It is – I think. I – ", he paused. "I have you."

Severus said nothing on it. There was nothing needed to be said. After some seconds, he decided to answer the question that must have obviously come along with Draco's touch, although the boy was already so good at Occlumency that he didn't want take on the hard try to intrude his mind.

"It was a birthday present."

"Birth- oh my god!", Draco fell to his bare back and clapped his hand on his forehead, wiping his still moist hair up. "Birthday present! I'm such an idiot! How could I've forgotten it! That crap's still – where the heck is it anyway?"

Seeing him rolling sideways all the way to the edge of the bed, cost Severus a little laugh. Draco jumped off clumsily and hurried to the open wardrobe where the picked up the plastic bag and pushed his arm in deeply to get hold of his school bag. Due to the books and a lot of other stuff still inside, it was rather heavy once it was out. He hung back the plastic bag, knelt down and started emptying the shoulder bag. Severus had put down his glasses at last, turned and sat up to watch him. Piles of books, messed up parchment, tattered quills, all sorts of sweets, a – pair of socks? Draco held the two up with a horrible grimace and threw them over his shoulder.

"Oh shut up.", he chuckled when Severus laughed brightly.

There. Finally. At the very bottom – and in a miserable state, logically. It was crunched and dirty and showed scratches all over. Feeling guilty again and hoping whatever was inside hadn't taken as much damage as the once so colourful little paper box, he ignored Severus' snickering and pushed off the messed light blue ribbon. The thing he pulled out though wasn't damaged at all.

"What the – ?", he murmured.

It had the same colours, with the exception of a light green instead of salmon and the pattern was exactly the same, only that the colours appeared on different elements of it. His eyebrows vanished in his loosely hanging down fair strands as he held the piece up high in front of himself with two fingers.

"Oh!", he sang. "That's why you giggled!"

"Ten points to Slytherin.", Severus smiled broadly at Draco's more than surprised face.

"Hey! Term hasn't even started!"

"Pardon me. Force of habit.", his smile became waggish and he winked.

"But she's – ", Draco's eyes zoomed back at the anklet. "She's crazy, isn't she? I mean, how come she think, I'd wear that?"

"Won't you?"

"I will – but – "

"Then she isn't.", the boy looked back at his smile that had gotten soft again, his head tilted a little to his left shoulder.

"You – think – ", there was some warmth rising in Draco's face he didn't like at all. "You think she knew? That I wouldn't open it? Until – but – that's – "

"I think, Luna has a very special gift. I wouldn't say, she's a Legilimens, or even a Seer, but she has a talent for seeing the truth in peoples' eyes, from which she quite successfully constructs a personality with all its habits and exceptions. She studied you. She knew exactly where you were going while nobody cared for it and no, I don't think you are the only one she studies. She sees the world with different eyes. That doesn't bring her friends at first, but it eventually brings her _true_ friends – and not only her. If I may say so, there is supposedly not a single thing she doesn't know about the people wandering around and past her. It took me a very long time to understand that, and I still don't fully do, but I believe, that is exactly what she is. She is sorting the world from behind, unnoticed, restoring all the good things to our consciousness – things we forgot to see long ago."

"That sounds, like she's – ", Draco's hand sank to his lap, "Some kind of – angel?"

"Probably,", Severus considered with a nod into space. "Yes, that could be a good word to describe her."

"Now that I think about it, she even looks like she could be one."

"Maybe. Is that what you associate with an angel's look?"

"Not necessarily – I mean, if such exist, they wouldn't all be shiny white figures, right? Because that would be too obvious and people would be like – Muggles aware of our world, if you know what I mean. Begging for help they don't really need and so."

"I know exactly what you mean and that is also my opinion. I think, angels look as different as one human being doesn't look like an other. And it is on us to see them and quietly accept their help with humble gratitude."

Draco took another look at the piece of knotted yarn and carefully bound it around his right ankle. It fitted as though she had measured his leg. Shoving the surprise aside, he got up, walked back to the bed and crawled towards Severus, who was still smiling. On all fours, he looked deeply into Severus' dark eyes and gave his closed lips a kiss exactly like the one he had given his mother downstairs. Severus brushed a hand through the boy's cold wet strands and shortly stroked his cheek, not losing his smile. Then suddenly, Draco hung around his neck. Two warming arms completed the embrace, four eyes closed.

~~#~~

They had accelerated the special day so everyone could celebrate with them. Days for celebration had become rare anyway and it had been Ginny's wish to have them all around, which would have been impossible on a Monday. So, glad that even the _new_ Ministry rested a little on Sundays, they still sat around the lunch table at half past three, chatting about this and that. By then, they had already formed groups. Her parents and Kingsley at one side of the table, negotiated Order affairs quietly. The twins, Remus and Tonks discussed a more lively matter: the new joke-shop in Diagon Alley. Percy, Bill and Fleur were talking about countries and cultures and – landscapes. She was just raving about the lavender in the Provence, when Luna took the very last cold onion ring and dipped it into sauce.

After some days at home, she had returned to The Burrow for Ginny's sixteenth birthday. Her father had been a rather unpleasant company since the attack on the wedding and the horror of the past days stood clearly in her face, even though she tried to hide it – or something _inside_ her tried to cover it with her usual dreaminess and an absent smile.

Ginny took a glance past Tonks' left shoulder. They all had placed the presents on the small table that was surrounded by old armchairs and the sofa in the abutting living room. She hadn't wanted a cake, but had unfortunately been unable to stop her mother. So there was a chocolate cake with raspberry jam filling and green icing; topped by little red and golden marzipan Snitches and Quaffles; waiting in the fridge. From Luna's look, Ginny knew she was raring to try it.

"Phew!", the _holey_ of the twins sighed, crossed his arms in his neck and leaned back. "I'm so starving!"

"Now George – ", his mother murmured, "Don't be such a – "

"He wants cake, Mum.", Fred noted. "Not slurs."

"Well. Ginny, dear – is your stomach ready?"

"Luna's is.", she sighed with her eyes on the girl that gave her a broad smile on it.

"It is not Luna's big day."

"But it would make me happy to see her happy. So, cake please?"

"Alright, alright!", her mother brandished and went for the fridge.

~~#~~

A few hundred miles away from that fridge, a fire crackled lonely in its chimney, abandoned. But the silence in the house was so immense the sound of it appeared like a hundred hammers thundering. Therefore the scratching of the fork over the empty plate was not much of a relief.

"Could you stop that?", a broken voice whispered, but the fork continued scratching, ignoring the present, as the mind that made it was focused on the impending. "Draco!", he hissed, but the boy remained indifferent.

"Draco,", another man said, but calm and soft. "There is still some more in the pan. Would you like it?"

"No. But thank you.", Draco sighed, not taking his eyes off the plate and scraped on.

"Draco!", it was Lucius again. "Stop it!", but the refusal couldn't have been more obvious. "You're damaging the plate!"

"This fork, according to the embossing, is made of steel, which has Mohs hardness of six.", Draco said grim.

"What?"

"The plate is a high quality ceramic and its glaze has a hardness of seven."

"What are you talking there? What hardness? And what is Mo– "

"If I damage something, then it is the fork, not the plate. Oh yes, _father_. I am not stupid. I care for what I abuse.", he huffed. "Rather like you."

"Now what's that supposed to mean."

"Lucius. Let him.", Narcissa moaned.

"No, I won't. Draco, I need a word with you.", he heaved himself up and staggered over to the doorframe. "Now!"

The fork was slammed on the tabletop so hard that two empty glasses fell. Severus could just catch the one in the near, but the other rolled off the edge and burst into pieces as it hit the floor. With a sigh, he picked his wand from next to his own empty plate and repaired the glass, which soared back onto the table as though nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Draco had stomped past his father, out into the living room, where he stopped in front of the fireplace, arms crossed, staring into the flames with fury. Supporting himself on his walking stick, Lucius had caught up and approached him.

"Draco. What was that nonsense for.", he addressed him in a whisper again since his condition wouldn't let him speak louder yet.

"If you call it nonsense,", the boy grumbled.

"Draco. Look at me.", he had walked around him, but Draco had turned his head to the window. "What have I done to you.", Draco shivered when his father placed his empty hand on his shoulder.

"Oh – I don't know. Why don't you ask yourself?", he snorted.

"Please help me understand you – "

"Why. Aren't you supposed to be the adult and I the – _little boy_? Aren't adults always wiser than children? If you haven't noticed, I've grown up. I'm seventeen."

"You are still my son."

"Since when."

"Since you have been born, Draco.", his shaking hand wandered over Draco's hair and cheek, barely touching him. "Since you have been born, my beautiful.", he moaned and his trembling fingertips tried to rest on his son's lips. "Since – ", he winced when the hand was pushed away with unexpected force.

"Don't you – ever – touch me like that again.", Draco snarled. "I'm not your toy,", he murmured; the look he gave him was a mix of fatigue and disgust, "Not anymore.", and he lightly shook his head.

"You were never a toy. Why would – "

"Then why does it feel like I was?"

"You are my son, Draco. Nothing less, nothing more. I love you."

"You should have realised earlier."

"I always loved you."

"Oh sure. In which way?"

"Which – Draco! _You are my son!_ There is no `which´!"

"Tell me, why don't I believe you?"

"That is what I ask _you_."

"Well, it's simple. You never showed it how you should have."

"Showed it? How I sh– Draco! I have been caring for you all your life! I gave you everything – I – "

"What did you give me.", his arms were crossed again. "A huge empty house, a garden maze that swallowed me any time I even thought about entering it, a wide meadow behind the family grave I wasn't allowed to approach, a forest on the other side of a high wall, a _prison_ , Dad. You gave me a _prison_. You bought me nice clothes – presented me with jewellery I never wanted – ", he took off his great-great-grandfather's ring, seized his father's hand and forcefully placed it there before he dropped the slack fist, "Bought me brooms – books I never read – "

"You never read – "

"The only books I read where those I secretly bought myself. Well, yes. You gave me a lot. Things other children can only dream about – and things I came to understand that no child should ever receive from a parent. But do you know what I dreamed about? I dreamed about the day I ran out into the rain and threw myself onto the ground, rolling in the mud. I dreamed about hurrying over the meadow, playing with my best friends. I dreamed about being able to climb the wall and explore the forest, about the day we two went fishing. I dreamed about the day we took two of those brooms you bought and flew over Britain until we got tired. I dreamed about playing Quidditch with you, instead of flying up and down the manor's front alone, accompanied by your nagging. I dreamed about all those days you took me in your arms and said that you love me more than anything, rather like what _you_ did to _show_ me that. I dreamed about the day you said that you were proud of me. But _guess_. I'm seventeen now. And none of those days ever came."

"Draco – ", Lucius just aspirated.

"I sick of dreaming in vain. Stupid enough that I needed a dead bird slammed against the back of my head to wake up. So don't you tell me now that I have ever been something else than a puppet to you. It's too late."

"This war is confusing you."

"I'm not confused!"

"That house here does weird things to your brain. Just listen to what you say there. Dead birds – puppet – honestly, Draco – we should go back to the Manor. You will see, everything will be fine again."

"You don't get it, you fool! It's not the house we _are_ in! It's the house we _were_ in! I'd rather drown myself in that lake voluntarily than going back to your _Manor!_ _That_ house never felt like home to me! I feel comfortable _here!_ If you want to crawl back into your prison, just go; I won't stop you. I stay here. Because _this_ house here _does_ feel like a home. Once in my life I feel safe at a place – once I feel comfortable – I feel actually loved by someone else than Mum – and all you want to do is taking it away from me. Just like you took away my dreams. Like you took away my childhood. You wanted to make a little prince out of me, but I'm not. I'm not your prince or your – _beautiful_. And I feel ashamed that it took me seventeen years of my life to understand that you abused me for your reputation. That you fed me to show off with me. To impress your acquaintances – or converse – or whatever you wanna call them. But I tell you _one_ fact: it has brought you _nothing_! You didn't form me, you _broke_ me! Your insufferable pride blinded you!"

"Now let me tell _you_ something – ", Lucius became angry as well.

"No, I'm not done yet!", Draco hissed. "And I won't let myself be stopped by your desperate tries to save the very pride that has kicked you into the deepest pit of the society you cherished so much that you forgot to see how others might feel about it. All the time you were grooming your so-called friends, you forgot _one thing_. Your _family_. I can't understand how Mum can still love you, but that's her business anyway, not mine. You've fed the wrong people in the wrong ways. All I ever wanted was a father, but what you gave me was an emperor I had to bow to."

"That is not – "

"I'm ashamed to notice that I've acted like a dog, loyal to his master all the time, not questioning a single matter – and ignoring personal desires. I've given up all my dreams for the mere hope to see you proud. But you never showed. I've done all you wanted – obeyed without question – and all I get from you is ignorance. The same ignorance you gave the rest of the world. The same ignorance that made _you_ too blind to see that you have been buttering up people that never saw anyone as a friend, especially not you. The only friend you have is sitting over there in the kitchen – ", he pointed his arm to where they had come from, "And he has been more a father to me in the past weeks than you have been in seventeen years. If you excuse me, _Dad_ , I am upstairs, reading a book I bought myself!"

Draco spun on his heels and stormed off, nearly knocking Severus over who had raised and listened at the foot of the stairs. But he was too upset at the moment. So he rushed further upstairs and disappeared, a slamming door being the resounding hint on where he went. His arms crossed as well, Severus turned and took the few steps into the living room, where Lucius hung limply on his walking stick. When he lifted his head to look at him, all his weakness seemed to be blown away. He straightened and threw him the most loathsome look.

"Get out of this house.", he said grim, but still quiet.

"No.", Severus replied curtly.

"I said, get out of here. I don't want to see you anywhere near my son ever again. He says, you're my friend? A _thief_ , that's what you are! You stole my son!"

"You have kicked him out with ` _free for adoption_ ´ written onto his forehead. I told him that you love him. I wiped away that writing. I left him the choice to do with his life whatever he wants to. It is not my fault if he loves me more than you. I merely did for him what I expect from a friend myself. You cannot receive all the time, but never give, Lucius. Of course, I accept that it is hard for you to show him how much he means to you."

"You don't understand, Severus."

"I understand it more than you would ever dare to imagine."

"Tz. Empty words."

"There is a slight chance that Draco might come back to you. But don't expect him to do and apologise. He is not the one to feel sorry. He has done you no wrong. And it is _not_ my intention to steal your son."

"That looks slightly different to me,"

"He came to me on his own account, long after I offered him my help. He came when I had given up the hope he would take it before he fell too deep. Fortunately he woke up early enough to pull himself out. Yes, I needed to act to save him; and you said that yourself; but I haven't taken your son away from you. You dropped him in a pond of ice and expected him to swim while you never taught him how to do that in even lukewarm water. I am your friend, Lucius. I am his friend. I solely couldn't let him drown."

"Severus,"

"The rest was ever on him. _If you excuse me_ , I need to calm him down once again and try to tell him that you do indeed love him, even though your attitude has shrunken any possible beliefs of success on the matter to a minimum level, even lower than the chance that the Dark Lord will ever seriously fall in love with anyone but himself."

~~#~~

"Now come on! Open it!", the twins sang at their sister.

"I'm trying, you morons.", she laughed, turning the even cube in all possible directions. "But if you told me how to, I'd do it. What the heck is this?"

"It's an Incubus.", said George.

"Sure."

"Yes.", Fred winked. "The present is _in_ the _cube_."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, guys. Oh damn it – would it break the present if I just tore this open magically?"

"You're not allowed to use magic at home, sister-heart.", now it was George who winked, stroking the purring Crookshanks that had rolled in on his lap.

"Oh come on. Mum won't kill me, will she?"

"I don't think I will kill you for using a Severing Charm, dear. There are enough adults around."

"Yes. We're around.", sang the twins again.

"I was not talking about you two; now tear it open. Anything that breaks their madness is welcome.", Ginny put down the cube on the short table and crossed her arms.

"Mum!", Fred murmured. "She's on our side! You can't just tell her to break our madness!"

"Oh don't be silly, you three.", their mother brandished. "Go open it, Ginny."

"And don't use magic.", meant George. "That'd be fatal. Better love it."

" _Love_ it.", Ginny murmured eyeballing him.

"Yeah. And – ", he picked the green box and examined it, "This way's up.", he turned it around and handed it back to her. "Go for it."

"What."

"It's obvious, isn't it?", Luna smiled. "Love it."

"Love it.", Ginny repeated. "Hang on – am I supposed to kiss that or what?"

"Just imagine it's Harry.", Fred wiggled his eyebrows once more, in a mock sententious tone. "Just think of his _eyes_ – don't they have the same colour?"

"Oh shut up.", smirked Ginny and placed a kiss on top of the cube, earning cheerful applause from the twins and even some laughs from all others. "I said, shut it.", she grinned and gazed at the lid that opened. "Damn it – that's one crammed box,", she chuckled and tried to pick a tiny bright orange box with a golden sticker that was stuffed into it among many others. "Whow – what's that?"

"Careful.", she placed the cube on her lap and opened the second with caution, taking out a walnut-size orange crystal. "Highly explosive stuff."

"Fred! You can't give your sister a bomb for her birthday!", their mother raged.

"Keep calm, Mum. She's not gonna blow up our house. That's just in case Snape gets nasty. But blowing up houses could fit."

"Someone broke into our shop and stole one of those.", continued George. "Just one. But we know where it went. Fortunately it was an ally. You know, the night Dumbledore died – someone blew up Borgin and Burkes.", Ginny narrowed her eyes, Luna's only gaped with delight.

"Don't look at me like that, Molly.", Arthur said. "I haven't told them. They work in Diagon Alley. It would have needed a miracle for them to not find out. The whole place was still gleaming and smoking a week after."

"Exactly. And that's the effect those things are said to have. The whole shop's gone. And that,", George reached into the pocket of his purple vest, "Came crashing through our second floor window.", he showed her a silver handle.

"That's from – ", she took and examined it, "Ruddy."

"The goddamned Vanishing Cabinet Malfoy used. We've seen the twin when Montague got stuck in it, but we'd never thought there might be something to it. And that tosser figured it out.", Fred shook his head. "Anyway, I think,", he reached out and snatched it back from her, "We'll frame that in the shop to show everyone how grand this explosion was."

"Yeah. Do that.", Ginny secured the crystal by closing its box and devoted to the big cube again. "Hell – what's that all? That's – an arsenal!"

"An arsenal.", confirmed the twins mutually.

"And you dare to give that to me in front of Mum?", only her eyes gave the woman a split-second glance.

"Well, that's what this here is for.", Fred gave her another parcel, this time it was wrapped in star-covered red paper. "You'll need it, I'm sure."

"Mokeskin – ", Ginny aspirated when she had unpacked the pouch. "Got inspired by Hagrid, or what?", she chuckled.

"Actually, Hagrid got the idea from us – and yes – he bought that one with Harry's. He's got better contacts on such.", the girl hastily closed her new `toy-box´ and shoved it into the pouch for checking the other content in a more secure place.

"Thanks a lot, you two. Let's hope, I don't need any of that."

"If not, use it after the war on some stray Death Eaters."

"George!", now it was their father. "That is the Ministry's business! Not your sister's,"

"All the same, if she becomes an Auror."

"You want to become an Auror, dear?", Molly moaned. "You didn't tell – "

"I played with the thought. But I'm not sure. Just let me graduate first, if I can."

"Oh that's our daughter.", she smiled with relief, but to Ginny's delight ceased from a cuddling hug. "Now come on. Open the rest."

"Zere ees only one more to go.", Fleur retrieved it from the pile of paper on the table. "Uh – and eet ees very little."

"The best comes last, I guess.", meant Ginny and Luna grinned broadly.

"What could be better than Fred's and George's?", chuckled Bill when she studied the small, colourful, pentagonal paper box, not bigger than the orange one had been.

"Luna – ", Ginny aspirated and looked at her with confusion. "What's that!"

"Just open it,", the other girl only smiled and Ginny did as said, eventually pulling the present from it.

"Oops,", Fred mumbled, suppressing a grin.

"Shut up.", her eyebrows narrowed at the knotted band of yarn she held up before her face.

"It's an anklet,", Luna clarified.

"Yeah – thought so – it – would be – too long – for my wrist – thank you.", she frowned back at the piece. "Really."

"You're welcome!", Luna's smile grew bigger when Ginny bent down and bound it around her left ankle.

"What's so special about that?", Fred asked.

"Now don't be so mean.", Molly hissed.

"Oh he's not mean, Mrs Weasley. He's just curious.", said Luna.

"Yeah. And you'll never get to know.", Ginny was back up. "Neither of you. That's insider knowledge."

"Insider knowledge.", George repeated her.

"Yes."

~~#~~


	45. Chapter 44 - Dignity

– Chapter 44 –

 **Dignity**

Whispers filled the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fire burnt in the big chimney and the floating candles were lit. The fire-bowls hanging from the Gargoyles around the walls however, remained dark. A lightning bolt shot across the bewitched ceiling and thick, heavy drops of rain throbbed against the high ancient windows. The amount of students sitting at their house tables was depleted, creating holes everywhere. Many families wanted their children rather around at home at such times, but it was only a matter of time until they would be tracked down and either forced to attend school or – worse. Others had left the country already. Some had done so instead of bringing their children to Kings Cross Station by the time they had read the _Daily Prophet_ in the morning. There was however a number of students that were not to speak about how they managed to be _allowed_ back at Hogwarts.

In the middle of the staff table, the throne-like chair was deserted. To each side, wearing identical grey robes – two new faces, resembling animals in ways. Sitting equally straight, the twins looked around. To the woman's side, Minerva McGonagall and Pomona Sprout, both very concerned and visibly strained, next to the man, Horace Slughorn and Filius Flitwick, no different in expression. Only Professor Flitwick looked a little more angry.

The whispers died when the backdoor opened and a black figure strode over the podium. Almost all eyes were on him, but he simply ignored them, walking straight towards Professor McGonagall. She had neither noticed the silence, nor the looks. Therefore she slightly jumped with a quiet, brief shriek when he placed his hands on the backrest of her chair and whispered into her ear. Shocked, she stared straight forward, not believing what he had just told her and how much he took it for granted that she would do as he said. He raised and walked around Alecto Carrow, sitting down in his new throne for the first time. Everyone in the hall missed the discomfort he did it with. Everyone but six girls, equally divided over the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table, as well as a Slytherin boy.

He waited for some seconds, his eyes gliding across the empty plates. Then he slightly leaned forward, looked at Minerva and lifted an eyebrow. She did the same, almost simultaneously. Some students couldn't fully hold back a suppressed chuckle. It was indeed a bizarre scene. Especially since the Carrows sat there like two grey pillars, staring down on him as if he had just said an unforgivable swear word.

"You – you mean that?", Minerva aspirated, eyes wide open.

"I beg your pardon?", he murmured quietly, distorting his face.

"You – you really mean that?"

"Of course I mean that!", he hissed. "What kind of question is this!"

One moment later, Minerva was gone and hurried through under the staff table, along the middle corner towards the big door, her small furry legs downright flying over the stone-floor. Reaching the door, it opened and she transformed back, only to nearly run into Hagrid who had begun to worry and had stomped past the soaking wet first-years, who had a hard time peeking around him.

"Blimey, Professor.", he gasped.

"Goodness sake!", she aspirated, holding a hand to her heart. "Why did you come up with them rather than – "

"Well, yeh know, 'em Dementors an' all an' I wanted ter go back already but then I wondered wha' took yeh so long an' I though' he might've – "

"Never mind, Hagrid. I – "

"He let yeh, Ma'am?", Hagrid chuckled grimly, his eyes piercing into the Headmaster's all across the hall.

"Keep your voice down!", she hissed. "And get in!"

"Yeah, Ma'am. Or he'll throw my out, righ'?"

"Hagrid – please – "

"I'm goin' already.", the Half-Giant grumbled, changed places with her and went on, the doors closing between them.

Students, mostly Gryffindors, gave him sad smirks as he paced through the hall as gentle as a man of his size could. All the way up, his eyes didn't break contact with Severus'. Just when he turned to walk around the staff table, their looks would part.

Outside, Minerva had composed herself.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, first-years.", she swallowed to clear her throat. "I am sorry we could not arrange a better weather for your arrival.", that lifted the mood of the trembling children a bit. "Anyway, before you sit down with your new classmates and housemates behind these doors, you will have to be sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.", she couldn't believe how many times she had done that and now he actually let her do it again? "Each of those Houses has brought our world remarkable witches and wizards, so there is no need to treat any of another House like the worst thing on earth. The sorting ceremony is nothing to be afraid of either. Our ancient Sorting Hat, once belonging to one of Hogwarts' founders, is very wise and will judge each of you objectively and by their talent and personality. Yes, nothing to be afraid of.", she ensured, looking straight at each of the now more concerned children. "If you would follow me please,"

She turned on her heels and the heavy doors opened again before her, leading the young witches and wizards in a crocodile through the middle corridor. And as she did, she had regained all her pride. She felt like she could blow up the entire castle just with a flick of her wand. With such a move, astonishing not only the first-years, the bowls along the walls burst into flames one after another and cast the hall in a brighter and warmer shine.

Some students gave satisfied nods, accompanied by confident grins. Nobody noticed the flicker of a smile rushing over Severus' face, before his expression got cold and prepared once more, just as if he had meant her to do that – or didn't care whether the hall was light or dark.

With the grace of a goddess, she strode up to the podium, small feet pattering after her. Argus Filch had already brought the stool with the hat and placed it in front of the Headmaster's chair, in the exact middle of the podium's space encircled by the U-shaped staff table. Minerva's expression was as unconcerned as Severus' when she spun around and came to halt next to the stool.

"Please line up here.", she waved her hand, her wand back in her sleeve. "Thank you."

"Yeah. Tha's McGonagall.", Seamus said under his breath, gritting his teeth that were missing one at the front, with a murderous grin. "Show tha' tosser wha's wha' here."

"Seamus,", Ginny hissed a warning. "Don't let him hear that."

"An' if?"

"A bit of silence, please.", the head of Gryffindor called into the whispering hall. "Thank you."

The Sorting Hat made a noise like clearing his inexistent throat and, to the surprise of many in the hall, started his annual song. Severus leaned back, his elbows on the side rests of his chair, the tips of his fingers touching; a golden ring on his right hand glistened in the lights. However, the song would be a short one this year.

 _More than a thousand years ago_

 _In times of witch and wizard's glory_

 _Lands cover'd all in white_

 _In a winter cold and frory,_

 _My master took me off his head and said to me_

 _`You'd be our judge from now´_

 _`Tell thoroughly them where to be´_

 _`And where the students are to bow´_

 _`Seek their talent in their minds´_

 _`Unveil their deepest self´_

 _`And row them along with all their kinds´_

 _`Before back on a shelf.´_

 _From there on it had been my task_

 _To chose what's right, what's wrong_

 _To search their brains and then at last_

 _Pick out any wits and prong._

 _Though it is not only what there yet,_

 _It matters what there grows,_

 _And through years of development_

 _Our true nature shows._

 _Who once was friend be enemy now_

 _And evil may be good_

 _For all I figured out somehow_

 _Predict, I never could._

 _I only say what I see here,_

 _Not what will future bring_

 _So not just judge from what seems dear,_

 _Let unity begin._

No one clapped this year, which made the hat frown evidently. Everybody just stared at Severus Snape, who seemed to be the most unimpressed person existing. Fingertips still together, his eyes found Minerva's, making it clear to her that if no one was willing to give the hat some recognition, she should begin the sorting. She waited some more seconds and – Luna Lovegood started to clap enthusiastically. Hesitating, Padma Patil joined her. Then Ginny clapped, loud and clear. Next in the row was Padma's sister. The Creevey brothers, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. Finally the rest of their houses went in, as well as some of the staff and, loudest, Hagrid, making Professor Vector wince at every move. Relieved, the hat let out a sigh and fell still. Only the Slytherins sat as silent as Severus and the twins to his sides.

It was just a mere gesture of him that ended the applause, before he laid his fingers into their former position. A short stiff nod to Minerva and she picked up the hat and roll of parchment beneath. With a sigh and coughing slightly afterwards, she raised her voice.

"Very well, first-years. I will now call one after one and you will step forward to sit down, waiting for the hat's decision."

"Very well, yes.", Ginny whispered.

"Came up short, didn't he?", Parvati winked.

"But long enough."

"Yeah. Unity. How d'ya think he meant tha'?", Seamus chuckled sarcastic.

"He meant it just like he said it.", Ginny countered harsh.

"Slytherin!", the hat shouted.

"Oh wonderful. So much 'bout the unity.", Neville sighed.

"What do you mean by `just like he said it´?", Nigel asked.

"Well, no judging. We can't see into anyone's heart and mind and therefore we shouldn't fight about things we can't tell for sure."

"Hermione's got some influence on you, you know?", snickered Parvati.

"Oh drop it. I can grow up on my own, _you know?_ But it's obvious, isn't it?"

"Hufflepuff!"

"You see, not what you judged at all.", she noted. "And what I meant, look at him. What do you see?"

"Jus' wha' I said.", Seamus answered. "A big tosser, enjoyin' 'imself up there."

"That is what you _want_ to see.", she tried to make it as professional as possible, not letting slip through that she actually knew something. "I'm not fond of what he did either, but he sent McGonagall, didn't he? He let her light the fires without complaint. Just, for once, _look at him_. Or on how long the list is."

"So you say – ", Parvati started.

"I just say.", she broke her off nevertheless. "We shouldn't judge unless we know the truth."

"Ravenclaw!"

"That'll make us last.", sighed Fay.

"Honestly.", Ginny snorted.

They though had the chance to welcome quite a number of new Gryffindors. A long, long while into the rainy evening, the last name was called rather sympathetically. It was always the first and – second-last names that had the biggest effect on the first-years, naturally. McGonagall rolled in the parchment and Filch came stumbling over to take away the stool and hat.

The whole hall fell silent once more when he tilted up the tabletop in front of him, his plate, goblet and cutlery gliding aside. He rose from the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table and walked forward on the pedestal, followed by the Carrow twins, both positioning themselves to his sides, a little behind. For a trained eye it was more than obvious that he was utterly uncomfortable by the fact. He crossed his arms, his dark eyes wandering over the students, those staring back with fear, insecurity, anticipation and interest. Another glance around, waiting for Minerva to sit down, he took a thorough breath and raised his deep voice, as calm as ever, making each and everyone shiver.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, and for those who decided to return, welcome back. It pleases me to see how many families still put value in the education of the young generation.", several eyes narrowing with increasing interest, some shaking heads in disbelief. "Some of the older ones might have noticed the change in staff. Head of Slytherin House is now Professor Horace Slughorn, who is teaching the fine art of Potion-Making.", Slughorn shortly waved his hand dull and feeble. "The two you see standing at my sides, will be assisting me as Deputy Headmasters. They are as follows, Professor Alecto Carrow, who – takes in the place of deceased Professor Charity Burbage in the subject of Muggle Studies,"

She gave the anxiously whispering students a horrible sneer. Some of them had still believed the _Prophet_ 's explanation that their Professor Burbage was on advanced education abroad.

"And Professor _Amycus_ Carrow, who vaguely replaces myself as the teacher of a subject dealing with what is to be treated with more caution than any other taught in this ancient school."

Alecto's smile froze, both she and her brother looking at the back of Severus' head with a similar frown. He allowed all a little pause for thinking. Some of the older students explained to the first-years.

"Now then. As in each school year, there are strict rules to be followed. Breaking them will result in points being taken from your House, special achievements will gain you points. At the end of the year, they will be counted and the House with the highest number of points will win the traditional House Cup. The points can be seen in the glasses at the wall outside in the Entrance Hall, each glass showing the respective colour of your House. Mind, that these glasses are protected by powerful magic and trying to manipulate them, will give you an experience you do not wish to obtain. Furthermore, it might have come to your attention; if you haven't already been freezing due to your lack of ability to care for something as simple as a weather forecast; that some of Azkaban's Dementors have been placed around the school grounds for security reasons."

"Sure.", Seamus chuckled again.

"A fair warning to all of you: they do not differ anyone and approaching them will only cause something far worse happening to you than the result of an attempt to break the glasses I mentioned. Dementors are not to mess with, but if any of you believe to be capable enough to conjure a full corporeal Patronus that can fight off a dozen of them, _just you try_. I must point out that no staff member is responsible for your idiocy."

"They do though rub our noses in it,", Euan whispered to a second-year, who nodded approvingly with a grin.

"Though I am certain, it will not come down to such an encounter. For the sake of your safety, the school grounds are forbidden to enter in a ratio of six feet around the walls or arches of the yards; every walk further away will ask for the company of a teacher or other staff member."

"He's imprisoning us!", a Hufflepuff girl hissed under her breath.

"An exception is the daily walk after lunch. Students are to gather in rows according to their Houses in the Entrance Hall exactly after lunchtime has ended. Do step out of line and there will be no guarantee that you won't be attacked by a Dementor. Miss the walk without a good reason and you will be punished. This is a school and laziness is not tolerated."

"He can't be serious, can he?", Parvati shook her head.

"Everyone is to wear their school uniform _properly_ whenever being outside their own House. No student is allowed out of their common rooms and dormitories without special permission after the time of eight o'clock in the afternoon and before seven in the morning. Performing magic is limited to the classrooms during lessons and – "

Slowly everyone noticed the seam of his long black cloak hopping like being pulled up with a string again and again. He though remained calm.

"The training halls. Using your wand with the intention to do magic is forbidden anywhere but named places. The restriction also includes the Great Hall, Mr Finnigan.", several students started to laugh.

"Great one.", Nigel whispered to Seamus.

"That's not funny, guys.", Ginny hissed.

"Silence.", everybody went still immediately. "Unless you wish your House to lose points before it has gained any, put away your wand and grow up.", he snorted, but was staid again right after. "And to note, the restriction to the use of magic does not give any of you the right to _stab or hit_ each other with your wands. So, as I said, any breaking of school rules will result in points being taken from your House and, in sight of the severity of your violation, you will receive detention. A list of rules and forbidden objects may be requested from your Heads of House, our caretaker Mr Filch or myself at any time considered moral and not breaking a single rule I just mentioned, as well as those on said list, may you have obtained it _or not_."

In another short pause for making the information sink in, his dark eyes glided thoroughly over the heads, frantically trying not to focus on a specific person to his rightmost.

"You should also know, that a slightly altered version of the Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four has been reinstalled. If you allow me the time to quote it, _`All Student Organisations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are disbanded. An Organisation, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to re-form may be sought from the Headmaster´,_ which would be me, in case you didn't catch that _. `No Student Organisation, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the Headmaster. Any student found to have formed, or to belong to an Organisation, Society, Team, Group or Club that has not been approved by the Headmaster will be expelled. Idem conditions equally apply on any member of staff and opposition will cause being set on probation. Repeated offence leads to suspension; the matter is to be judged according to its precise and specific details by the Headmaster.´_ "

Again he let everyone think. Some were already quietly discussing certain fears.

"Should you see yourself incapable of understanding this, the decree can be found on the noticeboards in each of your Houses. I may now point out that there are three exceptions I permit as a mean of education. First, the scholastic Quidditch tournament, as a cultural matter that has moulded the wizarding society over centuries.", along many, Ginny sighed with relief. "Elections for the Quidditch House Teams, will take place during the first two weeks of term. Anyone interested, shall contact their House's Quidditch Captain for further instructions, or otherwise, their Head of House. Second and third, the Gobstone and Chess Clubs,"

"Who the hell needs – ", grunted Romilda, but was shushed with a cat-like hiss by Fay.

"As both games require concentration and logical thinking, which marks the qualities of a good student. To think logical is necessary in several taught subjects and an additional training to that is no distraction in my opinion. To apply for membership, you may refer to Miss Bavenworth from Slytherin House for the Gobstone Club and Mr Jonas from Ravenclaw for the Chess Club. That shall be all for now. Enjoy your meal."

Cold to the depth, his eyes rushed quickly over the majority of the students. Then he turned, waved the Carrow twins in and followed them, taking his seat. The tabletop fell shut as soon as he sat and his place setting slid back to where it belonged. Then the tables were filled magically by the Houseelves in the kitchen below. Surprised, the older students had to notice that there wasn't a change in the meal. They had expected to go hungry, but everything came as usual. Only that the general mood in the hall resembled the joy at a funeral.

"Wha's he playin', ya think?", Seamus mumbled to Neville.

"Let me see – Quidditch, Gobstones and Chess.", snickered Neville; most around him joined in.

"As much a dangerous game as you do.", Ginny snorted over their chuckles. "Just that he knows his borders. You could have gotten yourself in serious trouble, Seamus, you know,"

"And if – I rather die than doin' what he says."

"You did what he said when he was only a teacher. Now he's Headmaster. That's nothing to go easy with."

"Are you afraid of him?", Neville chuckled once more.

"Shut up, you moron.", she hissed.

"Whow!"

"I am just warning you. _Each_ of you. This is not about points anymore, even though he keeps up that system – and those games as well. Believe me, I wonder too. So, Snape might not hurt us physically, but those Carrows are Death Eaters."

" _Too_. And he's been slappin' us with books, remember?", Seamus noted but she ignored him.

"Hell only knows what they will do if we don't obey their rules. But I've got the feeling that we'd want Umbridge back when they're done with us."

"Snape might not hurt us.", Lavender quoted her. "Tz. What makes you think he won't now?"

"I just know."

"You just – "

"Well, he won't be around us that often anymore.", that didn't really convince her friends. "Look – if this place now is to bind the students, it wouldn't be useful for him if parents started swarming it and taking their children away. So I suppose, _that's_ why he at least gives us _some_ freedom."

"Yeah. But he doesn't let us go anywhere else, forgot?"

"But students will start to write letters – ", Parvati considered.

"They won't reach anyone.", Ginny shook her head, digging into her mashed potatoes. "The owl traffic was controlled before, you know that."

"Well, at least he still allows us to speak _now_.", Lavender pouted, her eyes on the staff table, observing every of the moves he made while eating. "How can he sit on that chair, eating roasted mushrooms with such delight?", if she had looked closer though, she would have seen that there was not even a faint hint of pleasure to his face or movement.

"You are talking about the new Headmaster as if he was really cruel.", a first-year in the near joined in their conversation. "But I don't think the Ministry would have announced him if he was."

"What's your name again?", Neville asked.

"Emily."

"Well, Emily, the Ministry's down. Fallen into the hands of the Death Eaters a month ago.", the girl's eyes gaped with shock.

"This can't be. There was nothing in the _Pro_ -"

"Course there isn' a thing in tha _Prophet_. Tha _Prophet_ 's down as well.", Seamus explained.

"But Scrimgeour – "

"Dead."

"No.", the girl moaned at him.

"He's right.", Ginny said calm. "They killed him."

"No.", Emily shook her head heavily. "Mum and Dad are working at the Ministry. They – "

"Are obviously badly informed or want to protect you.", Parvati interrupted her.

"How did you two manage to come back anyway?", Ginny frowned at her.

"Padma threatened our parents that if they don't let us go back, we'd run away with everyone else in the DA.", Parvati curled her lips. "Well, she didn't mention the DA, ever; but she's gotten quite consequent on sticking to what she says, recently."

"Welcome to – _the club_ , then.", smirked Ginny.

"Apropos club – ", Cormac threw in, clearly only having heard Ginny's last words due to having had a nondescript conversation with a classmate to his right, "If Snape really bans all clubs – hasn't he said it goes for teachers as well? What d'you think, Slughorn – "

"No chance.", Ginny said, distinctively unimpressed, doing her best to make her face show it. "Snape hated that club ever since he'd gotten to know about it. Rather he'd hire a contract killer to get Slughorn out of the way. He won't make his fingers _that_ dirty. He's too disgusted by him and his club to do it personally."

"How the heck would you know?", asked Neville.

"First,", she kept her expression, "I have properly working eyes and possess logic without having to play Gobstones or kick my brothers' arses in Wizard Chess, and second, even if I hadn't noticed it long before that, Harry's mentioned it somewhen."

Meanwhile at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was one of the people in the hall who had a hard time trying to eat something. Gazing onto his plate, he more messed around with his food unconsciously than bringing any of it to his mouth. Being back, he wasn't that sure anymore that he wanted to continue his education. Curled up in the world of his thoughts, he stirred noodles until they disappeared. Only that would make him wake from his sad daydream. Pudding had taken in the place of the main course. With a sigh, he only reached for a green apple and stared at it for a long while. Finally, he took a fainthearted bite.

The conversations around him seemed like miles away. He knew what his housemates were talking about, but he didn't bother. After another bite, he examined the marks on the fruit. Clear and shiny, the apple – bled. He narrowed his eyes at the red stain and wiped two fingers over his upper incisors that now started to hurt him a bit. His gum was bleeding a little. Angry, he took a third bite. He had to eat more, he thought. It couldn't be that his body had gotten that weak already. Before he could dig his teeth into the apple once more however, the tables cleared. His head rushed up to the staff table, where Severus had walked onto the podium again, this time without the Carrows. The hall fell silent like before.

"There are only a few more words I would like to say to you.", he spoke calmly. "Surely, each of the first-years has found out the regular meal times by now; if not, I shall however not waste my time with talking about minor matters. None of the first-years is allowed a broom, no matter what your families tried to make you believe. Your possessions have been searched for such as well as forbidden objects. If any of you find something missing of which they are not fully sure why it is gone, you may consult our caretaker on the matter – and better accept his decisions."

A grin of teeth in an equally horrible state as Bellatrix Lestrange's forced itself into the atmosphere. The only one not uncomfortable with it, seemed to be his scrawny cat on his arms.

"Mind that all ways of communication out of and into the school grounds are being watched in addition.", Ginny gave Parvati an affirmative glance. "Prefects of the fifth year will be elected in the upcoming week, as usual. Of each House, one of the current Prefects may ask their Head of House for the password _now_. If there are no more questions, the Prefects will lead the first-years to their Houses then.", Ginny clearly visible raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Weasley?", he murmured, sounding like he had never been more annoyed.

"Gryffindor hasn't any Prefects left, Sir."

"Oh my goodness – ", McGonagall aspirated, her hand on her chest, when the whole Slytherin table burst into laughter again.

"Silence! I expected Slytherin House to be a little more mature than Mr Finnigan.", McGonagall's eyes wandered over the Gryffindor table while he told the others off and Euan exchanged a knowing look with his neighbour.

"Miss Weasley, would you like to be one, then?", Ginny looked around as well.

"Alright, Professor."

"And Mr Creevey – the older, I mean – you surely don't mind assisting her?", Ginny contorted her face a little, apparently displeased.

"No, Ma'am. I'd love to."

"Very well. Mr Longbottom, Miss Dunbar, can you take in the places of Mr Weasley and Miss Granger?", they nodded; Ginny noticed Severus sighing a little at the sound of Hermione's surname. "Fine. You will get your badges tomorrow."

"Anyone else wishing to say something?", he said grim. "No? Then off to your Houses, _good night_."

His eyes on the main door, he quickly paced straight towards it, his hair and cloak bulging as usual. Everyone watched him leave, the wings of the door swinging open when he approached them, accompanied by a lightning bolt rushing across the ceiling. Only after he couldn't be seen anymore, the students and teachers rose, filling the hall with whispers once again.

"That were interesting speeches.", Luna had reached Ginny.

"Yes. Even a bit like Dumbledore would have spoken, in times of peace."

"Only that it's war and Dumbledore's way of speaking wouldn't have scared the first-years.", Neville grunted angrily.

"But he isn't here anymore.", Ginny noted.

"Yeah. Because Snape _killed_ him. Recall that?", Neville hissed.

"Gryffindor first-years! Come here, please!", she called as though she hadn't heard him. "You'd better get the password, Neville."

"Hey.", Hannah had caught up with them.

"Hey.", replied Neville, only. "You're back?"

"I have to, haven't I?", she smirked. "Got to finish stuff and it's odd to sit at home all the time."

"Yeah.", though she chuckled a little, the words couldn't bring an honest smile on his face either.

"See you all tomorrow.", Luna however smiled, unusually tired.

"Yeah. See ya.", Neville murmured, accompanied by good-night-wishes from the others but didn't go for McGonagall who was already shoving her way through the mass of students blocking the middle corridor. "So – um – Prefect, eh? Never thought I'd be."

"Guess so.", Hannah sighed. "I wonder if I still have to do it. Left it on Ernie to lead the youngsters.", such now gathered around the two.

"Neville,", Ginny warned.

"Huh?", she nodded over to McGonagall who had almost reached them. "Oh. Yeah. Um – 'night, Hannah."

"Good night.", this time her smile was real, when she went off and threw a look back over her shoulder, Neville doing the same.

"Neville!", Ginny puffed.

"Alright!", he snarled.

"Gryffindor first-years? Are all of you here? Anyone known missing? No? Good. If you'd follow me please,"

At a wall-side table, an apple was carelessly dropped on the tabletop and the one who had held it, marched past his housemates out of the hall, alone.

~~#~~

"No, no, no.", the Fat Lady sang; dumbfounded, Neville slouched his shoulders, all Gryffindors jamming behind him.

"But – she said it was _Gillyweed_. She clearly said.", he murmured.

"What's it, Neville?", Ginny tried to get through.

"That old hag won't let me pass!"

"Are you sure you got the password right?"

"I'm not stupid!", Neville moaned. "McGonagall said it's _Gillyweed_."

"Gillyweed.", Ginny snorted at the portrait.

"No, girl, as I said to him, that is not the password. Not anymore."

" _Not anymore?_ ", Ginny hissed. "What d'you mean by ` _not anymore_ ´?"

"Well, it changed."

"A password can't change on the first evening, right after it was announced."

"But it has."

"Incredible.", she mumbled. "So what's it now?"

"No, no. I can't tell you."

"I'm a Prefect now!", Ginny murmured. "So's Neville! You _know_ us! Let us in and I can ask for it tomorrow."

"No, I can't. Security matters."

"Surely we're more safe out here on the stairs,"

"Oh man – tha' sucks, ya know?", Seamus snarled. "'T's not funny. When did tha' ruddy passwor' change an' who did it anyway?"

"It changed many minutes ago already."

"And who changed it?", Ginny repeated pleadingly.

"He said, it wouldn't be safe."

" _Not safe?_ ", the girl raged. "Who!"

"There is no need to shout at me. And it was the Headmaster himself. He came up to me and told me the new password."

"Tha' bloody t-"

"Shut it, Seamus.", Ginny huffed. "There are first-years here."

"I don' give a damn t– "

"Shut up!", the words echoed in the tower and portraits turned their heads towards her. "And let me think. Is it something edible?"

"I am not to give hints, girl.", the Fat Lady replied in her hollow song-like tone.

"Green or brown?"

"I said – "

"Chocolate cream?"

"This is not a guessing game!"

"Spearmint?"

"I – what?"

" _Spearmint_."

"Alright, alright, girl. You won. I don't know how you figured that one out, but yes. It is correct.", the woman snorted and her canvas swung open.

"Spearmint?", Parvati hissed.

"Just a guess.", Ginny sighed. "I need to go find McGonagall. Get in, everyone. Goodnight.", she turned to go, but Neville stopped her.

"What if he changes it again?"

"Then I'll chop his head off with one of the portraits here.", she snarled.

"I would like to volunteer, Miss!", said an elderly man with a ruff.

"You're too heavy.", Ginny huffed and stormed off.

"Oh no, I am – "

"Fat.", said Neville.

"Do you mind? I am muscular!"

"Fat."

"Merely well-fed and – ", Neville climbed through the hole into the common room. "Really!"

~~#~~

Hasty footsteps echoed through the empty and dark corridors. None of the torches lit as he passed by, hurrying after the sound of someone else walking. His uniform cloak waved widely behind and billowed a little more, every time he rushed around a corner. The heavy rain was still half flooding the exterior, windowless arched corridor he walked through and clashed against the windows of the fourth-next. There he found that the other man had stopped at a window, leant on the sill and stared out into the dark. A lightning bolt flashed the gloomy figure.

Slowing down a bit, he approached the man who took something from a pocket of his robe. Stopping at his left, he eyed the package that was handed to him, wordless. It was something wrapped in a napkin. Carefully, he unpacked it and let out a sigh at the sight. It was a barbecued thin steak and two lettuce leaves pressed between two slices of bread.

"I'm not hungry.", the bored look facing him said it all. "Damn. I can't fool you, can I?", he ranted and bit off. "Thanksh.", he added munching and both watched the rain running down the glass.

"Doubting your decisions?", Severus said softly.

"Dunno."

"I won't force you to stay here. The Dementors aren't as pleasant anymore as they used to be. They are as hungry as you are."

"Dementors. Pleashant.", Draco chuckled and Severus lowered his head with a weary smile. "Housh Cup? Honeshly?"

"It's a tradition.", was the empty answer.

"I can undershdand shat – you keep up Quidditch. But that? Don't you think, it's a little suspicious?"

"It is an experiment. I want to see who gives sympathy points and who loves to take them off."

"Let me see – first, everyone but the Carrows, second, nobody but the Carrows – and the Slytherin Prefects. Research study finished."

"Will you take off points for no good reason?"

"I don't want to be a Prefect anymore."

"But I want you to."

"Why."

"Because that is your only way to survive this year. Everyone who has knowledge of what happened on the Astronomy Tower, also knows what you had been about to do and not all of them will understand that you only feared for your parents' and your own life. Threatening them with punishment, will keep them at bay. At least for some time."

"But what if I don't want to threaten them?"

"And you wonder why I don't eliminate the House Cup.", Severus curled his lips. "Why are you here, Draco."

"Because I want to help you."

"Exactly. Then do as I say."

~~#~~

"He did _what_?"

Ginny had never seen such a face on her. It hadn't been easy to enter her bedroom and the fury she had met with hadn't been amusing either, but she had managed to bring McGonagall to her senses by yelling the sentence equally loud at her. Now the chandelier-lit room was silent. Stripped down to her underwear, her hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, McGonagall gave up any attempt to hide her body with cushions. Her arms falling slackly, the cushions slipped to the stone floor.

"Changed the password to the Gryffindor tower right after he left the hall.", Ginny calmed down.

"And the students? They aren't – standing – "

"No. They're all in. I found out the new password."

"How?"

"Well, even though the Fat Lady said he changed it because he thought it wasn't safe enough, the new password wasn't difficult to discover for someone with some insider knowledge."

"Insider knowledge, Miss Weasley?", her big green eyes widened even more, but Ginny just smirked languidly. "Very well, Miss Weasley.", the teacher went for a dressing gown and slippers and put them on, then picked up her cloak she had thrown into a corner; obviously in some moment of whatever she had done before Ginny had entered; swung it over her shoulders and got her wand. "I cannot let you wander around alone. You will come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"He will regret that skite.", she murmured thin-lipped and waved her wand. "Severus Snape.", the teacher clearly said to the light.

Fascinated, Ginny stared after the bluish light bulb that zoomed out of the room, McGonagall hurrying after it. Paralysed for a moment, she though went after her Head of House then.

"What is that?", she asked, catching up, surprised about how fast the elderly woman could run upstairs.

"A tracking spell."

"You mean, Professor – "

"Exactly, Miss Weasley. That light will lead me directly to him. It only works if he doesn't bother being found though. Let us see, if it gets us into a cesspool or worse."

~~#~~


	46. Chapter 45 - Happy New Year

– Chapter 45 –

 **Happy New Year**

Four eyes watched a light bulb zooming at them when angry slapping feet came around the corner, accompanied by the clacking of shoes. The light stopped right in front of his face and became red, flashing very fast.

"You!", with the shout, the ball vanished and left the corridor cast in darkness, until a light flared up at the tip of her wand. "Explain yourself!"

"Draco, please go. This might not end beautiful.", Severus said quietly to him.

"What did you do?"

"Why did you change the password to the Gryffindor tower?", she bellowed.

"You did _what_?", Draco chuckled.

"Just go."

"No."

"Pardon?"

"I said, no."

"Draco – "

"What is the point in this?", she stomped to halt in front of him, who had placed himself between them, his fists to his sides, crumpling the napkin in one.

"Sorry.", Ginny stopped at her right, mumbling. "I had to tell her. Didn't expect her to – "

"Get out of my way, Mr Malfoy. You have no idea, what you are defending there."

"Oh, I do!", Draco snapped, making her blink; nevertheless she composed herself.

"Take Miss Weasley here and bring her to the main staircase. You will wait there for me.", she said, thin-lipped again.

"If you have to say something to him, Professor, you can say it to me as well."

"Don't be silly, Mr Malfoy. This here is none of your business."

"It is, Ma'am."

"Draco,", Severus said softly, "Do as she says."

"But – ", he turned in protest.

"Save your courage for more dramatic situations, if you please.", he shortly nodded to the side, making it clear to him that he wouldn't stand a chance against the bidding of two authorities.

"Good luck, Sir.", Ginny again mumbled to the Headmaster and grabbed a surprised Draco's arm, pulling him away into the darkness.

The lightning storm outside allowed them occasional short glimpses on their surrounding, though made the corridors a little more dark after. Halfway in the next corridor, Draco managed to free himself from her grip. In silence, they rushed through the ground floor and finally reached the marble staircase, minutes later, but not alone. Quick as she was, Ginny stretched out her arm to keep Draco behind the corner.

In the shine from the empty Great Hall, two men had a conversation. One very round, the other very small.

"He's been pushing many things over the limits, but this is going beyond my wits.", the small man grunted.

"Yes, yes. The poor boy's fallen deep. He used to be so great – so very much like his mother – and then he made so many wrong choices. So terribly wrong. Just like his dear friend Lucius.", the round moaned.

"You tell me, Horace."

" _Horse_ – ", Draco aspirated, peeking around the corner over Ginny's head. "Dad! You – "

"What?", she hissed quiet.

"Forget it.", he shushed her.

"We _both_ have seen them grow up and you can't deny, Malfoy's always been a little twisted. But I thought, with Lily at his side, Severus would have found the way to the light. But no, now we have it. Rotten. All rotten."

"Yes. I keep asking myself, if she hadn't married – "

"Good evening, Professors.", Draco said aloud, making them jump.

"Draco!", Ginny spat. "Are you bonkers?"

"It might interest you that your conversation is no longer private.", he stepped around Ginny and further into the light.

"Draco m'boy!", Slughorn's awkward, panicking smile greeted him. "What're you doing here? You should be – "

"Right here, Sir. I'm still a Prefect, if you remember, and I felt the need to give a new one some advice."

"Miss Weasley?", he squinted at the corner. "But now, you two should really go to your Houses. C'mon, Draco, I'll bring you down. Filius, please bring – "

"No, thank you, Sir. I am to wait here for Professor McGonagall."

"Is that so, dear?", Slughorn chuckled.

"Yes.", she confirmed stiffly.

"Well, then Filius, please wait here with her so I can escort young Mr Malfoy."

"I know the way to the Dungeons, Professor.", Draco grunted.

"But you also heard our new Headmaster – "

"Who will take care of the matter himself.", both Ginny and Draco rushed around to the black figure that had approached them noiselessly from behind; Slughorn blinked at the pale face, being the only part of him clearly visible in the dim light. "Draco, follow me."

"I don't know what she said to you, but _we_ are not done yet.", Ginny hissed so quietly through her teeth that only the one it was meant for, heard it. "You hear me?", he just blew a snort through his nostrils when walking past her and laid his hand on Draco's back then, pushing him all the way to the underground spiral staircase, out of sight.

"As lost as his father.", Slughorn sighed flabbily. "All the time we spent on 'em, in vain."

"What did he want from you, Miss Weasley?", Flitwick asked, slightly concerned.

"Just talk.", she said shortly. "After all, we are still allowed to, aren't we?"

"That is right. So right. I too wish to know what's going on in his brain."

"A lot more than you might think, Sir.", that made the two Professors a little curious. "I mean, he's not stupid, that much is clear."

There was the shuffling sound of slippers on stone floor. A tiny blue shine came around a corner in the corridor Ginny still stood in. The wand hand dangled lifelessly at her side. More and more stepping into the light from the Great Hall, it became obvious that she had cried. Her mouth stood slightly open when she looked around to see who was there. Her big green eyes bore nothing short of blank emptiness.

"Where is – ?", she whispered hollow, her lips barely moving.

"He brought him to the Dungeons.", Ginny moaned.

"He? He came along?"

"Yes, Madam. What happened?"

"Nothing.", the way her gaze drifted around, Ginny couldn't help but feeling hurt. "He just – said – ` _If you failed to open your eyes, I cannot help you anymore_ ´ and walked away – ", Ginny bit her lips.

"Professor – shall I bring you back to your bedroom?"

"No, no, Miss Weasley – I said I will – "

"No, really, Professor, _you_ don't look like you should wander the castle alone.", she carefully reached under the teacher's left arm and supported her upstairs, Slughorn following after having waved Flitwick goodnight.

~~#~~

Earlier than the others, Draco raised from his seat near the podium and walked along it, towards the middle corridor. Padma Patil did the same, mirroring him. Deeply in thoughts and his face to the floor, he didn't see her coming towards him from the entrance, three more girls getting up and joining her. Just when he nearly walked into the wall in mid-hall, he startled, halted and looked at the four who blocked the corridor with crossed arms. Both Ginny and Luna were alarmed. Everyone else watched as well as he stared from one girl to the other.

"Well, look who we have here.", Padma sneered. "If that isn't the coward himself. How come, you curse Katie and poison Ron but can't pluck up enough courage to actually kill Dumbledore?"

"Get out of my way.", Draco mumbled.

"What else does he have to do for you?", Hannah continued. "Bind your shoelaces?", she pointed down and Draco noticed with a grunt that one of them was actually loose.

"There are rumours.", Susan continued when Draco ignored the lace with a murderous look at the girls. "They say there's been a breakout from Azkaban. Now, is your Daddy out, is he? How's Mummy now? Not too fine, I hear?"

Ginny, a shining Prefect's badge on her tie, was on her feet, her wand at him as he raised his straight at Susan's chest. Panic in her eyes, Susan didn't even notice Ginny.

"Put your wand down, Draco.", Ginny hissed. "You're a Prefect."

"So are you.", he countered; each of them ignored the woman who walked into their direction.

"And so are Padma and Hannah. Don't do anything you'll regret."

"Well, he's already done something he should regret.", Parvati murmured.

"Is there a problem?", Alecto Carrow had reached them and drawn her wand as well, balancing it lustily between two fingers with the broad grin she had already demonstrated on the previous evening; Draco spun around, still holding out his own wand. "Now don't be a stupid boy, Draco. Put down your wand.", pouting, he did as ordered. "You as well, girl.", Ginny however, refused. "Are you deaf?"

"There is not a problem, Professor, that could be of your interest. We only have a private little chat here. You do well to walk on. It would be a shame if you came late for your first lesson."

"Cheeky, aren't we? Well, still you might have heard the Headmaster. Hasn't he clearly said yesterday, that wands aren't allowed outside class?"

"He has named some exceptions. I am a Prefect, if you should have missed that little detail. We are allowed to command students, whatever it may take to do so."

"Well, well, well. Maybe you should come with me, Missy. Right on top of my timetable today, are the sixth-years. I believe, that's your class, isn't it?"

"I don't have to put up with something so low as to study Muggles. There is nothing there which would be worth studying.", she finally lowered her wand.

"Nevertheless, you are well advised to – "

"Maybe you remember her words, Professor.", Luna arrived at the row of girls from behind, making them all turn in shock and the wall divide in the middle. "The Headmaster might really not be pleased, if you miss your first class. I can show you the way, if you should have difficulties to find it, Madam."

"No, thank you.", Alecto snapped and stormed past them all.

"Luna – that was – ", Padma aspirated.

"Oh well, it's got some advantages if everyone thinks you're loopy. They fear I might gravely hex them if they don't avoid me.", she smiled. "And anyway, that's for you.", she gave Hannah one of the two letters she held in hands, as well as a little very colourful box and walked other over to Draco with the other letter.

"What's that?", he frowned at it.

"They are a little late than normally, but the decisions have been made yesterday. So, it seems, I'm your owl, _tu-whit tu-whoo_! You two should try to become something like friends, you see?", she winked. "And Happy Birthday, Hannah."

"What – ", said could only stare at her and the pentagonal parcel in turns.

"If you need anything, Ginny, I'll be feeding crows."

"You're not willing to take Muggle Studies either?"

"Oh no, I think I know enough about them to refuse."

Luna smiled and left the hall, hopping like usual. In that moment, Ginny noticed something entirely black gliding through between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff table. Before he could place another foot on the stone floor, she hurried after Luna. At a fast pace she overtook him, not looking at him until she was in the doorway where she turned, dropped her bag to her right and stood as still as a stone statue, her arms by her sides and her eyes; not far from fury; piercing into his as he approached her.

"What is this supposed to be when you are done with it?", he stopped less than a yard away, looking down on her, his expression blank.

"The students want answers, Sir.", she spoke, not loud though, so not too many people would hear her, although those in vicinity tried hard to listen.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They keep wondering why you held the sorting like usual."

"Should I not have?"

"I don't know – some think, you exaggerated a bit. Letting Professor McGonagall light the fires without torturing her – a bit off the mood, isn't it, Sir?"

"I have no idea what you are trying to play at."

"Oh well, but she's been crying, if that rings a bell.", no reply. "What's it like? To sit in that chair?"

"Not as comfortable as you might think."

"That pleases me to hear.", she murmured arrogant.

"The cushion is worn off."

"The – ", her eyes narrowed and her mouth gaped.

"As noble as your intentions as well may be, Miss Weasley, there are some things that are better accepted the way they are. Surely _one of your friends_ has told you."

"Yeah.", she lowered her voice so much that really nobody but him could hear her, her lips barely moving. "Like that it doesn't matter how often and to what you will change the password, she won't return to say it."

"That does not matter to me.", he whispered too.

"I see – when have you stopped loving her?"

"Do not speak about things you don't understand."

"I might not. But it's incredible how far she got me to accept things, if we already talk about that. Even _murder_.", Ginny hissed. "Though _you_ should begin to accept that she might not come back to ride away your sorrows."

The following moment sought the breath out of everyone's lungs in the hall. Students and teachers gasped alike. There was a clattering sound when her wand slid from her grip and people were rising to confirm whether it had actually happened. Ginny leant against the huge doorframe she had toppled over to, panting heavily and holding her left cheek.

That plan had backfired, literally. His hand was still up when her staring eyes could somewhat focus him again. He slightly contorted his fingers to a half fist, dropped it slackly. Her momentarily blurred view made it impossible for her to perceive his expression though. McGonagall was on her feet, hurrying towards them, her wand in hand. She already rushed past the perplexed students in the middle of the hall when he took a deep breath and hurried to the marble stairs and upward.

"No!", Ginny aspirated, reaching out to stop her Head of House. "No!", she repeated, a little louder. "No, Professor."

"Miss Weasley!", she had grabbed the teacher's wrist.

"It was my fault, Madam."

"Pardon?", Ginny nodded slackly to emphasise it.

"I said something I shouldn't have. I deserve every bit of pain."

"Do you, by any means, hear how silly that sounds?"

"Not at all."

"And what the hell _did_ you say?", Draco had reached them.

"That's none of your business.", Ginny huffed, straightened, picked up her wand and bag and, too, marched towards the main staircase.

"Where are you going, Miss Weasley?", McGonagall peeked after her.

"Feeding crows!", she grumbled without looking back and sprinted upstairs.

"Incredible.", McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Mr Malfoy? I take it, your are done with your breakfast and have all things you need with you?", she nodded at the bag.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then you might already come with me to class. I'm afraid, I am done with breakfast as well."

"Er – sorry, Professor."

"Excuse me?"

"Exactly. I can't take your class today. Or at least not all of it. I need to have a word with the Headmaster."

"Oh I am sure, you are not the right person in this case, as wondrously caring you seem to have become about Miss Weasley."

"You don't understand, Professor. This is personal."

"Perhaps, whatever. But – "

" _You don't understand_. This is about _me_.", he shook the torn open letter in front of her, a little careful though, so that the little object in it wouldn't jump out.

"What is this, Mr Malfoy?"

"As I say, Ma'am, it's personal. If you excuse me,", at a smart pace, he left the hall for the stairs as well, Hannah; who had opened her letter likewise; stomped after him.

~~#~~

"What did she say?", Draco urged at his back, the door behind himself, still open.

"That is between me and her."

"We're friends!"

"I said, it is private."

"You know, you can tell me everything."

"No."

"You can!"

"No."

"Goddamned, look at me, when I talk to you!"

"Why. I know what you look like, when you are upset. There is no need for me to – "

" _Look at me!_ "

"A bit louder, if you may,", he murmured when Hannah stomped in, not closing the door either, but jumping as it shut on its own. "Not everyone has heard it yet."

"And honestly? Head Boy? What's this rubbish?"

"I only took your request into account.", above him, behind the desk, a painted Albus Dumbledore leaned lazily against his own hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair and gazed into space, utmost bored.

"My _request_?"

"You said, you don't want to be a Prefect anymore."

" _What?_ ", Draco hissed. "Don't – _don't you dare to laugh, now!_ ", he had heard the huffing smirk that had escaped him.

"I don't laugh.", it was gone, back to sadness.

"Then look at me and show it!", the boy raged, his envelope with the notice crushed in his fist.

"Remarkable.", the portrait of Dumbledore sang, his eyes still not on the scene below. "How very different human beings can develop, and yet, bring out characteristics alike. Or is it the position? This office, perhaps? The age? Be prepared to find yourself in a brash, Severus."

"What the heck's _he_ talking about?"

"Rather like him, I did apologise."

"Very late, but yes. And I may repeat myself, restoring the office was the least effort. Both times."

"WHAT?", Draco barked again. "You look at me _right now_ and tell me what this crap's about!"

"I am not your father."

" _WHAT?_ "

"I said, I am not your father. There is no need to yell at me."

"How very much alike indeed, I see. And it surprises me that I hadn't seen it earlier. That I needed you to tell me – to make me even consider the possibility – to notice the facts that had laid so openly in front of my eyes.", he paused, "It is only strange, that he has become a bit like him as well. What is it, I wonder again? Is it the care of – a father? Methods so different, and nevertheless resulting in the same?"

"Drop it.", Severus grumbled and half turned, his left hand on the desktop – he rather preferred to face the students than the remains of his mentor now.

"Oh finally! I have no idea what he's babbling about and I actually don't care – "

"Suddenly?"

"Shut it, yeah? And you know that this isn't mandatory!", he shook the envelope. "I can still refuse! I don't have to accept your decision!"

"I am Headmaster now, Draco. Some things have changed."

"You don't really believe what you say, do you?", Draco murmured.

"And what is it that _you_ have to complain about?", he boredly raised his left eyebrow and directed his look on Hannah in mid-sentence.

"Well, Sir, practically I'm still in my sixth year. I can't be Head Girl."

"Have you taken a look at your timetable this morning? No? Because if you had, you would have noticed that all of your teachers agreed that your results in the O.W.L.s; even though you had seemed to be far from succeeding in first place; were sufficient to skip and graduate this year already. If you though believe, that you cannot pass your N.E.W.T.s _and_ be Head Girl at the same time after a year of absence, you may of course continue your sixth year and therefore act as an exception. You see, neither of you will get around accepting my word."

"Why me? There are enough girls in the seventh year left."

"Only half of them merely possess your enthusiasm."

"So that's it, Sir? Well, the Patil twins are very enthusiastic as well."

"No, that's not it. And yes, they are, but their many qualities are not those I seek for."

"I don't have any qualities at all, Sir."

"I ever admired how humble you are. You have indeed many qualities, Hannah.", she frowned at the unexpected address. "And if it takes you another year to find out that you simply need to believe in yourself.", now her brows narrowed and she blinked twice. "You will be a far better Head Girl than any of the others in your year. With this, I mean the seventh. Because, if you decided to do the sixth year, I could put any other sixth-year girl in this position as well, opening the way for two very able persons."

"And what if I don't want to do it? What if I don't want to work together with someone like him?", she pointed ferociously at Draco. "Or if I don't want to follow orders of someone like _you_? I know exactly what you are!", her voice became louder and more hysterical with every word." _It's all there! All the proof! You don't even need to bare your arm! I know you belong to THEM! I refuse to take orders from you!_ ", she cried. " _People like you have murdered my mother!_ _You –_ "

"And Aurors have raped my father!", Draco cut off her next sentence.

Silence. Finally, Dumbledore turned his head to him – and saw what only Severus had seen until then. The door had been pushed open and a ginger stood in the frame, as perplexed as the other portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. Her left cheek was bright red and swollen.

"Leave us alone.", hollow words, his face straight at Ginny. "All of you. Yes, you as well Albus. This is a little bit too private. Even for you.", sighing, he joined his protesting predecessors that were muttering out to different canvases of the castle, pushing Phineas; who wanted some last glimpses; out of his frame into _nowhere_ before he left the office like the others.

"What?", Ginny moaned faintly and her colleagues rushed around, both mirroring sheer horror. "Is that – is that true?", she stepped inside and closed the door. "Draco – I – ", but he only lowered his head, squinting and pressing his lips shut.

Toddling a little, Severus let go of the desk and slowly walked down to him. Two gentle arms were wrapped around the quiet weeping young man; hands stroking him. Even Hannah's fury was gone at the sight. Severus leaned his head against Draco's and pulled him closer, the growing sadness on his face resembled the looks of the two girls, only deeper and more desperate.

"Hannah, my decision is final. I count on you. I – believe in you. Ginevra – ", the way he pronounced her name made her falter for some seconds.

"I – I'm sorry – "

"No. I am."

"I shouldn't have – "

"Nor should I. We both made mistakes. We're square. Listen, I want you to rebuild the Army. Minerva's on your side. She will help. Stay underground. Stand together, ready any time. But be inconspicuous. Go to your lessons, all of you. Stick to the rules. School rules, as well as – "

" _The_ rule.", she nodded.

"You may let Hannah into the plan, but hold on to the principles. That is essential."

"Yes, Professor."

"In times, you will take some from the Army, preferable some easy believing victims, and Luna. You will attempt to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor; which Harry, Ron and Hermione need; and try to give it to the barman of the Hog's Head, just in case he might find out where they are."

"Er – "

"The sword is in here.", he pointed on a glass case Ginny could only see after she took a few steps forward. "But of course I will know and I won't let you get away with it. You might get harmed, but not considerably. Take whoever you wish as source of the information, just not me, please."

"Oookay?", Ginny frowned even more. "Will you enlighten me, Sir?"

"No."

"Great.", she sighed. "Rebuild the Army with Professor McGonagall, then fail to steal the sword.", she recited it. "Anything else?", there was a short pause.

"No. For the moment."

"Fine."

"Now Draco, Hannah,", he slightly pushed him off and wiped his tears away, "I remember, you have a Transfiguration lesson running at the moment. I ask you to join your classmates, when you consider yourselves ready."

~~#~~

Closed wooden doors. Keeping the devil at bay. They had no idea what time it was. But it didn't matter anyway. Together, they just stood there and stared at the oaken wings.

"I feel stupid.", he turned to her.

"Why?"

"Because I've clapped."

"Er – "

"I've been one of the first people to clap when the Sorting Hat finished. I did it out of sympathy. That's just stupid. I pitied him. But instead of considering his words, I did exactly the opposite.", she paused. "I judged."

"It's okay.", Draco sighed.

"No. If it's anything, then it's not okay."

"We all judge. It's just – what humans do."

"Is it true? What they say? The Patils?", she finally looked at him as well. "That you'd been ordered to kill Dumbledore?"

"Yes.", there was no need to lie, he felt.

"But you couldn't?"

"No."

"And _he_ did it instead?"

"Yes."

"So you really are – ?"

"What am I?"

"A – a Death Eater?", he pushed up his sleeves and showed her the Mark. "Whow.", Hannah blinked and he covered it again. "To be honest, you don't look like one.", Draco snorted.

"What a _nice_ compliment."

"No – really – that up there – you're not one of them.", she lightly shook her head.

"Who knows – maybe I am, maybe I'm not,"

"I say, you aren't.", he startled at the hands by his tie. "Yes – I said, you are – but anyone can make mistakes, right? I've been stupid and got punished for it seconds later.", she took off his Prefect's badge and placed it in his free left hand. "Until you don't kill any of us in front of me, you're none of them.", Draco just gazed at her when she snatched the crumpled envelope from his hand and took out the new badge, pinning it to where the old one had sat. "We've been in the same class for five years. I've heard; and seen; you throw many nasty things at others.", she stuffed the envelope into his shoulder bag and reached into her own, taking out her letter. "But that doesn't automatically make you a Death Eater.", she sighed and changed her badges too, put back the torn envelope and offered him her hand. "I think, we should start anew. I'm Hannah."

"Draco.", he mumbled and hesitantly shook her hand; her grip, to his surprise, was rather firm.

"Shall we?", the girl nodded to the doors.

"Yeah.", swallowing, he pushed one of them open.

"Oh Mr Malfoy, Miss Abbot! There you are!", the entire class turned their heads. "If you would please sit down somewhere in the back, yes, together. That would make it easier for me to tell you what you have missed. Ah yes, yes.", she nodded as Draco had pointed on a free desk, closest to the door. "That bench is perfectly alright, Mr Malfoy. I'll be there in a second."

~~#~~

For many minutes, she had just sat in the chair in front of the desk and watched him staring out of the window to her right, doing something with his fingers she couldn't see. She didn't even know whether it had been half an hour or two full ones. There was nothing she could say. Nothing she could do. He had locked her in, but didn't want her to speak. She had no idea what kind of game it was, but slowly it was getting annoying.

"I'm not doing this any longer."

"Be quiet."

"No. You listen to me now."

"I said, silence!", he turned to her.

"No!"

" _Shut up!_ ", he curtly barked at her and spun at the window again; the door clicked. "Get out."

"What? Suddenly I'm – "

"Or hide! Anything!", now he was pleading.

" _What?_ "

"He saw me! I have to let him in! Quick! Do as I say!"

There was a distant humming sound and he opened the window. Ginny had no idea what made her, but one moment later, she had jumped to her feet, hurtled around the old desk and crawled into the alcove between the drawers, leaning against the wooden board that closed the front. Trying not to breathe too significantly, she heard the door click once more and something rushing in through the window. Angry footsteps, marching around. Whoever had just flown in, was apparently struggling for words.

"What a surprise, Lysander.", he said calm and Ginny's stomach crumpled, her eyes gaping, which also brought the pain back to her consciousness. "Are you really so desperately in need to see me? You _can_ recall, that I told you not to come to me unless it is topmost urgent?"

"They broke inta tha Ministry!", Yaxley grunted, giving his accent to the best.

"I beg your pardon?"

" _Potter an' two of 'is friends!_ "

A deafening silence followed his raging. Ginny listened to his panting. The window was being closed. It surprised her that he, though talking to a fellow-countryman, didn't fall into his dialect. She wondered whether Yaxley knew of his descent or not.

"Calm down and tell me all the details."

" _They freed Cattermole's filthy wife!_ "

"I said, calm down.", the slow growl was more than threatening and she was sure, the look Yaxley gave him was close to what she had received from Alecto Carrow at their first personal encounter.

"Alrigh', alrigh'.", falling heavily, Yaxley sank into the chair in front of the desk.

"How did they get in?"

"Polyjuice Potion. They hexed Runcorn an' Hopkirk. An' Cattermole 's well. Took on their shape an' sneaked inta tha hearing. Stole Moody's eye, stunned me an' Umbridge an' freed tha bitch. They ran out an' Disapparated. I could follow them ta Grimmauld Place. Saw tha' house. But then they were gone. Dun' think, they'll return ta it. Hope, at least one of 'em splinched.", Yaxley snarled, another pause.

"You are absolutely sure, it was Potter? Did you see him?", Ginny began to realise why he might have been staring out of the window in silence.

"No. Tha effect was still on. But tha' fake Runcorn called tha' Hopkirk double `Hermione´ an' she called 'im `Harry´. Proof enough? Tha' Granger girl's with 'im, ugly Mudblood. An' I bet tha' Cattermole was tha Weasley brat. Knew there was somethin' wrong with 'er. `Dun' need any branding ta tell me where I belong´. As if! She's a Blood Traitor through an' through! Like tha whole bunch!"

"Ginny Weasley is currently at Hogwarts."

"Ye shouldn' be so sure."

"In fact, I am deadly sure. She is sitting under my desk."

Ginny's heart sank and her eyes nearly popped out. She could hear Yaxley raise. Suddenly she felt her tie, blouse and vest opening. In panic, she tried to hold the things close.

"Why don't you come out and say hello to our guest?", he sneered.

She had no choice. The tall man already hung over the desk, peering down on the other side. Her heart was now throbbing against her larynx, but she knew she had to leave her hiding place. Desperately wrapping her cloths to cover her bra, she crawled back out, only to find Yaxley straighten with a hammering laugh.

"Well, well, well.", he turned back to Severus, presenting him with a grin that was so displeasing to look at, Ginny felt the need to vomit, but also the urge to just punch it right through his head and out at the back. "Gettin' yar rocks off with tha chick? Ha! Righ' ya are!"

"And as I said before I took in my position, I do not like to be disturbed. If there is no more important news,", Severus held his arm towards the window with an utterly self-loving and evil looking smirk, "You know your way out."

Both faces were back to cold at an instant. Giving him a snort, Yaxley became a mass of black fog and rushed back out through the window, which Severus slammed shut even before he mentally let the man pass through the barrier once more. Ginny still pulled her clothes over her chest, standing now.

"What was that for!"

"Saving your family from Azkaban a little longer.", he mumbled, gave he clothes a restoring flick of his wand and walked over to the canvas Phineas had been pushed out by Albus. "No worries. He will keep this meeting to himself. If he doesn't, and they really escaped him so close, he will be in huge trouble anyway.", three firm knocks on the frame and a head peeked in.

"Yes?"

"Any idea where they are?"

"Not the slightest. But the girl sounded in panic. Then Potter summoned some Essence of Dittany from the bag. The flask barely missed my nose."

"Thank you. Please go back and try to hear as much as possible."

The head was gone. Ginny unexpectedly winced when he kicked a pile of old books on the floor.

"What – what does that mean? Dittany? What happened? And how does he know it?"

"I don't want to worry you unnecessarily,", he looked at her, his anger transforming into tiredness as he leaned back against one of the shelves that were too full to store the books he had just spread on the floor, "But it seems, your brother in fact splinched."

" _What?_ ", Ginny moaned.

"Let us hope, it is nothing too serious."

"But – _how does he know_?"

"It's the Weasley boy! He splinched!", the head was back.

"I know, Phineas.", Severus rolled his eyes, but the other man couldn't see it of course. "I'm not stupid. Now go back and only return when I call you. Try to remember as much as possible."

"I – "

"The other side is the interesting, not this one."

"Fine!", the old man snapped and disappeared again.

"Wait – I – know him – "

"Phineas Nigellus Black. There is a portrait of him at Grimmauld Place."

"Oh – ", now Ginny remembered where she had seen it.

"Or rather, was. Hermione hung it off and put it into her bag, so he can inform me on what is going on – well, as long as the bag is open. She told the guys though that she only did it so I _couldn't_ spy on _the place_."

"Brilliant.", Ginny nodded, a little absentminded. "And Ron – "

"As I said, I can only wait for him to get more precise information, which is hard since all he can do is listen. It might be that Ronald keeps some scars. She wouldn't be in panic if it was just tiny damage and I suppose, she was shaking too much to feel secure of a healing spell."

"That – doesn't sound good at all – ", moaned Ginny, watching him wrap his arms around his body and staring into space, in thoughts.

"They will be fine.", he said, obviously more to calm himself than the girl. "How is your cheek?", he asked for the sake of a slightly different topic.

"It hurts a bit, but it's okay.", she touched it ponderingly, but twitched a little at the slight pain, noticing at last that it was swollen.

"No. It isn't."

"Guess, it's not then."

"Not at all.", he pushed himself off the shelf and walked over. "I'm sorry. I have a rather firm hand when it comes to it, you must know. My father's fault."

"Well, came in handy now, didn't it?" Ginny lightly shivered at the warm, soft touch and another sting as he examined her cheek. "Making a credible victim of your ` _private fun_ ´, not?"

"I still feel horrible.", Severus moaned.

"You shouldn't, Sir. There's a second benefit. I told my friends that you'd never hurt us physically."

"Prepare for a sermon of your friends then.", a gentle tip with his wand at her cheek and the hurt was gone.

"Yeah. Thanks.", aspirated Ginny.

He only gave her a stiff nod and paced on, down the few stairs. Gazing at his back, a thought started to penetrate her mind.

"You've blown up their covers either way."

"What do you mean?", he turned around to her.

"It doesn't matter if he will talk about it or not, but he'll for sure _act_. He's been watching The Burrow for weeks now and knowing that it wasn't me who's with Harry, he might just take a closer look at `Ron´.", she stressed the name with her fingers. "He'll notice it's our Ghoul and – "

"He won't."

"What makes you – er – ", he went over to the fireplace and took some Floo powder from a pot on the mantelpiece.

"Come here. You will explain yourself to your parents, just in case he might really confront them with the topic. Invent any story you feel like, but do it quick. If he really pays them a visit, you will have to be faster."

"Er – "

"Very much faster."

~~#~~


	47. Chapter 46 - An Army of Light

– Chapter 46 –

 **An Army of Light**

Hundreds of shoes echoed up from the ground even before they came in sight. Making it sway, the wind played with a black cloak and hair, up in one of the high outer roof windows which normally the owls would use to enter the Great Hall for delivering their mail. Now the hall below was deserted and he stood alone, his eyes drifting over the grey lands. Clouds were still darkening the sky and a moist autumn smell hung in the air. It would be raining again today, latest at nightfall, he thought. The wet cobbles shimmered slightly in the gloom. There was no sound, but he felt he wasn't alone.

"Didn't anyone tell you it is not wise to break school rules, Miss Lovegood,"

"Oh I'm quite certain you won't punish me, Sir.", she stepped out to him from the battlements under the roof.

"Is that your belief?"

"It is, yes.", a scarce smirk and huff left him. "Not the tower anymore?"

"Don't ask questions of which you know the answers."

"It's not a bad place, Professor.", she continued softly. "No one has been murdered up there, not really, you know that. Life isn't entirely bad."

"How can you know.", he said stiff when the neat rows of marching students appeared in the front courtyard, flanked by their teachers and led by the Death Eater twins.

"I know you sacrificed a lot. But it wasn't in vain. There's still hope. More than you might believe, Sir. Your sacrifices haven't been in vain."

"We will see.", he sighed and turned to her.

A cry of terror echoed through the ice cold air. Heads were turning in equal fear when the masses had stopped walking almost instantly. An incantation was shouted, but the cat of light was knocked away to mist by dark bony fingers without effort, so were a swan and fox, followed by a barely recognisable horse.

Several more attempts to conjure Patronuses failed as well and one of the Dementors surrounding them was heading for the Hufflepuffs, who fled into various directions, no clue where to actually run to. Just when it focused on one of the girls, a loudly screeching crow was strong enough to push it away from her, brandishing its wings wildly. But the crow was killed likely then and it wasn't until a bright doe hit it with full force that the Dementors would finally back away from the students when it guarded those by rushing around and forming a fence of light between the frightened and the hooded.

Huffing madly, the doe confronted the attacker again, the Dementor seeming afraid itself of the power of what it was facing. Equally enraged, her caster landed between the doe and Draco, who couldn't get into the glowing circle anymore. Some strong hand had seized him by the collar then.

"What was _that_ , boy!", Amycus snarled irate. "Since when can you – "

Draco's knees gave in and he sank to the ground when he was dropped. Amycus had been knocked over by the doe that was now standing above him. His startled face stared up at her fierce expression, unable to see properly due to the intensity of the light. Meanwhile the Dementor went for another try, but a second Patronus left the black wand, forcing it away from the students, equally blinded by the otter's light.

Some of the students had gained enough consciousness to recognise the animal for what it was. A hare rushed down to them and together the smaller animals as well as a much brighter horse at last drove back the dark creatures, away from the courtyard, causing the air to become slightly warmer. All, but one. Though contained by the otter, the Dementor hit the hare so hard it collapsed and Luna stumbled against the archway, dangerously close to the abyss. The otter had ducked away in last second and was joined by the doe that struck at the Dementor's head. At last that forced it to flee as well. Amycus sat up.

"The Dark Lord will not be amused when he gets to know that you – "

"The Dark Lord,", Severus huffed back, as mad as his Patronuses, "Has ordered them to obey me and they clearly broke their vow by attacking."

"Certainly. But that you can create such – "

"Do you think, I would have agreed with him to let them guard Hogwarts, if I wasn't able to repel them? I am perfectly informed on their nature and they just prove me right themselves. Besides, tell him, if you so desperately wish to hear him laugh. He knows that I have been capable of such long before I set foot into his circle. Even _he_ reads the _Prophet_ at times. Or lets somebody read it to him, whatever."

"Well, I don't give a damn about _your_ excuses, if that's true.", he got up with his sister's help and straightened his robes. "But what are his?", Amycus pushed Draco's shoulder – and landed on the cobblestones again, this time without the help of a Patronus, but Alecto with him.

"Dare to touch him again,", Severus spat, all the light vaporising after a blinding but soundless blast, "And I swear you will wish you were never born! Now get inside, _everyone!_ ", there was no need for anymore force to make students and teachers run alike. "And don't think that this incident changes a thing about the school rules! _TOMORROW, AFTER LUNCH!_ "

~~#~~

Spiked sticks drilled into flesh, past bones and into his soul. At least that was what he felt when he tried to avoid all of their eyes. Even though he wasn't standing alone and he didn't really know what that was like, he now had the impression of knowing how it felt being crucified head down on a cross of poisoned nails.

Some had their arms crossed, others their fear downright dripping from their eyes. The doors behind him opened and in came a beaming figure with an anxious looking elderly woman, giving him a good excuse to turn away from the stares. When the wooden wings fell shut, it was just the silence again, until the woman gasped, noticing where she had been brought.

"Is this – oh my goodness – "

"The DA, Professor.", Ginevra, at Draco's side, answered her. "`Dumbledore's Army´. At least what's left – _and loyal_.", everyone knew that she was explicitly referring to Marietta, Cho and Zacharias who weren't there due to having quite surprisingly lost their coins without even having noticed the fact yet.

"And _him_.", Neville noted. "What's he doing here?"

"If you'd give me time to breathe, I'd explain.", Ginevra snapped.

"You honestly don't want him in, do you? He wanted to kill Dumbledore!"

"No one ever said he _wanted_ to,", Hannah noted with a sideglance at Neville.

"And he's in Slytherin. Do you see any other Slytherins here? Why's that, I ask – oh yes, even Harry understood that they're just trouble! I see no reason to accept him! He's a Death Eater, if you haven't noticed!"

"Do you know a real Death Eater who can conjure a Patronus?", Luna meant but was ignored likewise.

"You let an enemy in our rows! Great leader, you are!"

"If you'd _let us breathe_ , Longbottom,", Draco hissed, "We'd explain! I wouldn't be here, if she hadn't asked me to come,"

"Great! There we – "

"I'd do that on my own without you as well!"

"Doing _what_ on your own, huh?"

"Your group seems perfectly organised, Miss Weasley.", McGonagall sighed.

"I'd explain, if you'D let me!", Draco raged.

"You think I'd want to listen to anything you think you got to – "

" _SHUT UP!_ "

Everyone jumped at the yell and the blast wave that erupted from the otherwise so gentle and angelic girl who now panted like a Dragon that had been hit on the tail with a huge hammer. Even McGonagall backed away from her in shock. Sure she had total control over her colleagues, Luna calmed down to speak with her usual voice, though without the tiniest hint of a smile, but utter confidence in her words.

"We need him. He's great at Occlumency, can conjure a full corporeal and quite effective Patronus, is determined and has influence on Professor Snape. Draco is as much a Death Eater as any of us here is. There had been circumstances that made him end up being branded with the Dark Mark, but that means only greater use for us. If any, we need _him_. He's the perfect spy. And just because he was sorted into Slytherin, it doesn't mean that he can't be as wise as a true Ravenclaw, as brave as a true Gryffindor or as much a great friend as a true Hufflepuff. Ginny and I believe, he can be all of that, and combined with his cunningness, he's the best option we have."

"If that's true and you're right,", Neville continued calm as well, "You think Harry would want him in?"

"Harry's not here. He's not leading this group anymore.", Ginny pointed out as determined as Luna. " _We_ are."

"I think, he'd want to have him in, once he found out what really drives Draco.", Luna went on. "It's nothing more than what drives each of us. He fears for his family. He's got the same motive. Didn't you hear what the Sorting Hat said? We shall not judge hastily. There's always more to a person than what meets the eye, Neville. You know that yourself. And if anyone has better arguments than the ones I just gave you, say it out loud and we'll discuss that."

~~#~~

An enchanted melody drifted up from the ground floor, reaching his ears when he walked the castle for getting his mind off, like so many times in the past. A book clutched tightly in hand, he snorted at the setting sun through a window. Slightly upset, he made his way through the corridor, down the marble staircase and into the Entrance Hall, where the oaken front gate was securely shut, but the gilded doors of the Great Hall stood widely open. Sitting at the piano, Flitwick backed the choir that stood in full uniform as usual, lined up in four rows. Surprising him a little, placed between choir and piano, Luna sang a solo, sticking out above all in a powerful way he had never heard her singing alike.

Slowly, the choristers began to notice him, but that was already the biggest distraction he was. Stubborn, they continued singing as though he wasn't there. Flitwick, however, didn't see him.

Stepping lively, he approached the group through the middle corridor, his shoes resounding demonstratively, which made Flitwick's head turn, whereupon he slipped and had to skip a bar to get back into the song, the nervousness obvious. What finally stopped him; and the choir in consequence; was the lid being closed down onto the keys. He could just pull back his fingers. Disgruntled, he glared up at the much taller, grim man.

"I can not remember having given you permission. According to Educational Decree number twenty-four, you are running an illegal organisation and I find myself forced to disband it."

"You can't do this!", Flitwick climbed onto the stool to be able to look him directly in the eyes. "Defending us from Dementors but forbidding the choir – "

"I am Headmaster of this school and you are to follow my command. Unless you wish yourself or your students to be punished for your violation, I ask you to leave this hall immediately. They all are close to receiving detention anyway. It is nearly eight o'clock. They'd do well to have returned to their Houses by that time. For the moment, I remain with a warning. But should I obtain knowledge of another meeting of this kind, I see myself forced to take legal measures. And when have _you_ decided to return to this dreadful group anyway, Miss Lovegood?", he didn't take his eyes off Flitwick, who gritted his teeth.

"Oh, I haven't.", answered Luna. "I am singing the soli, which doesn't make me a part of the choir in whole, but rather an additional singer and I'm not standing in the rows either."

"The choir is all you left me.", Flitwick hissed under his breath, taking his wand from his pocket and holding it at Severus' throat. "You cannot take that away from me as well."

"As far as I can recall, you are still a teacher. Or does teaching not give you any pleasure anymore? No? Fine, then it is settled.", Severus snarled. "And put away your wand. Otherwise – "

"Otherwise _what_? Are you going to kill me?"

"Not nearly as insufficient. You would die fast without having time to think about your errors."

"Ah I see – going to torture me then, you coward? Oh come on. Kill me. You want it quick, I know it. I know you want me away. Why don't you do it now? Right in front of the students so they see what a monster you are."

"I said, put away your wand.", Severus placed his book on top of the piano.

"No."

"And sit down.", he then opened the lid again.

"What?"

" _Shut up and sit down_.", Flitwick only grunted but finally did as he was told, yet his body seemed to struggle a little. "And now put your hands on the keys.", the small man did.

Luna was the only one not to wince or gasp or scream apart from Severus, when the cry of pain echoed through the hall above the chilling sound of the keys and far out through the open doors. He had slammed the lid shut, crushing Flitwick's fingers. Thick tears stood in Flitwick's eyes and he tried to breathe anyhow. They had cracked where the wood had met with them the moment the keys had had no more space to give in. Not the slightest flicker of regret could be seen on Severus' cold expression. He was still breathing calmly when he opened the lid to reveal the bruised, contorted fingers that were starting to swell. The pain becoming worse, Flitwick slid off the stool and hurtled from the hall, upstairs.

"Now, who else wishes to question my authority?", Severus said quite softly to the shocked teenagers. "I will not say, he didn't force you to come. Therefore you get away with the warning I have spoken. Leave before I actually lose myself."

None had to be told twice. Real panic in their faces, they left the Great Hall running. Not even turning, he closed the doors with a wave of his hand when he couldn't hear them anymore. There was some blood on the keys where Flitwick's fingers had been. Sighing, Severus wiped it off with a handkerchief he pulled from his trousers, whereby the strings gave a mournful sounding chime. Thoughtful, he played those keys – and played them again. It had been months since he had last played on his piano and the notes – they reminded him of a melody he had – actually it was an entire song.

The moment he sat down and started playing it, the one he had written it for, appeared before his closed eyes, dancing along with the sad melody. In truth she had danced to another song, but it had been then that the melody had come to him, locking away the music of the band or the people around or the one she had danced with. The memories of the evening spinning in his head, he played the song she had never heard. And that was probably the biggest regret he had ever felt. That he had told her so many times how much he loved her, but that he had never played that song to her and now she was gone somewhere, out of reach. The tears that trailed down his cheeks until he came to the song's end, didn't manage to lift the weight on his heart.

Nor did the flask he searched for in his pouch or the stream of memories he extracted into it. Taking a deep, trembling breath, he wiped off his tears, stoppered the flask and turned to the girl, holding up the small vessel. The warmth of her fingers against his that were unusually cold, made him startle a little when she took it and eyed it with interest, before she conjured a white string and knotted it around the neck of the flask. She hung it around her own neck and hid it under her clothes.

"If I should be – ", he aspirated and swallowed, "Gone – before the war is over – give it to Harry. But – _please_ – wait until – he is ready. Otherwise he wouldn't understand the meaning."

"Alright, Sir.", Luna whispered with a smile and helped him up when she found him having troubles.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Good night, Professor."

"Yes.", Severus sighed, "Good night, Miss Lovegood.", and left through the backdoor.

~~#~~

Not even a third through the following breakfast time, the reason for Professor Flitwick's absence from it had spread in the hall like a bush fire and scornful looks hit the middle of the staff table, but he was used to such. Ignoring them, he took a bite off his bread and studied the thick raindrops hitting and gliding down the high windows. And there was indeed a shield around him, Alecto Carrow was forced to realise when she wanted to bend closer to him for having a word, her head bouncing against an invisible wall. The malicious smirk reached the corner of his mouth similarly quick as she rubbed her head and was gone by the moment she frowned at him, not only anymore because of the purple scarf with silvery stars he wore to his purple embroidered black robe today.

It was then that the attention of most people got drawn to a blonde hopping into the hall, her long waves bumping up and down with her lively movement. To her chest, she held a book and instead of going for the Ravenclaw table by the fireplace, she took the central corridor, straight up to the Headmaster, more and more eyes following her. He couldn't help seeing the smiling girl as well of course and frowned at her like the woman to his right did.

"Good morning, Headmaster.", she came to halt right before him, not even out of breath.

"Good morning, Miss Lovegood,", Severus replied, a little unsure what she wanted to achieve by this more than direct move.

"You forgot that yesterday.", Luna held the book over the table and it crossed the shield as though that didn't exist.

"Well, thank you.", he gave her a bored chuckle and sigh, putting the book down between her and his plate. "Yes? Any more to say?"

"Oh, nothing, Sir. Just that it's wise."

"What is wise, Miss Lovegood?

"Wearing that scarf today. It seems it is getting colder now."

For some moments, his empty stare and her soft smile only faced one another. Then her smile grew bigger and she faintly winked at him before she hopped off to her House table, not caring that her shoes were the only sound left in the otherwise motionless hall and sat down, starting her breakfast with topmost joy. Draco slipped an amused grunt into his hand, ignoring like her, the glances he received and raised early for his first lesson, swallowing down his knowledge with his last spoonful of cereals.

Thoughts going wild in his mind, he made a detour over a lavatory to brush his teeth. Just when he spat out the paste, he nearly choked from the additional face in the mirror.

"Haven't seen you in my toilet for a long time, Draco.", Myrtle snickered.

"Sorry. I've been busy. How are you?"

"Well, dead.", she moaned childishly.

"And apart from that tragedy?"

"Oh, I don't know,", the ghost sang and floated away while Draco washed his mouth. "How should I be feeling, lonely as I am?"

"Ever tried talking to any of the other ghosts?"

"I've been dead for more than twice as long as you've been alive. Guess.", grunted Myrtle and sat down on top of an open cabin door, her head in her hands.

"If you stopped being sarcastic towards them, they might like you as the girl you actually are. Hard to admit, but it seems to be working for me. At least in some cases. I gotta go now. Defence starts soon. See you."

"Bye,", she smiled after him and he could hear her disappear splashing in a toilet.

In some cases – and they were outnumbered and though stubborn, unable to fully convince the others. That was the downside of telling only half of the truth, he considered, sighing to himself as he took the last steps up the tower to the classroom. When he entered it through the already open door, he found it empty. Almost empty, actually. Someone sat on a bench in the front row and studied the rain against the window by that desk. Gently dropping his bag on the floor, he sat down at her right and she turned her head to him with a sad smirk.

"Hey.", he whispered his concern.

"Hey.", Hannah replied equally. "What's with that scarf?"

"Scarf?", Draco frowned.

"The scarf Snape's wearing. And his robe's different. I take it, you know the reason?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"It's – ", he swallowed and stared over the table, at the stairs up to the office door behind the teacher's desk, unsure whether to tell her. "That's something very private."

"You can tell me. I swear, I won't say."

"Today's – ", Draco aspirated, not daring to look at her, "It's Hermione Granger's birthday."

"Er – ", Hannah's eyebrows narrowed. "And why would that make him wear – "

"I said it, didn't I?", he huffed and she swung her legs over the bench, turning, now sitting a little closer to him and able to look at him quite straight.

"Does he love her, or what?", she gave him a languid frown.

"He never said, but yes? Perhaps? I don't know – it seems he does, doesn't it?"

"I thought he tells you everything?", Hannah meant calm and he was surprised that she reacted rather relaxed on the probable news of a relationship like that.

"No? Not even my father tells me everything he should."

"Do you tell your father everything you should?"

"Hell, no.", Draco chuckled stifled and startled at the touch of her fingers when she wiped a lose strand behind his left ear.

"You need a cut. Or do you want to let it grow?"

"Dunno – maybe – but it's thin, unlike my parents'. No idea why. You've got nice hair,", he considered, making her blush with a slight laugh.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well,", she smiled and wiped some strands behind his other ear, "I could give you some of my shampoo and we'll see whether it works as good on yours then,"

"Yeah. That's – that's a good idea – ", her warm hand on his cheek confused him a bit, but he couldn't deny it felt good.

"I like you, you know?", she whispered so low it was hard to catch.

"I like you too.", Draco returned the whisper.

"I really like you."

"I think, I really like you as well."

"I mean, _really_."

"So – do I – "

Though she had taken the first step and it was her to softly dig her fingers into his hair when their eyes closed, he could swear it had been him to kiss her first. But it didn't matter, actually. Nothing mattered more now than what they both did. Nothing, until they heard footsteps in their semi-consciousness and separated with a quiet, embarrassed giggle. Hannah spun again; they acted as though nothing had happened when their classmates entered, yet curious why they were sitting there, completely alone.

But who was to blame them? They hadn't planned that at all. Many things were happening unplanned recently, despite everyone was working on the one or other plan, harder than ever. Or maybe it was due to that, that none of those plans really seemed to work out. So it was the things that happened unplanned that would herald the biggest changes.

"What're you still talking for!", Amycus Carrow barked when he slammed the door shut behind and the last students jumped for their seats. "Get out your books. We're doing a little theoretical lesson today. Page forty-one, class. You will read that thoroughly and then we'll practice. Yes?", Parvati Patil's hand was up.

"The Imperius Curse, Sir?"

"That's right, chit.", he sneered with an evil grin. "Complaining?"

"Er – no – ", Parvati moaned and stared back down on the printed letters.

"Exactly. Nothing to complain. Now _read!_ ", he yelled at the class and sat down himself, scanning the rows with caution. "Where's that Hufflepuff git? That – Fetchy? Or what was it?"

"I – I'm here, Professor.", Justin whimpered from the last row, his hand up now as well.

"Right. Close escape.", the boy swallowed, knowing that he would have received detention if he had spoken only a second too late or too early. "Read, or you won't get away with that. And ten points from Hufflepuff, thanks to you, hussy. Get back where you belong.", Hannah ferociously collected her things and went to sit with Susan. "And you there, move along. No more than two students on a bench."

That resulted in Pansy Parkinson ending up at Draco's right, much to his discomfort. Having to share a bench with his ex-girlfriend and younger version of his aunt right after he had kissed a girl he wondrously felt something for, was the last anyone could wish for. And as if Pansy felt it though he knew he was effectively shielding his mind, she lifted her nose up high with a deep breath and concentrated on her book, sulking massively. Sighing as well, Draco rolled his eyes and looked out of the window.

"Hey! What do you think, you're doing there?", Amycus hissed. "Read!"

"I know everything I need to know about that curse.", Draco mumbled to the window.

"First, no matter what we might share, I'm your teacher and you're to address me either as `Sir´ or `Professor´, and second, when I tell you to read, you'll do that, you got me?"

"Tz.", Draco got out his book and slammed it on the tabletop, making Pansy wince and almost slip from the bench.

"And now you put that back in, get it out again and place it on the desk like you should.", the boy huffed, shortly stuck the book into his bag and then got up with it. "What are you doing?", he went towards him and dropped it between his arms with lively protest and a menacing stare.

"I put it on the desk, _Professor_.", Draco snarled, gaining some disbelieving chuckles from students of all four Houses that sat separated.

"I meant, _your_ desk.", he picked it up again and turned to leave. "Where are you going!"

"I'm going to put it on _my_ desk, just like you ordered me.

"And why then are you – "

"I'll have to leave the castle in order to do so, _Sir_. My desk's at home. Didn't fit into my trunk, you see.", that managed to raise the mood in the class so high they laughed and clapped with cheer and someone even whistled.

"SILENCE!", Amycus raged, on his feet and the class fell still. "GET BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY, YOU UNRULY LOUT!", Draco turned on the spot and marched back up to him.

"What did you just call me?", he gritted his teeth.

"You understood me quite well, boy.", Amycus had drawn his wand. "If you claim to know so much about the Imperius Curse, why don't you give your classmates a little example, eh? _Imperio!_ "

Draco winced, trying to resist it. But the curse had come unexpected, was strong and hard to fight and that felt like a shell spiked with poisonous needles was closing him in. A feeling he knew well by now: it was how pure horror felt to him. His legs moved, unable to stop and he placed the book carefully where he had slammed it previously. Amycus closed up behind him. Draco heard something that sounded like a belt being opened. He had been too focused on closing his mind before the curse had hit him. That made him somewhat trapped in a state of half ability. He tried hard to reach for the book or the wand in his sleeve, anything to hit Pansy's face with, which presented him an expression of malevolent joy about what in her opinion seemed to be justice.

"And now, we'll see if the sissy cries like his father. Why don't you be a good boy and give dear Miss Parkinson here a show, eh? I bet she never heard you. Never got it that far, huh? Why don't you let her hear you scream, hmm? Be a good boy and let down your pants."

The others were too shocked to intervene. But Draco had gained some control. His teeth pressed tightly together, he dug his fingers into the wood, the tips aching as they slid back closer to the edge for doing what Amycus wanted them to and he barely saw the trail of blood he pulled over the surface in the small gap between his lids. Someone had jumped up in the corners of those slits, but he hardly recognised the guy's voice, shouting _Protego_ without effect before he was knocked back over his bench and hit the table behind, accompanied by screams of horror. He had passed out and Draco's hands were close to the edge when the classroom door crashed open.

That was enough to make the shell snap loose and he hung against the desk, panting his lungs out. He didn't care that Pansy bent away with disgust or that someone had finally gained enough courage to come to his aid as well. He just collapsed into that person's arms, sinking to the floor with them. By the gasp, he knew it was a girl. Due to his new position and his view clearing, he saw what had happened. Amycus was pinned to the ceiling above the teacher's desk, struggling against some invisible force, evidently suffocating him. Then he discovered the man that had his bare hand directed up from between the desks of the first row. He couldn't make out his expression from down there, but he knew it to be the impersonation of fury. Though the deep voice was unreally calm.

"You appear to suffer from a horrible short-term memory, Amycus. Let me jog it a little. What have I said, only seventeen days ago?", but the other man only gargled, on the verge of death. "What was that? I couldn't understand – oh, maybe this will help.", a mere flick of the wrist made him crash onto the desk with his back, the cry of pain not leaving him in his quick attempt to breathe, his head hanging down, turned to the students, and the legs on the other side. "Please repeat.", but Amycus' face was twisted and tears ran down his forehead. "No?"

Shaking with the pain, he tried to bring his arms together – Draco understood and, fully conscious again, pulled his wand when he pushed himself up from the floor. Not willing to wait, he pointed it at Amycus.

"Cru-", the curse didn't fully hit him as Severus had as well understood what Amycus had wanted to do and the man's arms and legs snapped together, making him form a stiff board on the desk, head and legs now horizontally in the air. "Cio – ", Draco aspirated the second half of the incantation, seeing that he was already so much in pain that the flat strike hadn't had any effect at all, even if he hadn't been bound.

"Are you all right?", he asked when he went for Amycus' left arm.

"Yeah – ", the boy gargled, "I'm – I'm fine – what're you – "

"You, _my friend_ , will never be foolish again so as to try calling him.", he pushed up the sleeve and twisted the arm free from the curse; everyone heard the elbow crack. "If you should be incapable of remembering the list, maybe this – ", upon the quick slashing of his wand he had finally pulled from his sleeve, Draco yelped and clutched his own arm, he however swallowed down the pain and Amycus was unable to express it, "Will do. Sorry, Draco. Not my fault that we are connected in that way.", Severus turned to him. "But that is the only way apart from dying and I want him to live with his shame."

"It's – it's okay,", Draco moaned gasping, "I don't mind. But don't you think he might be curious why you expelled him? I mean, isn't he the only one who – "

"The Dark Lord entrusted me with many tasks. If he didn't value my favours, he would have placed me on top of the Ministry. Believe me as I say, he has granted me certain permissions you wouldn't dare to dream about. It was beautifully overwhelming to see the excitement fall from your aunt's face when he called my name instead of hers as he announced his lieutenant. It is common news that she abhorred me, but I must say, it slightly pleases me that no word is worthy describing her new feelings for me."

"Well,", Draco chuckled, "Congratulations on the promotion, then."

"Thank you.", Severus sighed, his eyes drifting over the still anxious seventh-years, halting at the Gryffindors that dedicated to get the dizzy Neville back onto his feet.

"You – er – you got some blood on your scarf,"

"What?", he looked down and huffed. "O fodder – ", Severus murmured to himself and left the classroom swiftly.

"Draco?", a timid voice came from the floor and he spun around.

"Oh my – ", he swallowed and went back over to help Hannah up.

"Thanks.", she smirked. "What are we – ", he followed her eyes and slightly turned back at Amycus who still faced the ceiling, blood trickling from the cut on his arm, down onto the desktop.

"Gonna do with him?"

"Yes."

"We'll let him bleed.", Draco snorted and left as well.

"Well, if you say so,", Hannah chuckled flatly and followed him.

"Bitch.", someone hissed.

"What?", she stopped and turned.

"You heard me right, worthless Half-Blood.", Pansy snarled. "You'll regret that."

"And what am I going to regret?"

"You know very well what."

"Tz."

Hannah just shook her head and went for her bag and the door, though not without a concerned glance at Neville, who gave her to understand that he was fine. It was not until she reached the basement that she caught up with Draco who stopped and turned for her, with a soft smile when he recognised her.

"You – forgot – your bag – ", she panted and slowed down to halt in front of him.

"Oh. Thanks.", Draco reached for taking it from her, but she cut off his move.

"Oh my god!", Hannah gasped. "You're – you're bleeding!"

"Am I?", he stared down on his fingertips like her. "Gosh – I'm bleeding! Didn't notice. Er – there's a plastic bag in my bag."

"A plastic bag?", she eyed him sceptical, but rummaged for it.

"A yellow plastic bag."

"Got it."

"Great.", he pointed his wand inside and out soared a little flask which he quickly caught. "Could you drip that on my fingers, please?"

"Is that Essence of Dittany?", she did as he asked, trying to read the thin writing, yet he had more the impression that reading was just an excuse and that she had recognised it by its apparently very faint smell or some other detail Draco himself couldn't perceive.

"Yeah. Thanks.", and the things went securely back into his shoulder bag which he finally took and hung where it belonged, before he gave her a kiss, making her giggle and return it.

"Where are we going now?"

"Going?"

"We have more than a period until Charms."

"Oh. Didn't think about that. Well, but if you insist, I believe to know a place."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And we'll be alone there?"

"If no one else has exactly the same idea,", Draco considered, "Yes, we'll be alone. And they're coming already, so let's go."

Indeed some of their classmates could be heard climbing downstairs, forcing them onward. Nevertheless they took a cautious glance around every corner just in case, therefore needing almost twice as long for their way up as they would have under normal circumstances, although they took every shortcut possible.

Still holding hands, Draco pushed aside the tapestry and they stepped out into the seventh floor corridor towards an infamous wall. Once the door was there, Draco opened it for them and they slipped in, closing it behind.

"Oh wow!", Hannah was astonished and Draco saw soon why, though puffing a little at the discovery. "That's absolutely beautiful!"

She directly went for the white four-poster with silky curtains, dropping her cloak, bag and shoes on the way, and jumped in lively, costing Draco a laugh. There was no visible source of the soft light, but everything about the cosy small room with golden wallpaper was draped artistically with silk alike and though that was not in the slightest what he had intended the room to become, he couldn't deny he liked it as much as Hannah did, who now crawled under the soft looking white blanket, her blond hair spread on the big white pillow. Draco left the same of his things by the foot of the bed and joined her in the more than comfortable bed for a few tender kisses.

"I had no idea you were such a charmer.", the girl giggled and fondled his cheek.

"You think, I had?", he chuckled back, raising a bright laugh from her.

"You know,", she continued when they cuddled together, "I never had a boyfriend before."

"Nor had I.", Draco said dazed.

"Would have surely shocked Pansy."

"Er – what? Hey!", he moaned at the canopy. "I – yeah. That too. But I actually meant, I never had a girlfriend."

"And – _Pansy_?"

"She hadn't either.", Draco winked. "No, seriously, I never really felt something for her. Sure, we were friends and she totally fancies me, still, and she's kinda pretty and we kissed and all, but I wasn't, well – er – _happy_. I mean, I've hardly ever been happy, but with her, I definitely wasn't."

"Are you happy now?"

"I'd be the worst liar in the world if I said I'm not. I have no idea how you do that – erasing – distress – "

Draco waited for an answer, but she only smiled at it and so he shut his eyes like her, enjoying the closeness and warmth. The classroom seemed so far away now, as if years had passed since. He could gladly say that he was in fact happy. So happy that he forgot time. So happy that it needed a soft kiss on his cheek for him to wake up. His own smile was back. Though something didn't fit. This hadn't been her lips. He knew that touch, far better than hers and she was still lying beside him in a way she couldn't have kissed him. Especially not on that cheek. Realising that all in probably a single second, he startled up, unintentionally waking her with a grunt. While she still rubbed her eyes with slight upset, his were wide open, seeking for the disturber, whom he found at his right by the bed, sitting on a chair that hadn't been there before.

"Good morning,", he said softly and quiet, showing an amused but gentle smirk.

"What the – ", Draco mumbled, awake as if thrown into a pool of icy water. "Hey!", he moaned. "What are _you_ doing here! And how d'you get in!"

"You are getting late for Charms."

"Oh my god!", Hannah gasped and sat straight, but Draco fell back onto the bed, huffing.

"I'm not going.", the boy mumbled to the canopy and closed his eyes again.

"No one will blame you.", he heard Severus say. "But _you_ should."

"And how I should!", Hannah muttered, gave Draco a quick, hesitant kiss and slipped out at the other side of the bed for getting her things. "See you!", she giggled from the door, audibly embarrassed, and was gone.

"Thanks.", Draco growled and rolled onto his left, pulling the blanket over his head.

"As I said, no one will blame _you_ of all, after what happened, but she is Head Girl as well. If the others have recovered enough for going to their next lessons, it is necessary for her to go, more than for anyone else. She has responsibility now and that includes, not only but as well, being a role model for every student of this school."

"What're you doing?"

"You posses remarkable hearing, Draco.", Severus smirked and climbed under the blanket, having hung his robe and scarf onto the backrest of the chair and placed his shoes below.

"If you say so,", he sighed, turned to him and comforted himself against his chest, welcoming the hand that stroked his head.

~~#~~


	48. Chapter 47 - Spanish Eyes

– Chapter 47 –

 **Spanish Eyes**

Crunching came from the sombre kitchen. Breakfast was in – full swing. A big space between, Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle sat on the one end of the dark wooden table, the Muggle family on their opposite. Other than the sound of their eating and the ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall, a disgusted silence floated between them, mostly coming from the head of the family. An unusual white stood in his face as he dug into his ham. His wife was white as him, her empty stare on her plate, just like their son's.

As though a grenade had just exploded on the kitchen table, all five jumped when the doorbell rang. Dedalus and Hestia had their wands ready at an instant and they hurried to the dark corridor, followed by the clumsily bumping man who seemed to have lost every remaining bit of colour on his skin at last.

"Who's there!", Dedalus called through the closed wooden front door.

"Pos' fer Mr Vernon Dursley!", the deep voice of a man with a heavy accent answered.

The three exchanged a number of very different, but mostly confused and anxious looks. Then, only hesitating, Vernon squeezed himself to the door and tilted the metal lid in front of the spy hole. Visible relief rushed through his body as he recognised the man, even though he hadn't seen him in ages.

"It's alright. It's the postman."

"Why would a postman come here?", Hestia hissed. "No one knows you live here now!"

"Maybe he saw us moving in.", Vernon considered. "Incredible that he started to work here and it is us who move to exactly the same place. Now go back to the kitchen, will you? I can handle that. I know him."

"But he might be – "

"No, no, that's him. I know him. He's gotten rid of his beard, but he's still the same. Go, go, go!", a little stunned by his angry grimace, the pair hurtled back to where he wanted them; meanwhile he had already unlocked and opened the door. "Oh what a sight!", he sang at the man, his broad, joyful grin fully convincing.

"Mornin',", the other smirked back.

"The world is small, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"Took me a while to recognise you without the beard."

"Yeah. Needed a change.", the postman stroked a hand over his bare chin.

"I wondered where you'd gone. You left without a word. Been moved here?"

"Been, yes. Bu' it's a nice lil village. Nuthin' ter complain."

"Oh where are my manners – do come in! Well, of course only if you're done for today."

"I go' sum' time on me 'ands, yes! Thanks!"

The postman closed the door behind, with a checking glance outside. Vernon led him into the kitchen, walking ahead.

"Hang on, I don't even know your name!"

He chuckled and turned in the moment the postman arrived in the small room as well. But when the postman dropped his bag by the wall and took off his cap as well as the reading specs and rubber band that held his hair in a ponytail, Petunia escaped a high pitched shriek. Hestia and Dedalus had drawn their wands in no time again, even before he could fully remove his fake earring.

"You!", Petunia gargled, her voice still higher than usual. "What are you doing here! Get out of this house, you freak!"

"You remember him, darling?", Vernon gazed between them, like his son. "But he – "

"Because he works for the enemy!", raged Dedalus, ignoring Vernon's add with his wand trembling. "If you still want to live, then do what she says!"

"Oh I will.", Severus said calm, having left his Jumble-Scottish behind at the door and dropped the false earring in his pocket. "But not without you."

"We're rather dying than letting ourselves be dragged out by you, you foul – ", started Hestia but was shocked to see her and her friend's wand lower by a gentle move of the newcomer's hand.

"If you would listen to me, then you would get to know that exactly that enemy has tracked you."

"And sent – "

"No, Dedalus, I am here on my own account. He does not know I am."

" _Sure._ "

"Have you said his name?"

"Whose name?"

"The Dark Lord's name. He has spoken a Taboo on it. One of you must have said his name. That is the only logical explanation to me how they could possibly have found you. There are Death Eaters patrolling up and down the street. You wouldn't even survive buying milk. They burnt down your house already, Dedalus, and now one of you apparently used his name in here as well. But never mind, I can get you out, perhaps without any notice."

"And we are to believe that?", Petunia sang with thin lips, but he just approached her.

"Yes.", he said softly, though didn't stop walking when she backed away against the sink. "Yes, Petunia. You can trust me. I mean you no harm.", but she reached for a knife. "Put that down, Petunia. For your son. He shouldn't see his mother hurting others."

"What do you care, Snape. What do you care about what I do. Or about my son."

"You are right. There is no reason for you to see why. No reason to trust me. But please do. Trust me, Petunia. For once in your life – trust me. Do it for Lily."

"Lily's dead. And why should I ever want to do something for her."

"Because she was your sister. You didn't hate her. You wouldn't have given her son shelter if you hated her."

"Even if. Why should you help us.", the open disgust in her was yet not enough to hide her anxiety.

"Because of exactly that reason. Because I haven't forgotten what you gave Harry."

"I haven't given him anything.", she pursed her lips.

"Could I have a word with you in private?"

"Petunia – what is going on here?", Vernon moaned but his wife just went for the living room, where she waited for Severus to follow her and closed the door behind, slightly wincing when he pulled his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at the door, which gave a humming sound.

"What do you want."

"You shouldn't be so sure about that.", he sighed and granted himself an overview of the cosy old room, mostly held in dark reds and browns. "Yes, you were horrible to him, but that made him strong. And you gave him a kind of home, even if it might take him years to value that."

"And that is why?"

"That is why."

"They are really down there?"

"They are."

"Did they recognise you?"

"No."

"How did you get in?"

"Albus left me a note on where you will be brought. I am your secret keeper now."

"So we have to trust you?"

"No.", Severus remained calm and serious. "But it would be an asset."

"Harry said you killed Dumbledore."

"Did he say that?"

"Yes. He let it – slip through. Of course neither Vernon nor Dudley understand what that means. They were just surprised to hear he is dead. And I as- well, a little. Though it didn't surprise me that it is supposed to be you who did it."

"Naturally."

"You confess?", she almost imitated his coldness.

"I won't dispute."

"And we are to trust you? You killed the one who made me do what I never wanted and we are to trust you?"

"Now, if you never wanted to do that for him, and I got him out of the way, wouldn't that be some kind of favour?", she didn't seem too amused, but understood what he meant. "As I said, I don't really expect any trust. I solely hope for it, for your own good."

"You killed Dumbledore but want to help us?"

"This is much more complex than you might be able to imagine."

"And what does her son have to do with it?"

"Everything. He is the reason why they hunt you; he is the reason why I help you escape."

"I can understand the first, but not the second. What was it that we gave him that it could make you grateful? Why would anything we probably gave him make you grateful? Just because he is her son? Did you – _love_ – her that much?"

"I always loved her."

It was then that Petunia lost all her tension. The way she gazed at him, made it unclear whether she still saw him. A little clumsy, she shuffled over to a dark red armchair by the empty fireplace and sank into the worn off, moth-eaten velvet that had lost its golden embroidery on several patches, just like the wallpaper. He summoned the old chair from the desk at the window, caught it effortless and carried it over to the carpet in front of her, where he placed it and sat down, his wand back in his sleeve and his fingers holding the cap between his legs as he leant onto his thighs.

"And now?"

"Still."

"The boy?"

"Tell me, what would you give for your son? How much – would you sacrifice?", Petunia hesitated a moment.

"Everything.", she aspirated and Severus lowered his head, nodding with his eyes closed.

"Then there is no need for asking me to make you understand."

He raised his head again and looked straight into her eyes that differed so much from her sister's, and she unconsciously wiped a strand of her faintly greased blond hair from her face. In the dim light it seemed to slightly reflect the colours of the room, but he knew the reddish shimmer was not due to the surrounding. It had it in bright summer sunlight too. When Harry had been about five years old, she had tried to dye it dark brown, but even that had shimmered reddish then and knowing she didn't like the fact, had ever amused him, every single time his thoughts brushed the matter.

"You – ", the breath left her so quiet it could hardly be caught as a word.

"I."

"He is – _your_ – son – "

"Yes.", Severus said equally quiet, but with much more confidence.

"But he looks – like – "

"Our father, in ways. Though he's rather as thin as Mum."

"` _Our_ ´?"

"James was my twin-brother.", Petunia's eyes gaped. "I said, it is complicated."

"You said, it is complex.", that cost him a weary smile.

"You are more alike than you wish to admit."

"Probably.", she was back to cold. "Why. Why didn't _you_ take him in."

"Don't ask me for giving you answers you know."

"He would have been in danger.", Petunia nodded, staring into the empty fireplace. "Does he know?"

"I have been unwary lately and he started to assume things, suspect things, but I think the recent events just blew those from his temporary thoughts. The truth died with – well, Albus got to find out about our relation; to be honest, it eventually slipped from my lips; but he is dead as well. Next to me, there is only one person alive to know the full truth. Or rather, almost. After all, it would have taken me ages to tell everything."

"How was it for you? Having him grow up away from you?"

"I have been there to see him grow up."

"Sure.", the solution could almost be heard jumping into a bowl of proven facts in her head and she gave the cap, which he still held between his legs with his elbows on his thighs, a nod. "You – _brought the post_."

"Yes. But describe me the exact opposite of `pathetically easy´ and you know faintly what it was like."

"That still doesn't – "

"There is a big hole, Petunia. Think about it. I saw him once a week, for a minute or two, if even. He sometimes talked to me, more and more later on, but that just doesn't do. I wondered what he was doing apart from what he told me and apart from the extreme conditions I felt. I did intrude Vernon's and your mind to get to find out more about what he had to undergo, but I would have never broken into his. You just don't go reading your son's thoughts and memories, no matter how desperate you are to find out everything."

"Naturally.", she mumbled.

"I had gotten to know what his first word was, but I hadn't been there. I had seen him crawl, but I hadn't seen him learn walking. I had to watch his birthdays or Christmases or Easters clawing myself to the wall outside the windows or between the bushes in hope for a glimpse. He only had a single real one of each until he entered Hogwarts. The rest of those, he had been alone, cuddled up in his dusty locker under your stairs – and I was locked out, not allowed to enter, invisible for him should he get to sneak out – Petunia, I envy you for what you have. But that is life. If we chose a path, we'll have to walk it on for good."

Petunia took a deep breath and shut her eyes for some moments. When they opened again, there was nothing but determination in her change of topic.

"Get us out. Anywhere. Just away from magic. Anywhere. Anywhere they won't find us."

"You learned Spanish in school?"

"Yes."

"Then I know a place for you."

"Vernon doesn't – _I_ don't like Spain."

"I was not talking about Spain. I was talking about Puerto Rico."

"Puerto Rico?"

"Believe me, if there is a place he doesn't expect you at, it is there."

"And you know a place there where we can live? How? Wouldn't that still make us connected – "

"I have a knack of hiding my connections, apart from some weakness I met with during the past months. It however hasn't been enough of a lack to make him notice. The Dark Lord trusts me. He sees no reason anymore to question my deeds. You will meet an Auror there. Or rather, _former_ Auror. He has escaped death one time too often and decided that if it already had to be me to save his life, it was better for him if everyone believed him to remain dead. You can live with him. So no, I cannot let you live away from magic. It would be too dangerous. But he can protect you there. Though only if you want to."

"Any more options?", Petunia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course there would be another place you could go to, but even there lives a friend of mine who fooled the world too much to be seen anywhere near people who might recognise him as the one he is, even if he is under disguise – yet I would rather not risk your welfare; he is not easy to deal with, if one isn't exactly the love of his life. But yes, unfortunately all safe houses I know are full. Outside Hogsmeade exists a nice cave however. Though I hardly reckon you would want to live in a cave filled with rat bones until this war is over."

"No cave, no. I think, Puerto Rico is fine. How much time do you think we have?"

"Have you opened any window or any other exit of this house but the door today?", he gave the fireplace a glance.

"No. And this chimney is cut from the Floo Network. There is an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the site. We are locked in."

"Good. Pack your things and bring them into the kitchen."

Severus raised, quickly drew his wand and gave the door a flick. which jumped open when the barrier was lifted, resulting in a squeal of Hestia who had eavesdropped in vain.

"Pack your things.", Petunia quoted him curtly.

"Where're we going, Mum?"

"Far away."

"Far away _where_?"

"You will see when we are there."

She hurried into the narrow corridor and up the tight staircase; Vernon, who hardly fitted through, followed her. Then Dudley and Hestia went after, not without a last look at Severus who had sat down at the table, eyeing Vernon's half empty plate with aversion. Dedalus raised his wand again when he pushed it aside, put down the cap, reached over the table for Hestia's bowl of dry muesli she hadn't poured yoghurt over yet and tried a spoonful. He then leant back and ate on, ignoring Dedalus' attempt to scare him.

"That is Hestia's.", the elderly man hissed.

"I know. And she is done with it.", Severus replied languidly, his legs crossed up on Dudley's chair.

"You think, you can steal yourself into her parents' house, eat her breakfast and expect me to be friendly with you? After you killed Dumbledore?"

"Really. Why is everyone so resentful? His portrait and I are good friends.", Severus sang, conducting with the empty spoon. "God – this is delicious. I need to find out where she got it from. Some ingredients are too crumbly already so I could identify everything that is in there, I must admit.", he lifted another spoonful and studied it as though it was the most interesting thing in the world before he ate it, knowing it drove Dedalus mad. "A shame, actually, that he at last fell victim to his own mistakes, especially now that he realised them and finally felt real regret. But what can I say, life is unfair. He knew that and still he was tempted by death. I will tell nothing but the truth if I say that he quite frankly asked for it. But nor will I deny that I miss him already, even though he has been a very conceited fellow; dragged many people through the mire for his own welfare, modelling the world to his benefits from below. Want to know the real reason why the Dark Lord feared him?"

"Why?", Dedalus finally lowered his wand, but didn't lose his suspiciousness yet.

"Because,", he swallowed the last bit, put down the bowl and spoon and wiped his mouth, "Albus Dumbledore was as much a saint as he is."

"If you mean this incident with his brother – "

"Oh that is just the tip of the iceberg. You should read Rita Skeeter. Once in her life, that woman got her information from the right source. Don't look at me like that. I haven't told her a thing, nor have I read her crap. I just invoke what I heard from those who did. Bathilda knew enough of the truth, believe me."

"Are you just trying to justify murdering him? Murdering and unarmed old man?"

"With this, I justify only his demise. If you paid attention to what I said, you would not call it murder."

"` _Quite frankly asked for it_ ´, you mean? You say he _asked_ for it?", Dedalus chuckled, the disbelief spurting from his eyes.

"Precisely. Because; which I said as well; he got crushed by his own greed."

"Greed. Dumbledore and greed."

"Oh yes. It infested him, just like the curse he had managed to catch by it. If you already know that much as to say that he was unarmed, then you might also wish to combine this with other knowledge you have of him. Albus Dumbledore wouldn't have needed a wand to escape a dozen Death Eaters. He could have blinded them with a snap of his fingers and jumped over the parapet, flying away. Yes, he could fly on his own, without a wand."

Severus became black fog, rushed across the table and landed in front of the other man, materialising from the vapour while he carried on.

"And I can gladly tell you all of this, because, should you get caught alive on our trip, I will make sure to kill you before you can breathe in one more time. If not, lucky you. I will bring you to Diagon Alley, drop you in a corner and alter your memory in a way no one will ever be able to restore the fact that you helped the Dursleys or Harry escape, because, if I told you to whom I bring them, you would kill yourself anyway. I too know about the unsorted complications between you and him.", Dedalus swallowed and shrunk some inches. "I solely tell you the truth about his death because I need you to come with us. I cannot escort three Muggles alone without giving up my own covers and that would mean the end of our world. If I fail, Harry is as good as dead. And although I will never forgive you having told Albus that Remus had a crush on me since our school days, _my_ aversion towards you is unfortunately not big enough for allowing me to accept such an enormous risk."

"What?", the others had returned, heaving trunks and bags down the incredibly uncomfortable staircase and corridor.

"Now, Dedalus, do you happen to possess something like an empty bag here? Neither of them seems to get the meaning of being ` _on the run_ ´."

"I have – some empty – handbags – in my – trunk. Phew.", Petunia had managed to pull it into the kitchen and pushed it to a corner where she opened it again and rummaged for said things.

"The second one will work, thank you."

He picked up his postman bag so they could get into the small room with one less obstacle and went for the hat. In between him, Petunia and the dining furniture, each of them watched him with interest when he pulled his pouch from beneath his clothes and enlarged it to stuff the hat and bag in it, as well as the uniform he then took off. Petunia, pressing her handbag to her chest, eyed his bare legs with a raised eyebrow.

"What?", Severus frowned as well. "I know, they are quite hairy."

"I didn't say a thing.", she blinked heavily and discounted her husband's stare. "What is so funny?", she pouted at the window when Severus had halted his actions with his arm in the pouch and started laughing.

Now all other eyebrows were high up in the air, the balls below marvelling at the two as they turned bright pink. Severus pulled out a pair of scarlet velvet trousers as well as a fitting long robe with silver clasps and a floor length hooded cloak of the same material and colour, slowly calming down.

"Dun' say I din' say.", he smiled brightly and hung the clothes over a chair so he could dress more easily.

"You can drop it, Snape. No one is interested in your childish assumptions."

"Childish? Who is showing her nostrils to the neighbours that can't see her?", through those, Petunia took a deep breath and looked back at him, trying hard not to make her stare drift at his legs, but seconds later, they were covered and she sighed again. "You might be willing to hide the facts, but she was your sister. No siblings can be contrary enough as to not share even a single thing.", his smile gave place to a sadness that filled so much of his heart and soul. "I should know.", Petunia only threw him a brief nod and another sigh and looked back at the window while he gave the table a clearing wave of his hand and closed the clasps of the robe up to the open buttons of his shirt. "May I?"

Severus stretched out his arm and she gave him the bag, though a little reluctantly. Again all eyes were on him, watching him wordlessly putting an Extension Charm on it and enlarging it to the size of a padding pool so they could get the trunks and other possessions in. When the handbag was back to normal, he closed the zipper and gave it Petunia, whose expression wanted to tell him that she was disgusted by touching something he had had in hands, but lost the game to his very own raised single eyebrow.

There was one more thing he took from his black pouch: an elegant but discreetly decorated red and silver Volto Mask. He temporarily placed it on the table, stowed the pouch away, adjusted his clothes and bound his hair together again.

"What was it?", all eyes zoomed at the boy with confusion. "Did something bite your leg?"

"Interesting that you noticed it.", smirked Severus.

"Isn't hard to miss? I mean, it looks sorta ugly compared to the other."

"Why, thank you!", the moment his sarcasm hit Dudley, he somehow regretted it.

"Just asked.", he mumbled ashamed.

"No harm done. At least less than Fluffy did."

"Fluffy?", Dudley looked up again.

"The three-headed dog that found my leg more delicious than you do."

"Three-headed dog?", the small eyes became much larger when the heavy lids suddenly pushed up his faint brows. "Who'd call a three-headed dog ` _Fluffy_ ´?"

"Hagrid."

Severus sighed, then he threw over the cloak, ignoring the Dursleys' mutual gasps, but gave Petunia a last glance and put on the mask. When he had pushed the hood over his head, he reached into the pockets of the robe and slipped on red Dragon-Hide gloves he had kept in them

"We will have to leave through the garden.", Severus said muffled by the mask and pushed a chair to the buffet next to the sink.

"I am not climbing up there!", Vernon brandished wildly.

"Oh, you will. You are on the run and I am your lead. If I say you climb, you climb. If I say you run, you run like the Devil was after your moustache and if I tell you to dump yourself in a cesspool, you will obey without opposition. Now come on."

He opened the window, swung himself over the dresser and out with ease and waited on the stone-walkway around the wall. As expected, even Dudley was quicker than his father. Unlike him, the boy had lost some weight during the past weeks and knew well to use the fact to his advantage. He even helped his mother out. Dedalus and Hestia were last, pushing Vernon down into the garden with all force they could gather. A hollow bump and he landed on a puny bush, muttering his upset as he heaved himself to his feet and rather inefficiently brushed down cracked pieces of branches of what was now almost flat. Severus pulled his wand.

"Take my hand.", he offered his left hand to Petunia. "Don't worry, this Dragon doesn't bite anymore.", visibly displeased, she nevertheless accepted. "And the others'.", she reached for her son's hand, who took his father's then. "You as well.", murmuring, Vernon grabbed Hestia by her right wrist, eyeing the wand in her left hand. "Dedalus?"

Severus last meant him to hold on to his. Standing in an awkward chain, he made himself invisible, causing the effect to apply on all of them and the lot gazed at the loss of everyone's colour to shades of grey.

"Mind what I said. I cannot guarantee for anything. One of them has killed Phillip Horkery and claimed his glasses. They work similar to Alastor Moody's eye, if you remember what that means. So once we leave the circle, I have no idea what exactly will await us. We might escape unseen, or not even. I didn't want to worry you, but I counted no less than twenty-five patrolling the sight. Utterly stupid, considering that you know even less on Harry's whereabouts than I do. Now, wish us all good luck. Ready?"

He waited for approving murmurs and started running at full speed. Actually prepared, none of them was falling behind. There was a deep humming when they crossed the barrier, miraculously all at once. Then, before he could Disapparate, a loud shriek echoed all around, followed by thundering bangs of flashing curses sizzling through the air. Momentarily blinded, Severus could just let go in time and cast a shield over the Dursleys when a man with odd glasses already came running at them, encircling the group along with two dozen masked black figures.

By that, Hestia had already freed herself from Vernon's clenching fingers and was battling one of the Death Eaters outside the shield. Severus had to push Dedalus aside to be able to launch himself over and her out of the way. A killing curse from behind shortly missed her. Two more were shot back and hit both Death Eaters, the one she had duelled and the one who had attacked her, hard in the chest. Stumbling, she tottered back into the shield in the split second he had opened for the purpose of shoving her inside.

More curses and jinxes crashed onto the shield, making the Dursleys duck in fear, but the shield was strong enough to repel them all. Only a breath later, the air was nothing but green and yells, though they hadn't reckoned with the agility of the former Seeker. Holding another shield in front of him, he turned past flashes, trying to figure out where Dedalus had gone. One of the Death Eaters was pushing up a sleeve, but died just before her fingers could touch the Mark. Nevertheless another had had the same idea in the same second.

Darkness all around. The flashes ceased. An ice cold fear laid itself over the battleground, but he knew the feeling well. A bright shine rushed around, the otter putting the Dementors Voldemort had brought, to flight before they could fully arrive at the scene. Guarding, it swam around the shield that covered the Dursleys and Hestia. Black fog fell from the darkened sky, only feet away. There was another number of green bolts and it was only the two of them. In the corner of his mask's left hole, he could just spot Dedalus' motionless body on the ground, eyes wide open. As gentle as the other's bare feet travelled over the singed grass, he shortly raised his free hand and the lids closed.

Standing out from the conjured darkness, glowing red eyes studied the robes in similar colour, then the Venetian mask that was entirely framed by the hood. In the still, cold air under the dark sky, his breath could be seen blowing from his nostrils. A little distracted, the snake-like eyes flicked onto the otter that had positioned itself between him and the shield.

"Now who might you be, defender of Muggles?", the hissing voice sneered as he flourished his interest with his bony white wand, held by thin fingers that were only differing from it in a slight hue.

"Yer wors' nigh'mare, Tom Riddle.", Voldemort gasped at the name.

"You dare to address me in such a disgusting, disreputable way? Me, the Dark Lord?", he bellowed.

"Oh fergive me, Yer Lor'ship. I fergo', ye claim ter be tha King o' Britain.", Severus chuckled like a madman.

"Hmm. You seem to be believing that you amuse me. In fact, you do.", he took one step closer but was kept in place by a line of fire that erupted from the grass with a simple flick of Severus' wand. "Ah what is this? Trying to keep me at distance?", Voldemort's struggle to put out the fire was giving Severus an utmost satisfied smile behind his mask. "Remarkable. You possess a strong will, my dear defender."

"I'm no' yer ` _dear_ ´, Tommy."

"Now, now, why don't you stop calling me after such a weak pile of uselessness? Where have you picked up that name actually?"

"Ye call 'im weak? Who's tha one who can' pass me flames? An' 'is grave, Riddle, 'is grave. Tha very grave ye defiled fer yer return. Tha very grave ye desecrated fer yer sickenin' rebirth. Tha very grave ye captivated me son at an' took 'is blood. Oh wai' – no – 't was yer ink-sodden diary, 'e stabbed."

" _Your_ – son?", Voldemort laughed. " _YOUR son?_ ", this self-aggrandising laugh had always been a pain in Severus' ears, but he would bear it like he had ever done before. "Harry Potter's father is dead! He died ages ago! I killed him! I! I saw the pitifully lights leave his scared eyes when he was foolish enough to not step aside! I killed him! His reflection came from my wand when Priory Incantatem emerged between the boy's wand and mine! There is proof! There is an _immense_ amount of proof! So, tell me,"

"Harry Potter's father is much more alive than ye migh' 'ave ever though' 'e'd be.", Voldemort's self-loving smile froze and he tried hard to see the eyes, see past the shield of the mind, but failed like he failed at the flames.

"This is ridiculous. Youhave no evidence. Harry Potter's father. Pathetic."

"I _am_ 'is father, believe it or no'."

"What are you then? A ghost?", Voldemort laughed cackling.

" _Ghos's are transparen'_.", Severus sneered. "If ye excuse me now, I wan' ter visi' anuther man ye failed ter kill."

Again there was a bright flash when the otter, accompanied by a doe, stormed at Voldemort and knocked him over. Transforming to fog, Severus rushed to Dedalus' body and flew it over to the shield where he, once inside, seized Hestia's arm. To their virtue, she had held the trembling Petunia, who for her part had held her husband and son in a lousy protecting manner. Without a sound, they were gone, glued to one another by magic, the Patronuses dissolving as they left. None of them heard the furious scream that made the windows in all neighbouring buildings burst.

Bright sunlight on a sandy coast, shortly catching the smell of salt. Ice cold snow and heavy polar wind. A deserted wide landscape, owned by random rocks on dry ground and a starlit sky above. The green sea of a forest. A grey back alley in which a cat proclaimed her chagrin on the sudden change in her surrounding. High flat rocks above a wide meadows. Streams of water running past them from a melting glacier. Bright sunlight once more, then early dawn between green bushes and palm trees. The grassy area overlooking the green, a turquoise sea in a wide semi lunar shaped bay further down the high hillside. But all the beauty of the place was powerless at the moment, as powerless as he was.

Exhausted to an extent that caught him off guard, he sank to the ground and stared up into the cloudless early morning blue. The sun had just risen over the sea. Not letting go of her handbag, Petunia fell to her knees; Vernon and Dudley landed on their fundament. Only Hestia moved. Though panting like the others, she crawled along Severus' side to his outstretched arm.

"No – ", she gasped, hardly able to touch the man whose hand he still held. "No!"

The cry escaped her louder and without actually intending it, she slid down onto Severus' chest, weeping bitterly. He tucked his wand back into his sleeve and, not letting go of Dedalus' hand, he pulled off the glove and laid his right arm around the woman, stroking her head with his now bare fingers.

"Get up, Hestia.", Severus whispered softly, having calmed down a little. "Please.", he pushed her, but she just shook her head and loaded all her weight on him. "I need to get us noticed. I need to – ", a humming from his right drew his attention.

"No need to.", his wand in hand, he supported himself on a thick, crooked walking stick that was decorated with little shells, rattling as he limped over the boundary, a wooden hut now visible to them. "Saw you Apparating. Ruddy hell, you brought a whole lot of people there!", his dark eye travelled over the group; the empty cavity where the other would be, was covered with a black leather patch. "Come on up."

"It would be wonderful if you helped me.", Severus grumbled. "Hestia has decided to become a sandbag and it doesn't happen all too often that I Apparate nine quick times in a row, with a devastated witch, a corpse and three Muggles on the arm."

"All right, all right.", the other growled, gave his wand a flick and a dumbfounded Hestia Jones was levitated to her feet, tears still flowing over her shaken face.

"Thank you.", Severus sighed and pushed himself up.

"Now get in there, before they track you.", their host limped back towards the house, forcing the others to follow him. "Don't want to lose my shaggy hut. Was close anyway. Why didn't you tell me about the hurricanes?"

"Hurricanes?", a bit startled, Severus looked around and noticed that the bushes and trees in the area must indeed have taken a hammering not long ago.

"Yeah. A _gust_ hit us last week. Hell, am I glad that I could strengthen the shield. A jerrycan barely missed that kapok over there.", he shortly pointed his walking stick at a high tree at the left end of the area. "Don't know where it landed. Maybe I'll go searching for it in times. Looked a bit like old José's, if I think about it. He's missing his fishing boat since. Got swallowed by the waves.", a swoosh resonated when Severus stepped in last, Dedalus on his arms. "They flooded the entire bay. Tourists're out. The beach's still filled with dead fish. Hear the seagulls? No? Well, probably the wind changed. Woke up to their breakfast revelry. Poor people down there. They had two storms in the beginning of July. Some say it was three, depends. But everyone's certain there're going to be more. Why does the crappy weather always have to make itself nice, cosy seasons. All right, boy.", he stopped and turned to them, making Hestia finally look up.

"Oh my god – ", she aspirated, her grief forgotten in no time. "Mad-Eye! You – you're – alive – but that's – "

"Impossible? Nope, as you see. Took you quite a time, eh? If it hadn't been for Severus here, I'd have pegged out for sure. Shielded me from the curse in last second, but the blast was heavy enough to knock me off my broom. Incredible fellow. Caught me before I hit the ground and flew back up to help Potter. Saw him become invisible near the boy, far in the distance. The kid sent some nice spells, but managed to be a protective fool when he was close to escape. Then _he_ was there again, wasn't he? Heard him shouting. Was a little frightening, even for me. Now tell me. It's been over a month without a word from you. When did Potter learn to re-aim his spells in mid-shot?", Alastor winked with an askew smirk that was emphasised by his scars. "Right. No answer's an answer. You can wear that mask as long as you want. I don't need my eye to see your face. Did he notice that you directed his hand?"

"No. Hermione also believes I did, but I didn't. Harry, however, thinks that his wand acted on its own, so does the Dark Lord; though what happened there might have just been an unconscious move in a desperate try to survive."

"That – no way – he did that? He really did that himself?"

There was a longer pause between them, in which only their eyes met, connected in a strange way and Severus wished it to end, but somehow couldn't look away, nor stop his own tongue from curling inside his mouth that seemed to shrink, and he pressed his teeth together so hard it almost hurt him when his stomach contracted along with unavoidable tears filling his eyes. He knew that feeling so well, but by the second he noticed there was something different and he tried to figure out what this strangely positive stinging in his chest was. When meaning to confirm it had been Harry alone to have cast a spell so powerful in such a situation, Alastor carried on.

"Granger's in contact with you?"

"I told her to stop it.", Severus gargled, having to take a deep breath to open his throat for managing to speak further. "I have given her a Communication Paper, but she must have misunderstood the meaning of the word `emergency´ in the first place. Nevertheless she found another way to pass me some information without being obvious."

"And what did the clever girl do, may I ask?"

"Packed Phineas."

"No!", Alastor laughed joyful.

"Yes.", Severus confirmed grumpily. "He is a pain in the arse, but he takes his new job serious. Now if you don't mind, Dedalus is getting heavy and I'm strangely starting to sweat under this mask.", Alastor sighed, all his cheer drained instantly.

"You're right. We can't dump him out here. I liked the fellow, I have to admit."

"I thought – "

"What? Oh – that – yeah. Forgave him long ago. Too bad he didn't make it. Always imagined he'd die a happy death, somewhere in a comfy room, suffocating from his pipe with a smile on the face.", Alastor growled, turned and pushed the lousy excuse of a door open. "How did he die?"

"He stood no chance. I had the choice between saving either him or Hestia."

"Put him down there. I never use it.", Alastor waved at a dusty sofa that was sloppily covered with a patchwork blanket. "And of course the gentleman decided for the woman."

"I didn't decide. I _acted_.", Severus corrected him and carefully laid Dedalus' corpse on the sofa, finally being able to take off the cloak and mask. "You cannot imagine the mayhem. I have never been so close to death that constantly ever before. It was a green thunderstorm. First I believed he wanted them for information, but now I know that all he wished was seeing them dead for having given Harry cover.", he wiped back some loose, sweaty strands and rubbed his face dry with his sleeve.

"So he's gone mad at last?"

"Has he ever been sane?"

"Good point."

"You gave up on him.", Hestia murmured quietly.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me right, just like I heard you talking to him. You knew he wouldn't make it and did your best to let it happen as soon – "

"This conversation has got nothing to do with it. I reacted in a split second. Maybe I thought he was more capable, maybe I thought, you had more life to go on that would have been wasted, I don't know. I _reacted_. Live with it."

"Tea?", Alastor nodded to a kettle on the gas cooker. "Or rather a Scotch for the lot?", he chuckled when he examined the Dursleys' faces.

"I'd be fine with a tea, thank you.", sighed Severus and took a look around in the drab, crammed shack. "Something negatively strong. I need to calm down a bit. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Severus stored the gloves, put the mask and cloak down on a single chair and searched his way through a box filled with old records. Meanwhile the Dursleys had at last managed to somehow sit down on another sofa, in the right end of the rectangular dwelling, surrounded by three windows that were covered with dusty jalousies which seemed to have been rescued from a landfill. Hestia took a wiggly chair, acting like a Roman pillar during an earthquake. The dim light fell scarcely through the slits between the almost closed slats. To emphasize the gloom, Alastor closed the door with a wand-wave.

"Beware. There's a lot of crap in it."

"Crap.", Severus snorted. "That's a fine collection, you got there."

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

"Found something interesting?", Alastor limped along. "Earl King, eh? Kidding me? I always thought you'd be more the Hobgoblin type."

"Hobgoblins? Me? Want me to kill you with a turnip?", Severus chuckled and put the disc on the turntable.

"Noooo!", the stretched, amused moan made the Dursleys shiver. "Turn that off."

"Come on. It hasn't even really started. Wait – is that – a live record?", Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. NOLA ninety-three. Better than the original. Caught it on the radio.", he patted his flat hand on the wireless next to the gramophone which were connected to one another with some cables in odd ways. "Arthur'd be blessed. Oh please, Severus. Everything's going down the drain anyway. No need to emphasise it with a song."

"Give the world some irony, if you may,", Severus smirked broadly and leaned with his bottom to the table.

"No.", Alastor murmured on.

"Let me listen to that. I want to know how he's doing it."

"Some great solo in there."

"Definitely. I can hear it coming. And _you_ should turn _that_ one off."

"Sure.", Alastor swung himself over to the cooker and picked up the kettle, killing the noise with a big grin at Severus who had closed his eyes and drummed his hands on his thighs along the rhythm. "Didn't know, you were that musical."

"There are many things you don't know about me."

"Quite probably. I never really figured you out. How could you possibly stand up to him alone and survive it? Did Lucifer own you a favour? Or swallowed a whole cauldronful of Felix Felicis?"

"Oh, neither. In basics, I merely flattened a number of hoodies and let the grey prance behind the fire.", his voice was indifferent while the rest of him melted away with a guitar solo; Alastor couldn't resist a good laugh.

"He knew it was you?"

"Would I be here then?"

"No. We're too good for him."

"Way too."

"A little full of yourself, are you?"

"Just a little. You started."

"Ages before you. Tea's ready."

"I can smell it, now that the noise stopped punching my senses. Give me that stuff or I'll jump off the next cliff."

"That urgent?"

"More than urgent. He'd still be alive if I'd taken them from behind, one after another, even before I got into the house."

"You. And _Russian_ roulette.", he chuckled in. "Leave that to your Queen."

"I was naïve to believe we could be fast enough. But they must have seen me entering. What kind of Muggle postman enters a secured area. Stupid me."

"You're getting old."

"Oh shut up. Thank you.", Severus received the steaming cup and clutched it with both hands, staring into space. "And thinking that I might get the lot out of there invisible, nice and smooth – they put up a Caterwauling Charm in the meadow, in case someone might consider fleeing through a window. No ground-touching, ever again, I swear. But it's too late."

"Douse some tea over it."

"Yes. Probably better.", sighed Severus and took a gulp, instantly calming down – but not fully.

"So what's he doing? Who's he gathering? I heard on the wireless that the Ministry's under Thicknesse?", he had finished serving the other four tea as well.

"Imperiused."

"And Rufus?"

"Dead.", with a horrific scream that made all but Severus wince, the kettle crashed against a shelf with differently filled jars that only didn't break when they hit the floor because their owner; who leaned onto his Foe-Glass now; had put a charm on them.

"Tea?", Severus said hollow and held out the cup.

Alastor only nodded, his face first buried in his arm and reached blindly for it, eventually getting to grab it, and drank it in one go. Then his head fell back against his arm and the cup slipped from his thick fingers, the sound of the breaking china hitting Vernon's ears only. Hestia bit her lips, unsure what to look at and trying not to let it be Alastor's walking stick that stood upright on its own, which would lead her face into Petunia's direction. Petunia on her account, gazed past Severus', over to what she could see of Dedalus' body on the sofa by the door. Dudley studied his thighs with empty eyes. And Alastor – though shaking horribly, hung flaccid over the Foe-Glass and cried into his sleeve.

The record had stopped playing in the middle of the current song. Lonely, the table spun, giving a quiet whirring sound, but the needle was up in the air, unable to touch it. Seemingly without breathing, Severus slowly turned, glided silent across the dusty wooden floor and gently lifted Alastor. Careful not to hurt him, he pulled the eyepatch off and placed it beneath the glass.

Two hands were watched by a watery dark eye as they opened two silver clasps as well as some buttons and searched their way inside for a small black pouch with purple ornamental embroidery. From that, they took a round wooden casket, just big enough for holding something like a tennis ball. Recognising it, the tears stopped flooding the filled and empty cavity. Severus only turned it so the lid would open in front of Alastor, which it did without being touched.

The inside of the casket was lined with mirrors and fixed on a fitting metal stand, a white ball rested peacefully. The flashing blue iris kept still, directed at the mirror wall. His hands trembling, Alastor took what he had believed to be lost. The routine calmed his hands as he stuck it into the second biggest hole in his face. The moment it sat right, the eye spun around, his view with it clearer than ever before.

"What do you see?", with the deep breath Alastor inhaled, his lips were quivering once more and the streams of tears set forth their journey down his scarred cheeks.

"S-Severus – I l-left it – "

"Behind, I know. They took the bait. They commutated it and Umbridge abused it for securing her office.", Alastor let out a quiet growl. "But thanks to Lysander Yaxley I got to find out that a certain trio broke into the Ministry, stole an important artefact, freed some Muggle-Born and retrieved it. I was lucky that Phineas caught it as a hint when Hermione spoke into her bag, searching, while they discussed how to get something to eat. This way I found the forest they had fled to, and eventually the place they had built up their shelter."

"What did she say?"

"` _Well, if any of you'd like to_ share _your opinion on how to possibly get some other food than mushrooms in our limited forest area, I_ would _be grateful_.´"

"Logical thinking.", Alastor chuckled dull.

"It was so plain simple that it was already ingenious. I waited until they were gone, more than an entire day and night. Knowing Harry even more than her, I guessed right. He had buried it under an old tree. Took me a while to clean and reset it. So, how does it feel?"

But all answer he got was his face grabbed by two knobby, firm hands and a thick kiss pressed to his cheeks and forehead before Alastor wrapped his arms around him, the crying returning. Severus put down the casket next to the eyepatch and completed the embrace with a charmed smile, either weariness swept away for the moment.

~~#~~


	49. Chapter 48 - Fencehopping

– Chapter 48 –

 **Fencehopping**

"So?"

"So?"

It was nothing more than a small round room with crème coloured wallpaper, two overstuffed old chairs in the middle, a little round table which was just big enough for carrying a crystal can of clear water and two goblets beside them, and a chandelier above. Both sat leant onto their thighs with their fingers crossed between their spread legs.

"You tell me. I can understand that you didn't want to see anyone after what he did. But what are you actually?"

"Well, first, thanks for your try, and second, what do you think, I am?"

"No problem. I would've done that for anyone."

"Makes me feel a lot better."

"Sure. And I still don't know what you are. Yes, Ginny and Luna said it, but it doesn't convince me. You've discussed as if you were among – _the circle_."

"That's part of the game, isn't it?"

"So you didn't mean the congrats?"

"Not really; I pity him, to be honest. He's got a lot of responsibility there. I mean, nothing he couldn't cope with and I rather like to see him on the throne than Bellatrix. But you know, he's risking his life for saving me from harm. The Unbreakable Vow is nothing to be joking about. That's real danger. And believe me, I know what he feels when I'm in it."

"Yeah. Because he feels what you do.", Neville confirmed his knowledge.

"You see? I got to be grateful."

"And that's the point. You're grateful for that,", he counted on fingers, "You pity him, you grant him his position,"

"What're you going at.", Draco said cold.

"Just what it looks like to me. You might be `the born spy´, but I don't trust you. Who tells me that you don't go running to Snape, telling him everything about the DA and he walks straight to You-Know-Who with it?"

"I want Voldemort away as much as you do.", Neville's eyebrows sped up, but Draco's expression remained the same when Neville straightened for a big gulp of water, not taking his eyes off him however.

"Right, you're either totally crackbrained saying his name, faking terribly or actually on our side. Harry confirmed that you couldn't do Dumbledore. Proves me that you're at least a little human, though you really got a nerve, I must admit.", he sighed deeply. "I'd say, innocent until proven guilty then."

"Thanks.", Draco sat up too.

"Well,", Neville smirked, "I still have my doubts, but since you've become as much a victim as we have, welcome to Dumbledore's Army.", he offered his hand and Draco accepted it.

"You won't regret it."

"We'll see.", Neville gave him a last lazy look and they raised. "One thing – ", he stopped Draco at the door, "Pansy Parkinson's been your girlfriend, hasn't she?"

"Yes, why?"

"She's called Hannah a bitch after you left and said that Hannah knows why, but when I asked her about it, she said she's got no idea. Though I don't believe her."

"Did she?", Draco murmured. "They both, I mean?"

"Yeah. So you know what it's about?", Neville narrowed his brows as well, interpreting Draco's look right.

"Seems, Pansy's had some lessons in Legilimency. I don't think she cracked me, but Hannah can't shield her mind. I don't care whether she's jealous. Hannah clearly knows to cope with verbal assaults. But if Pansy lays a single finger on her, she'll be the second owner of a nose that's gotten familiar with a shoe of mine.", what that did to Neville, wasn't uncaught and he decided to draw a line. "Gotta go now. You might not be, but I'm hungry."

"Whow!", Neville woke up and grabbed him by the arm before Draco could get hold of the handle. "What was that? You're – you're not – a bit unlikely for a To-The-Bone-Slytherin to defend a Hufflepuff, isn't it? So – so you're really on our side?"

" _Didn't you hear the Sorting Hat?_ ", Draco spoke the phrase that had been going around ever since the first evening of term. "It doesn't matter where we're in. We're going to the dogs if we have it that way, more than ever now. He wants us sorted, we disagree. _Part of the game_. And I'd be a total bugger if I didn't defend my girlfriend. You excuse me,"

Probably without really wanting it, Neville let go and Draco took the chance to finally leave the Room of Requirement. As fast as he could, he hurried for the secret entrance to the shortcut behind the tapestry before Neville could get out of the room as well. When he literally walked straight into Ginevra and Luna, Draco had already reached the third floor, heading further for the Great Hall.

Quiet chatting drifted along the tables, everyone careful not to lose points for a single too loud word. Avoiding a look up at the staff table once he had seen what was going on there, he marched straight to the Slytherin table and sat down by the wall, opposite to Vincent and Gregory. In the middle of the staff table, two seats were empty and the woman next to the high chair refused to eat, seemingly trying to figure out who was more delicious to swallow than anything the Elves had made below.

The area of an entire chair was empty to her right, which was why Professor Babbling had to sit with her back turned to the students, at one end of the u-shaped long table. Professor McGonagall had simply relocated the whole arrangement for the sake of her own comfort, and perhaps even security, telling from her left neighbours expression.

Meanwhile Draco and his opposites had gained such neighbours as well. The Greengrass sisters had filled the space everyone had left free, the younger sitting herself so incredibly close to Draco that he slid half a seat to his still free right, though to his luck, unnoticed.

"Where have you been?", Daphne asked and reached for a chicken wing.

"Partying.", Draco grunted and his hand went for some noodles in the other direction.

"Honestly, Daphne.", Astoria moaned. "You can't ask him where he has been. That is a very tactless thing to do, considering that he has closely escaped being raped by our teacher in front his classmates. And you even were there."

"And that now, was tactful of you, of course.", Daphne pouted back.

"Just because you are older than me, it does not give you the right to talk to me like that – or him. Draco has got feelings, like any other, I am sure."

"Any but you. I merely asked him where he was, but you have to explicitly point out that he has nearly been raped by a man."

"Ladies,", Draco huffed, "I am still here."

"Sorry!", the two gasped, appearing to actually have forgotten about it.

"So what is wrong with Pansy?", Daphne started another critical conversation. "She seems to be rather upset.", in fact, her eyes were directed straight past two heads, at Hannah; who only had worried eyes for Draco; and she made deep ruts into the table with her fork, gaining scared glances not only from the sisters.

"Looks like she's practising a new way of agriculture.", Draco chuckled and finally found some satisfaction: in eating – and he was rather glad that the people around him joined into his laugh. "Oh shit.", Pansy had obviously heard and understood, as she had gotten up and now stomped directly towards Draco with the fork in hand, who hastily swallowed down his noodles.

"You!", she hissed. "Mind your filth-licking tongue!"

"It's just noodles, honestly. I'm sure, they're absolutely clean."

"Shut up or – "

"Or what? Are you gonna to do it the Granger-Way? Totally wrong choice for that, I gotta say.", he eyed her fork and picked a knife which he offered her, much to the amusement of their Housemates.

"Dare to give me that and you're a dead man.", Pansy gritted her teeth, but Astoria was on her feet with her wand drawn.

"Easy!"

"Yes? Anything to say, kiddie?"

"I'm only two years younger than you. That would make you as much a kid as you believe me to be."

"Shut your trap, you freak!"

Everyone's head just spun after the wand and fork that flew high through the hall, the fork landing in a roast on the Hufflepuff table, some students ducking away with squeals, but the wand was caught with unexpected ease, even unexpected by the as well standing person who had disarmed the girls non-verbally. For a second, Hannah just eyeballed Astoria's wand with her own still pointed across the tables, but then her consciousness was back and she faced them with reborn anger.

"Twenty points from Slytherin!", she shouted and the hall fell silent at last. "And both of you, detention! Tomorrow morning! Yes, on a Sunday!"

"You can't do that, bitch!", Pansy shrieked.

"And how I can do that, you nutter! I'm Head Girl! Sorry for the cuss,", the last was more meant for the younger students, and definitely not at all for Pansy. "Speak to your Head of House for further details on the detention. And another ten points off for calling me a you-know-what.", Hannah panted and sat down, exhausted as though she had run a marathon.

"Give me back my wand,", Astoria snarled.

"You may request it back from Professor Slughorn later.", Hannah said coldly and ate on, trying not to blush on the applause that broke out in the hall.

"SILENCE!", it had been Alecto Carrow to jump up now, bright red. "EVERYONE! OR I – "

But the threat remained unheard, even though the cheers cut off at once. Disgruntled, she sought for the source of the Silencing Charm, finding it in a highly pleased Minerva McGonagall. That one's triumphant smile was gone instantly as a cry of pain left her. Though temporarily mute, Alecto had cast such a powerful Cruciatus Curse on her that she slid down to the floor between chair and table. But seconds later, that wand was the next to fly, towards the Ravenclaw table, where it was caught by Padma Patil. Raging soundless, Alecto's mouth yelled at her.

When that wasn't enough of the expression, she grabbed her plate including her lunch and threw it as far as she could, splattering food all over the podium and crashing into the head of the Gryffindor table. By that moment, students were already jamming at the gilded doors, everyone trying to be the first to reach the marble stairs outside. Madams Hooch and Sprout had helped their friend up and supported her over to the back door, where the rest of the staff formed a similar crowd, Hagrid having been wise enough to let them pass before he would block the door alone.

Within less than half a minute, the hall was nearly empty, and frustrated to the core, Alecto had lost track of Padma who had disappeared in the masses with her wand.

~~#~~

"Ouch.", was all that Neville could say, having landed hard against something for the second time in two days.

"Are you – okay?", Ginevra coughed.

"Yes.", both others confirmed and sat up, Neville robbing his head. "We're lucky, I s'ppose. That went a little better than what you did with Hermione."

"Ha, ha. Why the hell did that creeper let us through when we can't get back out?"

"Probably because people who possess some manners, normally knock for an answer before they consider breaking in. However, congratulations. You managed to destroy a high security glass."

All three heads rushed up at him, Neville totally shocked. The girls did their best to play it, in case he would look at them. The red velvet had been changed to usual black cotton clothes, but his crossed arms and the malevolent sneer were foreboding.

"I am not as conceited as to be pleased by seeing people at my feet. Get up.", hastily the trio jumped up, Neville staggering a little. "Well, well, well. So you decided to just sneak into my office and try to steal an ancient artefact while I was away.", every hint of a smile of any kind was gone and his dark eyes travelled between the three. "Didn't consider I could be in here when not attending lunch? At least you almost would have gotten that right. But that does not spare you from detention. And don't dare to spit any useless excuses or reasons at me, I am not interested in hearing any of those. Detention, five o'clock, down at Hagrid's."

"Hagrid?", Neville aspirated, spinning when he had pushed himself off a shelf and attempted to go for the door that had lastly opened, seemingly on its own.

"No lesson is a use if the punished end up in pieces of gleaming flesh on the wall. So yes, Hagrid. Call yourselves lucky. Especially since I hadn't allowed you until _now_ to just leave."

He waited for them to be out. Again they winced, when he slammed the door shut. Luna and Ginevra still tried to look as startled as Neville.

"Okay, now I can understand Malfoy.", Neville considered. "He must have _some_ heart. Though in a slightly wrong place.", he sighed. "Any idea why he wasn't at lunch?", the girls shook their heads, honestly. "Alright. And now?"

"Now?", Luna asked.

"Well, _the sword_! We got to figure out another way! A great distraction! We have to make sure he's really gone!"

"I'd say, we forget about that.", Ginevra meant. "He'll put up stronger spells for sure. We could as much `politely knock´, walk back in there and ask him to hand it over."

"Ask – Hagrid – damn!"

"Yes?"

"Hey Luna, you think, they'd have a place for me in a boy's dorm at your House?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's simple, isn't it? Okay, probably not that simple; the window's really high up, far more than Umbridge's office,"

"No."

"What's that, Ginny?"

"No, I said. And I also said, we forget about it.", Ginevra huffed. "No Niffler-Levitation. Even if we got one of them in, there's tons of glittering stuff in there and I don't think the sword just happens to lie openly on the desk then – and it's really heavy, by the way. Know any Niffler able to throw the sword out of the window right at our feet and I'll jilt Harry for you."

"Sword? Jilting? What's that about here?", following a bluish light that turned red and flashed heavily when it stopped in the circle of three, Draco came in sight at the stairs, Hannah by the hand.

"Nothing.", Neville sighed, clearly devastated that Ginevra had eradicated an idea he had thought to be brilliant. "Failed plan. Nothing too serious."

"What a big lie, considering that you missed the greatest party ever for hanging out in front of the Headmaster office,"

"You are aware though that I can hear every word you say?", the door had opened and he leaned lazily in the frame, looking from one to the other with his famous raised eyebrow. "What was that about the party?", the second zoomed up when his eyes met with Draco's.

"Nothing.", that one gargled. "Really.", glad that he only took a deep breath and disappeared back in the office, Draco sighed as well and waved the others downstairs and past the Gargoyle statue to the end of the short bent corridor, where he pushed a tapestry aside that hid an additional staircase which brought them directly to the Grand Tower.

"Party?", Neville chuckled when he realised where they were.

"A little frightening, but great. Hannah and Padma definitely owned themselves a mention in the next edition of _Hogwarts: A History_."

"But we'd have to – go slightly – more underground.", they rushed around at the girl that came panting from downstairs, her twin at her side. "How did you – do that?"

"Did what?", Draco asked Parvati who brandished at him and Hannah, even more out of breath than her sister who still carried two wands.

"Fly–ing.", Parvati coughed.

"Flying?", Ginevra frowned.

"He became – ", Padma went on, "All foggy – and took Hannah – and was gone – "

"You can do that too?", it just spurt from her without thinking; Luna's look was the only not startled: it was a clear warning.

"Too?", Parvati lifted her eyebrows as well.

"Snape.", she decided for the truth. "Oh come on. We've all seen him doing that. After Harry returned from the graveyard. What?", they looked confused. "The Triwizard Tournament? No?"

"Er – no?", Padma meant.

"I've seen him.", Neville confirmed. "Dumbledore just got hold of him, remember?"

"Since when can you remember such?", Parvati had calmed down.

"Hey!", he and Hannah protested at once.

"You might not believe it, but I've indeed grown a memory,", snapped Neville.

"Oh no – ", Padma's eyes widened with horror at one of the wands that was shaking in her tight grip. "I think, she's trying to summon it."

"Let her.", Draco said. "Can't be bad for you."

"What's worse than a death sentence? Maybe you don't know, but I can read lips. She clearly said I'm dead."

"Give her back her wand. Then we'll see."

"Okay."

Padma loosened the grip and the wand sped from her hand, so quick that it crashed hard into the handrail of some stairs that just changed direction that moment and it snapped in two. They all leant over the banister by their landing at the sound. Only held together by the core material, the pieces fell into the depth and landed on the marble staircase with a distant clank.

"Oops,", Padma giggled.

"Well, she can't blame you, can she?", Hannah noticed. "It's like Hogwarts destroyed it, right? Her fault. She accepted to work here."

~~#~~

An unbearable cold crawled around their shelter, strong enough to make it through only a tiny gap at the tent's entrance. In vain, and getting even colder by standing there, she tried to fix it, rain thrashing her ears. It was as cold as the tears on her cheeks and she felt like back in the forest four years ago, surrounded by Dementors. Only this time no one would come. They were alone. Ron had ran away some days earlier and she and Harry practically hadn't said a word to each other ever since.

The big table was crammed with books and parchment, most of the sheets strewn with drawings and writing, all Harry's creations. He had spent the time in silence, with drawing the locket from any angle possible and she had to confess, he had already gotten quite good at it, though it hurt her to see him like that, probably more than Ron's absence troubled her. However, she had no idea how Harry could have possibly taken books from her pouch and then be brazen enough to let them lie around openly.

Wrapping her vest tighter, she paced towards him. Totally devoted to another drawing that kept appearing on the sheets along with symbols Hermione couldn't recall to ever have seen and little lumps that looked like biscuits somehow, he sat there in thoughts, every stroke of the pencil seeming so painful it felt strange to her that he could still hold it. He didn't look up when she joined him from behind, staring at the figure without identity, only recognisable as somewhat human by the thick full beard and the outlines of the face. The man wore a kind of uniform, strangely resembling Stan Shunpike's a little and there was some sort of earring that could have been Bill's, if she thought about it. Curling her lips, she raised her feeble voice.

"Who's that – "

"Someone I once knew.", Harry replied quiet and soft.

"Once?"

"One of the postmen. Back then at the Dursleys'. He moved to another village, Christmas before I received my letter."

"Did you like him?"

"Yes."

"So – you miss him?", she chuckled, out of mere boredom.

"Dunno.", Harry sighed and put down the pencil. "I keep thinking about the things he told me."

"And what did he tell you?"

"For example, that any grudge will fall back heavy on the bearer one day. Or that a better way might be to infest a system like a virus and crush it when it is most vulnerable, instead of starting an open rebellion."

"A postman said that to you. When you were ten.", Hermione snorted.

"Oh I met him again, some years later. Asked him for advice. Under false pretences of course."

"He seems to be a wise man – "

"Probably, yes. But it doesn't matter. Not now. Doesn't bring us the sword or another Horcrux – yet. Sure, it's exactly what we're doing, crushing Tom Riddle from behind, but we're stuck and I'm sick of denying it."

"Would you however deny having stolen my books?", she frowned, scanning the table.

"Oh, yes, I think I would. Because – "

"They're – they're not – "

"They're mine.", said Harry stiffly and she became more than just slightly alarmed. "I knew you'd be upset to know that I've been grooming my own library in Hagrid's pouch for about a month,"

" _What?_ ", she realised that some of the books weren't written in English.

"Don't worry, it was no trap to reveal our position."

"Are you just trying to tell me that someone's been placing books outside our shields?"

"Yes, I believe that was what I was just meaning to confess. Pretty exactly at the rim of our shields. Honestly, it feels really good to know we're not alone out here. Someone's keeping an eye on us. And I can assure you it is no foe."

"How can you be sure!", Hermione panicked with every passing second.

"I know. Trust me, I know just as much as I know that I have no idea how to destroy that locket. Or why our friend here is so eager to introduce me to all novels written by – "

"Dostoyevsky – ", she breathed, staring at a Russian dictionary. "And your so called `friend´ wants you to learn Russian too?"

"I guess, in their opinion, the translations aren't right.", Harry shrugged. "And maybe also to keep me busy otherwise, should _whatever_ I'm brooding over make my brain explode."

"Tz. Wait – Meadhbh Dunnahar – why's her name on here too?", her eyes were back on his notes.

"As much as that potion helped people ever since, as much pain it caused. I won't refrain from using it though. Not until Riddle's finished. But then, I'll never have a sip of that crap ever again."

"I think, I can agree on that. Still that doesn't justify accepting foreign books from a complete stranger."

"Unless you're familiar with the manager of Flourish and Blotts, any book you ever bought for your magical education was accepted from a complete stranger,"

"Harry!", she finally managed to produce a louder word. "That is completely off the point!"

"Technically, it's not, and you know that."

"But you can't tell me,", she huffed quiet again, "That you learned a whole new language within a month. That's just imp- I mean – it's – it's – imposs- "

"Don't worry, my skills just come down to fluent reading. I'm far from understanding the words. Yet it helps deciphering everything faster. I was sceptical about the method first, but – "

"And why Russian?"

"How should _I_ know?", he nearly barked. "It might happen to appear being useful, whatever."

"Harry!"

"What. You know Ron can't really keep secrets. Yes, he told me about that grammatical masterpiece of yours."

"Has he.", Hermione huffed. "It may interest you, that I only quoted someone there."

"Thought so. After all he told me everything from that evening and I _can_ put one and one together, regardless of what some may believe. But to be honest, I think he too quoted someone."

"And who would that be?"

"Put one and one together in that grammar drama."

Hermione though only shook her head, turned away and went for her bed, where she took off her shoes and crawled under the blanket, in hope to get warmer. That he accepted gifts from a stranger in their situ- but that meant – and – knowing where they were – and the sort of books – there was only one – that upset her so much in a blink, she was surprised her entire body hadn't burst into hot flames instantly. However, something distracted her: she could hear him following her, and indeed, he appeared by one of the curtains and then sat down on the edge of the bed, visibly brooding over something.

"What's it, Harry?", she sat up and turned in the bedding to look at him, shocked now to lastly spot how much his hair had grown since they had left Grimmauld Place.

"I – I wondered – why doesn't it fade?"

"Why what doesn't fade?"

"The cloak.", she just then saw that a heap of shimmering fabric laid on his thighs and he thoughtfully held some of it in hands as well. "I mean, everyone said that Invisibility Cloaks fade after some years, if the creator died or the Demiguise hair sheds. But this one – it already belonged to – "

"What if the creator's still alive?"

"Yeah – maybe – but I mean, sure the Potters were rich and therefore could maybe have afforded a cloak of high quality – but – but there's more to it – I have a feeling – "

Even though she knew that Harry was far from being a Legilimens, she did her best to shield her mind. If he riddled out what exactly that cloak was and who had actually given it to him –

"The pencil you're drawing with – ", she decided for a different topic in addition, "How many of those have you got and how the heck did I miss – ?"

"Oh, just that one."

"Er – but I've seen you sharpening, many times – it doesn't – "

"It's a spell. I can sharpen it as often as I like to. It'll grow at the end."

"And if you sharpen the other end?", Hermione chuckled.

"I guess, the opposite end would still grow, with the tip. Never tried."

"Where've you got it from?"

"Birthday."

"From whom?", Harry only shrugged. "You don't know?"

"A friend."

"You don't know who gave it to you, but you know it was a friend?", a little curious, she sat up straighter, not noticing that she had stopped trembling from the cold. "The – same _friend_?", he shrugged again.

"It didn't kill me so far, did it?"

"No.", Hermione sighed, gazing at the end of the bed.

"And Trelawney said nothing about having to be caustious with pencils."

"Trelawney. Tz."

"Yeah. Even Ron's a better seer. I – I think it was him."

"Him? Ron?"

"No. The postman."

"Harry – "

"He's a wizard."

"A wizard. Delivering Muggle post.", that indeed made her curious and she was really not sure anymore what to think about the whole.

"Kept an eye on me when I was little.", he said, staring at her bedside table. "So – "

"Like Mrs Figg – "

"Something like that, yes."

"And you met him again?", Harry nodded. "And there he gave you the pencil?"

"Would I've said then that it was an anonymous present I received when I was alone?", he gnarled.

"No. But you didn't say that precisely. How can you know it was him?"

"I – have a feeling, that's all."

"You seem to have a load of feelings about many unproven things lately,"

He didn't seem to have caught the mumbling. There was a strange glistening in his eyes, barely catchable, but she knew that kind of glistening and it downright shocked her to see it, even more with his greasy hair reaching his chin: it was the same she could have seen in Severus' eyes, any time he had talked about Harry with her.

"What are you thinking about?", she gargled.

"Why?"

" _Why?_ ", Hermione moaned. "I – I just want to know what's on your mind, that's all!"

"If I started to tell you, we'd be very old before I finished."

"Ha, ha. You think he knows?"

"Hmm?", at last, Harry looked at her.

"That we're after his soul?", Harry hesitated.

"No idea – ", he sighed at her pillow, blinking and again she could see some resemblance in his face. "I mean, I kept wondering, but actually, I'd be really glad if he didn't notice until we've found and destroyed the second last bit. But I also wonder why he's so fixated on wands."

"Wands?"

"When he tortured Olivander because he had failed to get it right – you know, about the cores of our wands being the reason,"

"But he hasn't been fixated on wands ever since – "

"He has."

"Harry! You – you didn't – "

"Well, as I keep telling you,", he murmured into her angry outburst, "It's not easy closing your mind when you're asleep. Because, considering the nature of a human being, it is then that it turns off consciousness for coming to terms with all that happened on the passed day.", the way he had constructed the sentence, made her lips curl. "Maybe I can one day before I fall asleep, but it's out of my control once I reached that state. Why doesn't that get into your head? I just can't, okay? Just as much as Riddle can't stop thinking about wands.", he huffed to the tarpaulin opposite to him.

"Why'd you call him like that?"

"Because Tom Riddle's his real name.", Harry grunted.

"I know, but – "

"Dunno. Maybe because – maybe I hope there's – still enough human inside him that he'd – well, make a terrible mistake one day, which then will be his ruin.", Hermione couldn't stop her insides from crumpling on the awareness that there was a lot more of Severus in him than she preferred, and she didn't even know why – maybe she feared, he would end up as alone as him. "Because, and that's also what – the postman said to me – all humans are flawed in some ways. Especially tyrants. And they seek so long for their victims' flaws to be able to use those against them, that they forget about their own flaws."

"So – you mean, we'll beat him at his own game – "

"Well, isn't that what we already do? He thought he'd be invincible by splitting his soul, but the truth is – "

"He made himself more vulnerable – "

"Yes.", Harry said staid. "And I hope, as I said, that he won't notice. That would mean, there's not much human left in him. But if there is, and he will of course notice then, he'll hopefully make another mistake that'd be even more fatal."

"Harry – "

"Yes, I know that sounds a little cruel, considered that there'd still be some human side to him, but actually, I can understand now what Dumbledore meant. Killing can never be satisfying, and that is why, I think, Riddle doesn't stop. He thinks, it will lead to satisfaction, but it doesn't. The grandest pleasure for a warrior is perhaps if he finds his enemy shattered by their own mistakes, their ideology backfiring on them. Dodge stated in his tribute to Dumbledore that he'd lived and fought to the end, for a greater good."

"But – "

"I think, I'll just do the same. An ant that cuts string after string from that spider's web, unnoticed, just one in a while, until the web doesn't hold the spider anymore. That is how he got control over the Ministry, you see. I _infest his system like a virus and crush it when it is most vulnerable_. When he realises that he should have paid attention, it will be too late. We're nothing but chess players, and he will lose the game, because he was too drunk in his will to win as fast as possible. Yes, I will beat him at his own game. And his carelessness, that will be Tom Riddle's end. He won't die by my hand, but his own. _Neither can live while the other survives_ , and I won't give him or any of his followers the satisfaction of myself becoming a killer. There are others who can do that better anyway. But all I actually hope for is that he'll fully understand what he'd done before he passes. Some remorse wouldn't be bad for him, I think."

That seemed to be his last words, as he fell silent, staring straight forward, but with a kind of expression she had never seen on anyone: he looked like he could stand up now, walk out, Disapparate exactly to where Voldemort was even though she had no idea whether he knew where he was, and confront him. It scared her.

"Are you done?", Hermione moaned.

"No.", he said impassively and raised, turning to go. "Happy Hallowe'en."

"Ha- what?", she gasped. "It's – how – "

"How I know?"

"Yes – I mean, I've lost track of the date ages ago – "

"You don't have a calendar?", Harry continued emotionless, his back on her.

"No – do you?"

"No."

"But how – you're just guessing, right?"

"No.", he repeated stiff and left her alone.

~~#~~

Little white fairies were swaying in the soft breeze, dancing down to the ground. Winter was finally coming, late this year. It were the last days of November. Pairs and pairs of eyes on him, he stood by the window and watched the snow fall. No light on, no fire burning. The cold from outside crawled through the cracks around the ancient glass, slowly beginning to fill the drab room that seemed only black, greyish white and other shades of grey by the scarce light coming in. Heavy dark clouds veiled the morning sun and left the creation of colours no freedom. Only hints of such still existed, at a closer look. His pale face mirrored in the cold glass, but there was indeed some colour, standing out from everything else.

A lone, golden ring. In his hands, smoothly knitted, cosy purple wool, carrying a number of silvery white stars. A silent tear ran down his cheek as he lifted it to his mouth and nose. Not the slightest hint left. Not even a year and nothing was left of her. At least not in that piece. Trying not to break further into tears, he lowered his hands, took a deep breath and bound the warming scarf around his neck, the ends hanging down from the knot, equal in length. He could barely catch the sound of something fluttering.

"Severus?", a soft, quiet voice called him from behind. "There is – writing – on this parchment – "

All the sadness swept away in the span of a wink, he rushed around and stormed over to the desk, halting in front of it and reached over, bronze eyes studying his moves with calm interest. Quickly written words, probably done in a rare moment of loneliness – the writing was blurred. With a frustrated snort he put on his reading glasses, but still it was blurred, at points, and he knew she was crying.

 _No sign of him. Still. But Harry's taking our food in quite rough hands now. Doesn't levitate those animals in and stun them anymore, but spares me the work to kill them by slashing their throats with your spell! I begin to believe, it's his way to deal with his anger. And I thought he'd never kill. He said that himself, but he is indeed killing animals, if though for survival reasons. It's worse when he wears the locket of course. I could almost see satisfaction there. So horrible to watch, considering that what he told me some weeks ago. And it's gross, somehow. But he's better at cooking than me. I confess it doesn't take much for that, but I'm not certain whether I want the thought that the reason might be another._

 _And last night, he suddenly sat there with some fresh herbs and some vegetables. He refused to tell me how he got them, but it doesn't need a lot of brains to know he snuck out of the shield and broke into the glass house I saw as we passed a little village the other day. Found the flask with Essence of Dittany a little emptier when I scanned my bag because it hadn't laid where I'd left it. Looks to me just like he smashed in a window and tried to heal the wounds while I was still asleep, so as to not leave a mark of magic at the site. I also found a cloth with blood under his bed. Idiot. I can understand that he misses some quality meal, but he's just getting us in danger with that!_

 _What about you?_

With a breath gliding over his ajar lips, the sheet slipped from his hands. Devastated even more than before, he stared at the high old chair on the other side of the desk, a chair that was supposed to be his, but felt like torture every time he had to sit in it.

"Severus?", the portrait of the old man repeated.

Composing himself, he adjusted the paper on the desk, inked a quill and wrote. The moment the ink touched the sheet, Hermione's writing disappeared.

 _Don't worry. I will find him. Try to be safe. Make sure to not stay in one place longer than two days. Snatchers are still scanning random forests and villages. If possible, let Phineas know wherever you are. And don't bother Harry. Just see that he doesn't wear the locket all too often. Good luck, my precious. Take care. Both of you._

He stuck back the quill.

 _Thank you, love_.

For some moments, he just stared at the words. Then he rummaged for his pouch, stored the sheet inside and took out a red and silver object.

"Severus!", Dumbledore got slightly angry. "What is going on? Talk to me!"

But Severus wouldn't. Thinking, he just studied the Venetian mask, ignoring the eyes that were focused on him. Then there was knocking. He made mask and pouch vanish in no time.

"Who is there?"

"It's me, Sir!", the girl spoke through the door.

"Come in.", as quick as ever, Ginevra scurried inside and closed the door behind. "What is it?"

"They're – mad.", she sighed.

"Mad?", Severus murmured.

"Aberforth – and Professor McGonagall. They want to build a tunnel."

"What?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't bother me as much if they weren't planning to build it between the Hog's Head and the Room of Requirement. So we're not depending on secret servings from the kitchen. Is it – even possible?"

"No.", Severus considered. "That is insane. The room is on the seventh floor. You would have to dig through at least half of the castle and all the way to Hogsmeade, let alone the magic around the room itself. But I know a room that could work, if you really wish to please yourselves with owning any tunnel. Though you should be careful. Utterly careful. This could even cost some lives, if the tunnel should collapse."

"I know. But it would mean a way out, in case we would have to – flee. Or likely, a way in."

"I do understand Minerva's way of thinking. Give me a second. Albus? Is there an old map of Hogwarts somewhere? One that shows where the ancient tunnels and wings were?"

"I believe, there is. Let me think.", he leant onto his hand. "I had one. Ages ago. Borrowed it from the Restricted Section in my fifth year. But where? Where is it?", Dumbledore mumbled. "I am not sure, whether it is here. Maybe I just left it with my old books – "

But Severus had already drawn his wand. A heavy rattling came from behind a shelf, shaking some dust off books that hadn't been opened in years.

"Ah! Yes! Of course! Behind ` _Enchantment in Baking_ ´, if I remember it right."

Severus paced over to the shelf and trailed his fingers across the dusty saddles. When he found said book, he tilted it out and – the shelf got stuck. Too many heavy piles were stationed on the floor in front. A snort escaped him and he tried to summon again, but the box the map was in, was obviously too big.

"Forgive me my mess."

"It's my fault as well. I've had this – office – for three m-onths n-ow.", he groaned, trying to pull the shelf open manually. "Could have cleaned up, couldn't I.", a chuckle and the shelf moved about two inches. "Oh come on. How big is this box?", _clank_. "Wonderful. What was that?", Severus peeked inside.

"Ah that might have been the candlestick.", Dumbledore scratched his temple.

"Why do you – I don't even _want_ to know.", huffed Severus and pushed a little more.

Finally. As sordid as the books in the door, he held an old wooden box in hand, which he then carried over to the desk. He gave it a blow, not caring about the chair that received the dust that hadn't flown off by summoning it. Inside, there were many layers of very old parchment. Severus wanted to pick one, but pulled them all with it. It was a huge map – and he knew that this in the hands of the Marauders would have saved them at least a year of work.

"Very well. Then not."

He let it sink back down and tipped his wand at it. No reaction. Glad about the fact, he tipped the thick pile with his wand again, then with his finger. An identical folded massive parchment soared up and he gave his wand a flick before he caught the exact copy of the map. He checked random layers, then walked off the podium and handed it to Ginevra.

"Wow. That'll be a lot of work."

"Tell them that you stole it from Filch's. Make a little chaos and some fake distraction, if necessary."

"Alright."

"The room I was talking about, is opposite to my old office, not far down the corridor.", he hastily searched for it on a bottom layer and showed it to her. "A deserted classroom. The wall gave in and they were too lazy to fix it. My mother once told me about it, but I never cared about checking it myself. You could use it as a starting point. If you go along this way here, you might be able to connect to that old tunnel there. But I am not sure how much of it is buried."

"Great. It's a start. Though it doesn't make it easer not to starve when hiding from detention, but at least we can order other stuff from outside that's not allowed via mail."

"If you should succeed."

"Yes."

"Was that all?", Ginevra hesitated.

"What's – what's he doing here?", she frowned over to the big cat on the desk and he briefly threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Sitting, as it seems."

"Funny.", snorted Ginevra. "Isn't he supposed to be at The Burrow? I mean, that's where Hermione left him – and I too. Didn't need the additional trouble of saving Arnold from him every other minute."

"I have no idea.", Severus sighed. "When I got up this morning, he was sitting on my bed."

"Wait – you mean, he came all the way here? From Devon? And past all the enchantments around the grounds as well as your locked door?"

"As I said,"

"You don't know. But you look horrified, Sir.", she moaned. "Is everything fine?"

Ginevra brushed a bundle of her ginger bushes behind her ear, the light from the Pensieve in the corner cabinet Severus had just used minutes ago, giving it a bluish shine. The news of the purpose must have had come so fast that she hadn't had the time to straighten the mane. Something somewhere in the back of Severus' head clicked. Hastily, he took out his pouch again and stuck his arm deep in. There. He pulled it back, holding a simple brush in hand.

"Sir?", Ginevra blinked and frowned at the object.

Like a puzzle setting itself together, the solution developed before his eyes. The brush still carried some hair. Quite unfortunate for someone who had hardly any time, but way better than a masked stranger, if it worked out the way he hoped.

"I'll be gone for a month."

"What?"

"Well, naturally, I won't. I will be in here. Make sure Draco spreads the news among – ah – the right people. _I will not be present_."

"So you need some privacy?"

"Yes. Good luck out there, you voles.", he gave her a worried smirk.

"Thanks. To you as well, Sir – with whatever you're – er – planning – and – with Crookshanks – "

"Thank you. Try to survive. It would be a shame if Harry lost you to a tunnel.", she waited some seconds, then nodded, turned and left him alone with his plan, several former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts giving him confused gazes.

~~#~~


	50. Chapter 49 - Route 191519

– Chapter 49 –

 **Route 191519**

White-golden light in a white-golden field. The moist grass shone sparkling in the rising sun under the old gnarled tree, but it didn't reach him in his dark cavern inside the fellow. Embracing his knees, he stared at the wood. His spine and head were still aching from the encounter with the wall, but he did his best to ignore that. Thoughts were spinning wildly in his mind, inside the again intact skull, making it hard to shut away the pain. Then there was this feeling. No sound, but a feeling. And eventually a sound. The sound of quiet feet moving through the short grass, dividing the gold, crushing it cautiously. The light was gone. Blocked by the person standing in front of the narrow hole.

"Incredible, that you still fit through that gap.", she said so soft, her whisper could have been mistaken for the breeze outside. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.", he only gave her a stiff nod in his dark hiding place. "Have you packed everything?", her voice became a little louder.

"I packed weeks ago."

"Good. Your Mum said, we'd be leaving in ten minutes. You'd better get your stuff."

"I've go' me stuff."

"Where?"

"In 'ere.", he reached between the shirt and jumper of the uniform he already wore and pulled a little black pouch with purple embroidery.

"Er – "

"Undetectable Extension Charm."

"Really? Can you teach me?", only another curt nod accompanied by a grunt. "Oh please, Sev.", she moaned pleadingly. "You know I didn't mean to do that."

"'T's go' nuthin' ter do wit ye. I merely wanted ter be in 'ere one las' time."

"Last – ?"

"'Aven' ye looked at it? I dun' think it'll still stand when we return."

"Yeah. It looks dreadful. Like you. Are you sure, you're alright? You know, I always wondered whether this tree resonates with your emotions."

"Why would it do tha'."

"I might – ", she knelt down with her big cat still on her arms, "Suck at anything that's got to do with mind intruding, but I've known you long enough to see what you really feel, even if you hide it to your best. I love you, Severus."

He looked up, but still not at her. Not even when she giggled at the swishing that came from above. The leaves that had hung down slackly, were now standing straight as though it was a wonderful early summer day.

"Got you.", Lily smiled, not unseen, leaned forward and kissed him, the cat apparently not minding being trapped in between.

"An' I love ye even more."

"Come on. Get out of here, or we'll miss the train.", Severus sighed.

"I see no sense in doin' 'is. I mean, we Apparate ter London fer takin' tha train? Couldn' we jus' Apparate ter Hogsmeade already?"

"It'll be the last two times we'll be on that train. I want to enjoy them. But I can't, if you're not with me."

Her sad voice echoed in his ears, mixing with those of many others. Others that filled the misty air, resounding uncanny over distance that had no measure. Blood red and grey hazes passed his eyes. As though someone had thrown a ball of wool into steaming hot water, a knot of unknown origin filled his insides. But it wasn't as unpleasant as he thought it would become any second. A pair of dark, shiny eyes drilled into his own. It was a young girl, he was sure of, came from the past. That was what she would have looked like, he knew. But he had killed her. That monster had killed her along with her mother.

The thin fingers were wrapped around the handle of the silver mirror, being a peacock. The only thing he still had not the slightest clue of what kind of connection that was supposed to have. He had brooded over it, but it was unclear to him, even after years. And there was her locket. Lily's locket. Dangling down, swaying gently on its silver chain, though barely reflecting anything but the vague shades of colour in the near.

Bright sunlight from above. All became star-like glistening. The locket fell. Just slow, as though time had changed its course. Then it hit the non-existing ground with a loud ringing. Not again, he thought, before his sudden consciousness made his head rush up.

Everything was a gloomy blur. Some flames before him, burning his tired eyes immediately. Soot blackened the otherwise shiny copper cauldron. Lacewings. Where were they? _Where?_ The black emergency alarm clock was still ringing, thronging him with its loud sound. Every portrait around was wide awake, but not he. His neck hurt, his spine hurt, his shoulders and now even his ears. In addition, there was a horrible taste in his mouth, the specs hung askew on his nose and the eyes behind them couldn't see a thing but the flames and the shade of soot on the underside of the cauldron. Irate, he grabbed the clock and and worked the usual trick on it: a meeting with the floor.

"Honestly! Could you – ", moaned Dilys Derwent, but he solely fobbed her off with a grunt. "Fine, then not."

He finally found his wand between some trash and a number of knives. Giving it a lightening flick, he rubbed his eyes and searched for the stewed flies. Incredibly calm at the edge of the table, Crookshanks mewed quietly, nodding with his head towards a bowl. With a sigh of gratitude, he took the pasty mass, added a last rest to the cauldron and stirred the pulp three times counter-clockwise. Yawning, he filled some of the potion in a flask. Accompanied by another yawn, he picked up the brush that used to be a paper long ago, pulled a hair and slipped it into the crystal vessel. He hated himself for not having put his experimental fingers on that one yet. Though he gave the bits in the flask a finishing wave, hung it into a stand and deadened the fire.

Severus stretched like a cat, his mouth wide open with a noisy yawn again and slid back in the high chair, eyed by the Half-Kneazle. He lazily took off the glasses and placed them in the middle of his mess. _Crack_. Not having expected it in the slightest, he didn't even notice that he had lifted about three inches from the chair, the light on his wand that laid on the desk, quivering.

"Cor blimey, Dobby!", he groaned at the Elf that had Apparated by his side, his big eyes shimmering spookily in the wand-light.

"Good morning, Sir! Dobby is sorry, if he should have scared the Professor,"

"You didn't _scare_ me. More likely almost _killed_ me.", Severus grumbled.

"Then Dobby feels sorry as well, Sir.", the little one smiled embarrassed. "But Dobby had to come. Dobby had to say Merry Christmas, Sir."

"Oh yes. There was something.", Severus leant forward onto the desktop and ran his fingers through his greasy hair, resting his massive full beard in his palms afterwards. "Thank you, Dobby. Merry Christmas as well."

"Dobby has got presents for the Sir!", he beamed and Severus raised his head with interest, looking at him at last, still blinking heavily though.

Dobby wore a red woollen cap with white bobbles all over. Obviously Luna's present to him. In his bony hands, he held the strings of a baggy sack.

"Dobby has found them in front of the Sir's door and spent hours sorting them out. There was some horrible stuff among it, but also nice things. Dobby hopes that the Sir isn't angry with Dobby that he got rid of the – erm – anti-presents."

"Not at all, thank you.", sighed Severus and gladly received the sack, shrinking it by will while dropping it in his lap, before he rummaged for his pouch and put it in. "I will have a look at it later. There is something very important I need to do first."

"Not a problem, Sir.", Dobby grinned.

"But I have something for you as well.", he reached in deeper and pulled out a soft, green parcel.

"For me, Sir?", like always when getting a present, Dobby's eyes became teary.

"Of course. You have been a wonderful friend."

"F-friend?", the Elf aspirated, a little gargling.

"Yes.", Severus smiled softly. "I consider you as a friend."

"Thank you!"

Before he could prepare, Dobby had hopped onto his lap and flung his thin arms around Severus' neck. Unable to help, he simply completed the embrace and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Dobby's disproportional. It was odd, holding something that bony, but it actually felt good to hold – something. Draco wasn't enough, and he hadn't seen him once in two weeks. He needed – he needed _her_. Or probably even more, a single look at Harry – getting visible proof that he was alright. His troubled emotions were just not what could cheer anybody up. Unable to hold it, he started crying.

Completely shocked, Dobby did what felt most wrong to Severus: he let go. Even worse, he slipped out of his arms and jumped to the floor. Not willing to look into those big green eyes, he buried his face in his right hand, leaning onto the side rest.

"Dobby didn't mean to make the Sir feel sad."

"It's got nothing to do with you.", he took a good breath and moved to only hide his open mouth now, staring into blurred, dark space. "It's just – my life.", Severus chuckled hollow into his hand. "One should think, I'd gotten used to it by now."

His head glided through the hand until his neck rested in the palm and his look was directed on the window to his left, where dawn was crawling around the horizon. A flapping sound. He reached down into his pouch once more and pulled out the paper with a snort. As relieving it was to see her handwriting, the purport panicked him.

 _We've been to Godric's Hollow. Bathilda Bagshot is dead. You-Know-Who almost had us. Harry got bitten by Nagini and is still sleeping with fever, but I think the anti-serum you gave me works. Used Dittany as well. Had some trouble with the locket, but fixed that. Unfortunately I cracked Harry's wand. It's barely held together by the Phoenix feather. Ron's still not back. Otherwise we're fine. Thought, you should know. I love you – and Merry Christmas.._

Sighing deeply he rummaged for a pencil and wrote back.

 _Thank you for letting me know. Merry Christmas, my precious. Take care._

"If you excuse me, Dobby, I have work to do. Would you keep an eye on the door, please?"

"Of course, Sir! Anything for you!", the Elf's eyes glistened and he held his parcel to his heart, then was gone with a loud _crack_.

Leaving his things on the desk and with the paper and pencil still in hand, he grabbed the crystal flask and wand which still cast its light, jumped from the chair and rushed upstairs, past the huge telescope and down the trapdoor and spiral stairs into the private chambers. There he undressed completely, glad about Hermione's occasional forgetfulness. So he summoned a whole set of spare clothes of hers and laid them onto the bed next to his. Then he stored his own as well as paper and pencil and unstoppered the flask.

"Slàinte.", he mumbled to himself and drank it all at once.

~~#~~

"An' tha's sure?"

"Quite. I mean, according to the map, we should only have about ten feet left."

Dust all around, only the lights of wands on, they stood in the narrow space, dirty from the topmost hair to the bottommost lint of their clothes. The cold crawled up their legs and sleeves, but they were drunk with enthusiasm.

"Give me tha' fer a secon'.", Seamus held out his hand and Padma passed the dirty map past Ginevra, who just gratefully received a bottle from Neville and drank some of the soothing warm milk. "Gin?"

"Hmm?", she frowned and lowered the bottle, swallowing.

"Are ya absolutely sure ya've done tha' righ'?"

"I could give it a try.", she licked her lips, unwilling to spread the dust on her face and hands even more. "Expecto Patronum.", Ginevra whispered and the horse galloped past Seamus, straight through the soil.

"Yeah. Tha's good. Le's 'ope, 'e answers.", right then, a glowing goat came back.

"You're blowing up my cellar chimney if you're going this way, but well, I never used it anyway. Get it down for good.", the goat said with Aberforth's voice and vanished.

"Right.", Seamus gave the crystal in his hand a lively kiss. "Tha's me las'."

"Yeah. May it bring us some friends.", Neville grinned when Seamus stuck it into the alcove and they backed away behind the shield he had conjured, holding their hands on their ears. "Ready?"

"Never more.", Seamus grinned and shot a spark at it.

~~#~~

Even though it was Christmas and early in the morning, people had trouble getting through the gilded doors like at every meal ever since punctuality had been made a law.

"It's not like they're getting it, right?", Ginevra chuckled, not having cared about straightening her hair after the necessary shower. "Half a year and no one's been sent to the Dementors for being late for breakfast."

"Wasn't it you who said we should be careful?", noted Parvati.

"Shut up, okay? Hang on – why are _you_ still here?"

"Er – I – ", Draco began but was slightly distracted by the look he got from Neville.

"Didn't you say you'd be spending Christmas with your parents?"

"No idea – change of plan, I guess."

"What a bad liar you are.", Ginevra huffed.

"Okay, okay. Got me.", he snorted, glancing impatiently over the heads by stretching his neck up. "Dad's been hell. Mum chained him to an armchair when he didn't stop drinking. No idea where he's getting the stuff from, but she suspects Kreacher."

"Isn't he supposed to be Harry's now?"

"Should be, yeah. But I guess he's still partly the Family-Elf, if you know what I mean. He can serve more masters as long as it doesn't come within a ban one of them has spoken. Just because he sent him to work at Hogwarts, it doesn't mean Kreacher has to stay here. Probably said it wrongly. I got to question the crawler on occasion. How's the _Homework_?", he threw her one glance in between, but returned to trying to figure out why everyone blocked the door.

"We're through."

"No.", Draco chuckled, eyeballing her in disbelief.

"Yeah. Let's hope, we did it all correctly. Wouldn't be good if we get buried with additional work."

"You really did it?"

"They did.", Parvati said.

"Ingenious – oh come on – what the devil is going on there? Isn't it supposed to be Christmas?"

"Please get back out!", McGonagall's voice partly answered his question, though she was nowhere to be seen. "There is nothing of your business happening! Oh goodness Poppy – "

By the annoyed students backing away and making space for the nurse, they finally saw what had caused the jam. McGonagall was kneeling on the floor just yards into the hall. Beside her, Trelawney, who was swaying as she sat, breathing heavily through her wide open mouth and the big eyes behind her thick glasses stood awry.

"I did not dare to touch her – can you tell me what's wrong with her?", McGonagall whispered in panic, but the third woman just shook her head, no less frightened.

"I – I think she – has some sort of seizure – b-but – this is not my speciality – I – "

"Wait – ", Draco aspirated, something dawning on him and he stepped forward towards the three on the floor.

"What're you doing!", Hannah hissed. "Don't – "

"No – I – I think I know – what's she – "

He had knelt down and now stretched out his left arm. However, McGonagall caught his wrist firmly. But with a single glance he gave her to understand that he knew what he did and she let go, muttering something to herself he couldn't understand. Momentarily, everyone present held their breath when his hand touched Trelawney's shoulder, and a second later, many gasped in shock as she suddenly sized both his arms, with rattling, blood chilling panting, her face so close to his that he could not only see his reflection in her glasses, but her absent eyes at a time.

" _The girl_ – ", Trelawney breathed stertorously, her eyes rolling worse than before, " _Who is surrounded by light, not as close to the boy as belief is, and her mirror, will come before justice's five hundredth strike._ "

"What – ", McGonagall moaned but Draco shushed her with a hiss that resembled much a cat's.

" _There will be a sea of blood. Yet when all of it has vanished, three sisters in hearts and souls will step out of the shadows at last. The veil must not be lifted until silver falls from a loving hand for the second time. When Death is driven to its knees and the martyred souls have returned to the river, only then the Masters over Death can be reunited_ – _but they must wait – wait for – the second time – and – follow – follow an angel's verses_ – ", Trelawney's eyes rolled up and she keeled over, her hands skidding off at last.

"Sybill?", McGonagall shrieked.

"I think, she fainted.", Draco sighed; the rest of the hall laid in confused and frightened silence.

For a while, everyone just stared at the motionless woman, her load of jewellery and beaded wide clothing making her look like a big pile of – Christmas tree without a tree. Like all others, Draco had no idea what this had been about, but he had a notion whom it had been meant for.

"Mr Malfoy? What – was – was that – a – why – "

"Maybe she's fainted because she had to wait such a long time to get it out,", he considered, "But yes, I think it was a prophecy."

"How – how did – you know?", Madam Pomfrey still stammered as well.

"Er – I – once overheard _someone_ talking about a real prediction she had made. It had been similar to this.", his gaze on the unconscious woman, he stood up. "I gotta go – "

"What?", both still conscious women gasped, but Draco already ran for it, upstairs.

He had no idea how he had managed to reach the tower. It was as if all memory of his rush had been erased the moment he arrived at the Gargoyle, trying not to lose a single syllable of the heard. For some seconds he just stared at the statue, until it raised its creaky voice.

"Working Legilimency on stone has no profit for either of us."

"Er – what?", Draco startled. "No – no. I wasn't – I – "

"And he changed the system."

"System?"

"You are supposed to answer me."

" _What?_ "

"Yes. What rises from the ashes on demand?"

"The method everyone can apply."

"Er – "

"Let me through.", Draco huffed. "It's the feathers."

"How do you – "

"Well, you said `on demand´, didn't you? A Phoenix doesn't rise from its ashes on demand, it does due to its nature. But everyone can communicate by demanding feathers from its ashes; yet not every single being on earth can conjure a Patronus that can even talk. Enough of the insider knowledge?"

"Fine, fine, boy. No idea when Ravenclaw adopted you, but you may pass.", grunted the Gargoyle and let him through.

~~#~~

The oddity struck him. Looking into the mirror doors of the wardrobe and down the body in turns, he was close to shiver from the cold in the room. Too marvelled to remember what he had meant to be doing for so long, he watched goosebumps grow. He had used Polyjuice Potion many times before, but only then he realised that he had never taken on a female body. It was so strange and unusual – all the thoughts spinning in his head – but there was a final one he reached that was so kin- _inappropriate,_ he just had to literally shake it off and put on her clothes before he fell too low.

Tightly wrapped in his own cloaks which he shrunk to fit, he walked over to the window and opened it. To his frustration, some snowflakes flew in. _CRACK!_

"Goddamn', Dobby!", he raged when the first-second shock wore off.

"Dobby is sorry if he has startled the – Sir – ", the Elf's already big eyes popped out.

"Don't look at me like that,", Severus moaned. "I have a job to do and that is an easier way to carry it out, even though the preparation had been too time-devouring. Be brief."

"Well, it is the Malfoy boy, Sir. He comes through the door any moment."

"Oh. Thank you. Keep him busy, please. And tell the Gargoyle to ask for the tragedy of last year's queen. The answer should be naming the exact move: castle to E seven. I hardly reckon anyone but Luna remembers and she is not here. Probably Hermione told Ginevra, whatever.", meanwhile Severus had created a light bulb he kept firmly floating in front of the window.

"The tragedy of last year's queen, castle to E seven.", Dobby recited, looking to the ceiling. "Dobby will do so, Sir. Good luck with – your job."

"Dobby – you – you don't happen to have a slight idea where Ron Weasley might have gone?"

"If he is not at The Burrow,", the Elf pondered, "He might be at – at that hut by the sea, Miss! Er – Sir!"

"Shell Cottage, you mean?"

"Yes! That was the name! Dobby heard his sister Ginny talk to Luna Lovegood before she left for the train, about their brother Bill having moved there with his wife, Sir."

"Thank you, Dobby, _thank you!_ "

"Any time!", Dobby smiled and Disapparated into the office with another ear blasting sound when Severus stilled the light with relief and conjured a shield before he flew out of the window, invisible.

Clouds made way, only for a second, thinning out, just enough for some light to shine through, meeting down by the house with a woman, where only for that second, a silver shimmer flashed up before clouds moved back in place. The pot fell. The mix of sand and snow muffled the noise and her breath got stuck so instantly that she didn't give a sound either. Ignoring the pot on the ground, she carefully shut the door and headed up the slope, her delicate wand held tightly. Right at the border of the Fidelius Charm she stopped and looked at the girl that searched the air with her eyes only.

"Fleur?", Hermione asked her. "Is that you? Come on, I know that perfume. You wore it all through the tournament.", convinced, Fleur opened a gap in the shield and let the other in.

"What are you doing 'ere? 'Ow did you find us?"

"I could contact Ginny. She told me about that place and suggested I might go looking."

"And 'Arry?"

"Is fine in our tent up at the cliff.", she attempted to check, but wasn't left a chance. "Is Ron here?"

"Yes! 'E is up on zeh first floor – ", Fleur pointed at the shell-covered house.

"Good. Look at me."

"Yes?

She turned back, still astonished and the moment their eyes met, Fleur became downright dazed when Hermione's voice spoke to her in French. But she turned once more and went back to the house where she picked up the pot, followed by the now invisible newcomer.

"Didn't you want to – "

"It slipped my 'ands.", Fleur sighed at her husband. "I will 'ave to go again."

"Oh."

Severus used that moment to scurry upstairs, where a fizzing sound came through the gap of an open door. Hanging on a chair, he tried to find a signal, looking quite frustrated. Unseen by him, Severus tipped his wand at the wireless and the tuner sped onto an adequate frequency. Ron startled up and stared at the object as though he had seen it never clearer. Music. A song he didn't know, but seemed to like immediately, that much Severus could tell from his expression. He could also see something in a pocket at his chest. The shape was unmistakable – and more than useful. Severus slid around him absolutely silent, his head stopping in front of it. It felt a little strange, almost childish and he feared he would start laughing, but he knew if he made a mistake –

"Ron.", Hermione's whisper left his invisible mouth.

"What?", Ron turned his head – only his head, to Severus' luck, or he might have knocked him out.

"Ron!"

"Hermione? Is that is that you?"

"Help us, please. Find us. We need you. _I_ – need you."

"Hermione? Where are you?"

"I cracked his wand – he needs another – please, Ron – help me, Ron!", finally he looked down at the pocket and reached in, staring at the Deluminator he pulled. "Ron!", Severus repeated in her voice, higher up now, to match the level he held it at. "Ron!"

He was more than prepared for it. The moment Ronald clicked the Deluminator, the lights naturally soared in, but quickly Severus cast his own version of a Tracking Spell, making it look like it had come from the instrument, shooting it through the closed window. Confused, the young man's eyes followed the light, out of sight. When he jumped up, the chair toppled back and fell to the floor with a lot of noise. Severus stopped the light right where Fleur had dropped the pot before – and did again at the sight of the light bulb. Ron opened the window, not even noticing that someone stood next to him.

"Qu'est-ce que – ", Fleur aspirated at the light and nearly twisted her neck when she turned her head up at Ron's call.

"I gotta go!", he panted with excitement. "Hermione sent me that!"

"'Ermione?"

"No idea!", Ron laughed. "But I gotta go!"

Satisfied, he watched Ron pack his things hastily and leave the room at full speed, hearing him almost push his protesting brother downstairs. Outside in the white garden, he stopped by the light. Both gazed at it as it floated into Ron's chest. Since he had been granted access, it was as easy for him to Disapparate as it was for Ron, once he had flown out of the window.

Furthermore, it had stopped snowing in the north and so flying back up to the castle was a flight of pure relief. He wouldn't let her know. That would be his Christmas present and it would not be nearly as effective when he told her again to look out for Ron. Through the still open window, he rushed into the cold round room, landed silently and shut the window without magic. He had done enough of that for one day. All he wanted was to get out of her clothes and rid of her body. It just didn't suit him, even though he quite liked that body. Touching, was fine. But actually being in it – with a deep sigh he became visible again, and nearly choked at his ow- _Hermione's_ tongue.

It was hard to tell who was closer to faint. He by the bed, or Draco in the doorway.

"What?"

"Dobby is so sorry, so terribly sorry!", the Elf cried by Draco's feet. "Dobby couldn't stop him!"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sorry.", Dobby squeaked pitifully again and was gone with a _crack_.

" _What?_ ", Draco repeated. "Why's she here and how come you're stuck in her?"

"Do – do you have the slightest idea how silly that just sounded?"

"Do you have an idea how silly that sounds, hearing your voice coming from her mouth?"

"Believe me, I have hardly ever felt worse. And _no_ , for Heaven's sake, I _haven't_ done anything inappropriate. So if you don't mind, either turn around or wait outside. I need to change back and I don't think she would want _you_ to see her naked."

"Er – right – ", Draco blushed and closed the door behind.

~~#~~


	51. Chapter 50 - Ghosts are supposed to be

– Chapter 50 –

 **Ghosts are supposed to be..**

"Would you be so sweet and tell me what you are doing?"

"Could anyone throw ou' tha fairy princess, please?", Severus moaned when he had raised his head another annoyed time for pleading at the other portraits. "Too much o' poof in 'ere."

"Oh Severus, what have I done to you this time?"

"I'm tryin' ter concentrate."

"To me it looks more as though you were praying. Have you at last found a god that seems trustworthy?"

"Shu' yer trap!", Severus barked, but Dumbledore only sighed and readjusted the glittering pink garland on his hat he had received for Christmas from a friend on the third floor.

"Never learning manners, is he?", Phyllida Spore wailed and fled, with a shrill shriek, from a bowl of Sugar Mice that was thrown against her canvas. "Totally mad!", she dropped before jumping out of the portrait that was closest to the door on her straight way, on which she almost knocked over three of her companions that complained equally loud.

"Dear Severus, has Igor still not persuaded you to keep your hands off mice?", Dumbledore smirked at his own fingernails.

"Wan' some?", Severus summoned a handful from the floor as he already stood anyway and held up his fist demonstratively, all considerations about Sybill's words Draco had told him days before or the message from Luna blown away lastly.

"Ah no, thank you. I am well supplied.", Dumbledore lifted a bowl in his portrait that was eternally refilling with Sherbet Lemon.

Much to everyone's fortune and Severus' grand relief, Phineas jumped in right then with the best news he had brought within months, though he did well to use a word that could indeed dim the brightness of his message. But Severus didn't really care. It was what he had hoped for. The moment had finally come for his very own late Christmas present and after he took the chance to snap at the old man's portrait another time and push him aside fiercely, he left the office with the sword in hand, completely relaxed at the beautiful ringing sound the slamming of the door caused in his ears.

No more windows. Not after that awkward moment with Draco. Before he flew past the Gargoyle, he became invisible and he rushed through the castle, leaving all his anger in the corridors behind. Flying past a group of students who startled at the unseen move that made their fresh writing on the wall change from red _Dumbledore's Army – Think different, join NOW!_ to bright neon pink _Dumblewhore's Arms – Think pink, get a HUG!_ , he left the building through an arch, out into the night and Disapparated as soon as he passed the magical barrier.

Once he stood on the silent grounds and the cold, dark dead of the night sunk in on him, he knew he was right. Not far away, there was a shield. He felt it. But more, he felt something he had almost forgotten what it was like. Longer than half a year. He was home. They definitely were somewhere around here, he only needed to find the edge of the shield and wait. The feeling was so strong he didn't even have to put on his winter cloak or – a scarf. It warmed him from inside.

Frozen leaves under his clean shoes, those trailed over the ground as silent as a cat's paws in the moonless, starless darkness. But his eyes were used to such and the flight in the castle had given them a sort of warm-up. Then he nearly stumbled over a trunk he had missed nevertheless. Though a closer look showed him it was – a person. Wrapped tight in many layers of clothing, the figure was lying on the ground. By the quiet muttering the young man gave himself so as to not fall asleep and die in the cold, he recognised him and helped him by simply kneeling down without a sound and stroking a hand once over his head. Ron rushed up in shock, with his wand held out, but naturally didn't discover the source of the touch.

"Homenum Revelio.", he whispered, but Severus knew to resist.

Leaving Ron there with his blood boiling and warming the youngster again, he made it further towards the shield, eventually stopped by his right foot skidding away. With a suppressed gasp, he cursed himself for his confidence in his actually lacking eyesight. Fortunately the frozen surface of the pond hadn't given in. A short combining glance at the ice later and the sword in his hand, he walked across the firm glaze which quietly cracked open in a circle where he meant it to. Utter self-hate about his cruelty towards his son swamping him, he dropped the artefact in and watched it sink to the ground, where it landed gently and shimmering. Repaired with another wave of his hand, he left that ice as though it had never been touched and walked on, drawing neared to the shield until his feet turned on their own without being noticed by him at first. But he knew the nature of such enchantments far too well, and as though Hermione had mentally spoken an exception, he could make out the tent in some distance.

His heart leapt. Leaning to it, the boy had fallen asleep. As if he had felt that he was being watched, he jerked up from his doze and looked around, robbing his eyes behind the shimmering glasses. Seeing him stretching his thighs and scratching his neck filled Severus heart with such warmth he feared he would burst into comforting flames. Harry raised his hand to look at it, whether it was of boredom or the simple need to see something at all, he didn't want to know. He was forced back to reality and his task and did a silent step behind a tree, where he pulled his wand from his sleeve.

Blinding himself a little, the doe took shape and by the change of his feeling, he knew he had done enough to gain Harry's attention. Just slowly, he let her step out. No time for fear. The rest of the world was scared enough. They both were scared enough. This moment was theirs, however, and theirs alone, as he heard him call, watched him follow the gentle being of pure happiness. Their belated Christmas. The almost safe, almost calm eye in the centre of the devouring dark storm.

~~#~~

Hogwarts was emptied. Almost emptied. In the Great Hall, at dim light, the Carrow twins sat alone at the round table. _Almost_ alone, but basically, they were. Between them, swallowing down his grins with every spoon of extremely delicious chocolate and spearmint cream, Severus Snape in an old silver embroidered black dress robe of his he had not even needed to alter much to fit him, and the purple scarf knotted, against his chest, with the ends hanging in equal length. The rest of the small round was a number of Slytherins that had remained in the castle over Christmas. Opposite to him, Draco, doing pretty much the same with some yoghurt. They held a conversation of occasional eye contact in the quiet, swallowing a little heavier every time one of the twins gave the unusual scarf a sideglance, even after weeks and their first encounter in mid September.

"I'll be going now.", Draco said flatly when he had emptied his bowl and left the hall through the open main door; Severus followed as he was done as well, but without a word.

It was no news to anyone that they were getting along well, so it didn't surprise the people at the table that they walked upstairs together. Out of earshot, Severus quickly turned for a hidden shortcut and Draco slipped in with him, onto the staircase in the narrow tunnel, where they couldn't avoid having a short, quiet laugh, the light at the tip of Draco's wand quivering a bit. But he had something on his mind and the thought of telling it hurt, yet he had to. Nevertheless he waited for Severus' smile to fade as well.

"Mum wrote me a letter.", he said, his lips curling. "They're back at the Manor."

"Gonadh.", Severus mumbled and scratched his tickling neck under the scarf, gazing at the stone steps below.

"And she wrote something about Harry nearly having escaped at the Lovegoods' yesterday.", that made his head zoom back up with a look Draco had neither ever seen on him, nor could construe. "Any idea why he could have gone there? Don't reckon he wanted to visit Luna?"

"She isn't there."

"Er – "

"They have taken her from the train."

" _What?_ ", Draco muttered.

"Didn't you get the message she sent out on Saturday?"

"Did – did she?", the boy gargled.

"Yes. Neville overwrote it though with wishes of good luck and then another message to put up more graffiti. I assume, he didn't want anyone worried. They brought her to some cellar, but she had no idea where it could be. It was rather hard to decipher. She must have sent it wandless, logically."

"Shit.", Draco couldn't hold himself and leant back against the cold wall. "Why – "

"It seems, Xenophilius wrote a little too openly. There is no way it was her own mistake. She is far too good. The message was only bits, however. _Fight on train, close caught, cellar somewhere, no light_. I don't think she got hurt, but we should watch out for information on the wireless. If there really was a fight on the train, it will soon run on Potterwatch. Speaking of which, where are the others?"

"Didn't _you_ catch that?", the girl's voice made them jump. "Strike! Whoohoo!", Ginevra cheered above them with her arms in the air, but quiet. "Finally got to repay, Sir."

"Oh shame – I have been beaten."

"What was that with the train?"

"That can wait until the party's over.", Draco sighed.

"Party?", Severus startled.

"New Year's Eve Party up in the Room of Requirement. Everyone's invited. Everyone but current Slytherins, former Slytherins and general Pure-Blood-Sorting supporters. Being supposedly completely cured, I was allowed to take part, but only under the guidance of my Head of House, of course, and he's permitted entrance since he offered to smuggle the booze in."

"Incredible!", Severus moaned with a chuckle. "Why am I never invited to parties? I mean, I'd positively dehydrate, but still!"

"That's because you don't like parties,", Draco noted.

"Oh yes – there was something.", the moan stepped aside for a murmur of similar seriousness. "Right then, go to your beloved party. I'll be up on the Astronomy Tower, hanging myself."

"Need a rope?", Draco snickered when he squeezed himself past an unnoticed blushing Ginevra.

"No, thank you, I learned to conjure such even before I attended Hogwarts.", Severus sighed. "After all, I had a father as well, who loved to be tied to chairs."

"Will you come back as a ghost?", asked Draco when they followed him.

"Am I not already one of them?"

"Ghosts are transparent, Sir. Are you transparent?", Ginevra giggled, regretting it eventually when he made himself invisible as he went further ahead. "Oh f-"

"Go at me like this again and I take back my wish that I want you to become Harry's wife."

"You were serious on that one, Sir?"

"Certainly. Since, due to widely known circumstances, you cannot be my little sister, I thought I should just go for the hope of a daughter-in-law."

"Er – he's drunk, right?", Ginevra turned to Draco while climbing upstairs.

"He never drinks. I thought, you knew that by now. And he said it not even a minute ago."

"Still – "

"No. He's upset. Just doesn't want to show it for his own and our welfare – and the unfavourable surrounding. Nothing to be destroyed, you see?"

"Is he?"

"And in spite of your inability to see me due to my _ghostly_ state, _I am still here_."

"You can't be dead enough.", Draco stopped him when they left the hidden staircase and he became visible in the light of the boy's wand again. "You'll always be with me, no matter how far away you are.", Severus turned around, his eyes shining far bluer than Draco's were inherently.

"If an ocean was between?"

"If universes were between."

Some seconds passed for Severus to actually understand that Draco meant it. Seconds in which he only gazed at him in the wand-light, his lips not fully closed. Ginevra looked from one to the other, trying to understand as well. Without noticing, Severus swallowed and curled his lips, his eyebrows narrowing in sorrow, wondering whether he could actually ever leave Draco on his own, whether that _child_ could survive longer than a minute in a world without him.

It had never occurred to him that there might be anyone who needed a father more than Harry did, but there actually was someone, standing right in front of him. Knowing that he had to do that especially now, though he had planned to do it anyway, he pulled Draco in his arms, held him close in the most comforting embrace he could give him at the moment. And when Draco returned it, everything was confirmed.

He felt guilty. Could he really tell him what he had meant to tell? Wasn't it a little too irreverent now? But – could it hurt? At least he hoped, it wouldn't. So he whispered into his ear.

"If you need a place to go, take my old office. It shall open for you at the touch of your hand. Your hand only; apart from mine; for now. And if you search for something to be on the safe side, you will quite likely find it in the second lowest drawer."

When they slid apart, he placed a caring kiss on his cheek and patted the other softly, trying to give him a smile that didn't show his concern.

"Alright.", Draco whispered looking him in the eyes. "Are you really going up the Astronomy Tower?"

"No.", Severus sighed. "Not tonight. Too many memories.", it brought him an agreeing nod. "Happy New Year, Draco. Try to start it pleasantly.", they went for another short hug.

"You too. Happy New Year."

"Oh, I assume, I will. Thank you."

"Why? What will you be doing?"

"I will be going to my very own party.", Severus winked.

"Don't play me for a fool,"

"If you think I am,", he meant, studying Ginevra for a moment.

"Yes?", she asked – and startled. "Whow!", he had stepped over to her and taken her into his arms as well, if only for about three seconds. "Happy New Year, Sir!", the girl aspirated.

"Happy New Year, Ginevra."

"A little strange.", Draco considered.

"What is strange?"

"There's still half an hour to go and we're acting like the bell rang."

"Anything wrong about it?"

"Well – "

"And it is five and a half hours for me."

"Er – "

"Enough for getting some awkward presents. Good night,", he smiled at both of them and vanished down the corridor in fog.

"Five and a half? Where the hell's he going?", Ginevra chuckled.

"No idea. But I s'ppose, we should go upstairs or we'd miss the best."

"Says you. Have you ever been to a Hogmanay Party?"

"No."

~~#~~

Brown and greyish blue eyes were directed at a light blue ceiling in the shine of a chandelier. Next to Draco's head, on top of a chest of drawers, stood a small wooden casket, open, having been more than half empty already when he had found it thanks to the hint. But now, it was a tiny bit emptier – though the minds in the bed were filled with thoughts to a bursting point. Below, stood two trays with empty dishes.

"That were some worthy Sickles,", Hannah aspirated dreamily, tearing Draco from his thoughts.

"Yeah. Really worthy."

"Thank you."

"'Twas just breakfast."

"I meant the night."

"Oh – yes. Thank you too.", Draco smiled and they kissed, rather tired again.

"I know it's a horrible thing to ask, but does he have a wife? I've seen a ring, but on the wrong – "

"No."

"A girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Well, at least he had before summer."

"What happened?"

"If I'm not brutally mistaken, she went – on the run."

"Oh. That's sad."

"It is. But I think, they're still in contact, in a secure way."

"Good. Um Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Any idea what time it is?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"Well, I just remembered that gigantic clock they had up there and wondered. I mean, I don't mind spending eternity here with you, but at one point, I would really like to thank him."

"Okay, then we should find out, shouldn't we?"

"Alright."

It nevertheless took them estimated thirty minutes to get ready and leave the rooms almost like they had found them. As expected, the castle was completely deserted and only a soft winter's light filled the halls. Every single being in any portrait of the Grand Tower was vast asleep as though a spell had been cast over the ancient building. It hadn't been that peaceful since summer. Naturally, the Gargoyle statue was woken with protest as well, but accepted the answer Draco provided. Carefully he pushed down the handle of the office door that appeared to be unlocked – for him, he guessed. Inside the tower office, the same general slumber greeted them. But it was clear, there had been a big feast. On various portraits the background setting was arranged in strange ways and garlands were hanging in the most horrific directions. He wondered which portraits in the castle had so many garlands that they had been able to move such masses in here.

The couple tiptoed towards the desk and past the empty bird stand, to the right staircase. Just when Hannah placed a foot on the lowest step, a very quiet voice made them jerk. His hat as decorated as the majority of the other portraits, Dumbledore blinked at them, obviously not fully able to see them with his tired painted eyes.

"If I was you, I would not want to disturb him. He returned approximately half an hour ago and hissed at me that I shouldn't shout at him. In fact, I merely whispered."

"What time is it?", Draco asked.

"Quarter to ten. There was some glitter on his face, as well as in his hair. I have no idea how it came to that, and I don't reckon he knew it was there even, but there was enough evidence that at whichever party he had celebrated the start of this new year, he had attended it for at least six hours."

"Er – "

"Well, he mumbled something like `I had that for the last six hours,´ so – and he seemed to be glad that his feet could still carry him to something like a bed. If I am not mistaken about his habits from many years in the past, he had been dancing nearly all those six hours long."

"Who would hold a Hogmanay Party that goes on for six hours?", Hannah frowned.

"He has not named anyone in particular, but it seemed, for him it was a little too light in here for his favour. He meant it was only four in the morning."

"I thought he doesn't drink – ", she turned to Draco.

"Oh he doesn't.", Dumbledore meant. "But, as I said, it might have been the afterglow of too many spins, and he noted that he would never ever go to New York again, at least not with ` _those tards_ ´ – whoever they may be.", the old man sighed and slid back into a posture that did not really look comfortable, but for him it appeared to be.

"New York?", Draco murmured.

"New York."

Dumbledore yawned widely and both could see that he had been painted with very detailed teeth and tongue. Hannah frowned equally stretched, her mouth forming the city's name silently.

"If you excuse me, please, my party has not been less exhausting."

~~#~~

New Year's resolutions were commonly known to be put up in vain. But those of a certain pair of twins were nothing to be joking with. That made it almost impossible for the crystals to keep up. The points they took off, were only hours; if not minutes; later coincidentally mentioned in front of the other teachers, who did not hear it and therefore awarded these numbers for absolutely justified reasons without possible connection, the most cunning one being `smiling in times of war´.

However, as retarded the Carrows were in cases, unfortunately they seemed to catch some things. By the arrival of Luna's short coin-message of still being imprisoned but fine in first week of February, almost no student hadn't been put in detention at least once a week. Those unlucky due to the Carrows' lack of dealing with them all, were forced to scream their lungs out in other teachers' offices while trying not to laugh in between, or had to spend it at the borders of the forest with the gruesome beast Rubeus Hagrid and were therefore unable to enjoy the utter pleasure of actually being tortured all the way up to the Hospital Wing for saving transporting time when there was no space left for being chained up in the Dungeons.

Desperate attempts of avoiding being sighted by the siblings at any other times than meals, the still mandatory walk after lunch or worst, classes, had resulted in the only substance smearing the castle walls being hints of blood where skin hadn't resisted enough – or materials that were spread by one who couldn't be punished: Peeves. While the DA members had stopped being active apart from taking care of one another, the Poltergeist had considered himself responsible for fighting the reign of agony with his very own reign of chaos.

So it happened that it was the Chief Troublemaker who made it once again impossible for the two to attend one of those rainy, windy walks in the second week of March. For some mysterious phenomenon that had happened until the groups' return to the Viaduct Courtyard under the guidance of various different Patronuses, only the Slytherins were soaking wet. All but one seventh-year, who walked in their last row. Having returned to the shelter of the yard, the guards of light vanished – and with them the weary smile of a silent watcher up between the thick walls around the Great Hall's roof, turning a golden ring around the finger it stuck on.

Secretly he hoped for her to appear behind him like she had any time he had watched the walk from up there. But she wouldn't. Optimism had been torn from the middle of the rebellion, like a burning cannonball hitting a dry forest. Since it had become clear to everyone that Luna wouldn't return, Neville had given up telling that she had probably only stayed at home a little longer. Then there had already been the message on the wireless. Information about both attacks had leaked at last. He had played with the thought of going looking for her and freeing her under disguise, but he was needed at Hogwarts. Every day, every hour, nearly every minute. It felt to him as though he hadn't slept since the beginning of the year and he looked down, over the edge, resisting the urge to let gravity work. Then gravity did work.

Gravity had worked so abruptly that he actually nearly fell from his place. Students and teachers alike were storming for the arches, looking in the direction where also he had heard the rumbling come from. Soaked from two weeks of almost constant raining, the soil on an area close to the shore of the Black Lake had given in and pulled trees with it. Worse, it was not only a small stripe of trees, the cave-in spanned for approximately a furlong, increasing. The shape and direction couldn't have been more obvious: the tunnel had collapsed, and was still collapsing slowly.

When he realised what his heart was doing, Severus wasn't so sure anymore if it was beating so fast that he couldn't tell the beats apart, or whether it had stopped completely. The only relief was the time. No one had been in the tunnel. No one – the horrible thought crawling up his spine ate up all the relief. Hastily he rummaged for his broom, made himself invisible and flew down to Hogsmeade at full speed, thick raindrops dashing into his face. But there were other times to worry about getting wet. The barrier let him through and he sped towards the Hog's Head.

Mud splattered in all directions when his shoes touched ground before he had even stopped flying and he crashed the door open. Several heads turned. There was only a small number of guests, but one looked shabbier than the other and each of them was searching the doorway and its surrounding for the newcomer. When he came up from the cellar with a crate of beer in hands, miry footsteps formed on the floor and a big wet spot loomed at the wall. Noticing the open door, Aberforth put down the crate earlier than he had planned to and withdrew his wand from his belt. But the mud spread towards him and he found himself dragged back to where he had come from. The door shut itself when they reached the topmost stair and he studied the prints on those as they went down. At the foot, he finally got to see who had nobbled him.

Remains of the rain were dripping from his straight hair, his hooked nose and his now heavy clothes. The look Aberforth was presented with was a million miles away from happiness. Paralysed, he studied the sallow face for about a minute before he swallowed and asked the clichéd question.

"What the hell happened?", he aspirated, but Severus' breath was dawdling and he only managed to gargle the words that painted immediate shock on Aberforth's face.

"Tunnel. Collapsed. At tha lake."

"You – you're kidding me!", Severus shook his head.

"No. Saw it 'appen."

"Shit. But I – I haven't heard anything – "

"It's tha upper par's. No way ye could've 'eard tha' in tha' weather an' wit' tha wind blowin' up ter tha castle."

"And – ", just slowly the old man sat down at the table they stood by, "Any – any students – "

"No' tha' I know.", Severus moaned and joined him, not letting go of his broom. "They've been on tha walk. I 'ope no fool's been in 'ere. 'Twas one o' tha previously existin' par's as far as I could make ou'."

"And now?"

"Well,", a limp chuckle escaped him, "Now we're back in November."

"I'll help 'em rebuild it."

"No.", Severus countered quickly. "Ev'rythin's unstable. I should've never permitted tha'. I knew tha dangers, bu' le' 'em do. I risked too many lives already. If tha rain 'olds ou', 'alf tha tunnel will be flooded be termorrow. 'T's too dangerous."

"You want anything? Tea?"

"No, thank ye. I'll better ge' back up an' find Ginevra. Go' ter know whether sum'one's missin'.", he stood up and wanted to leave already, but Aberforth stopped him

"Alright. Take a bath, will you. Something warm. Don't catch a cold, you hear me?"

But Severus was on his broom already, waiving him and becoming invisible when he flew upstairs. Again heads turned on the door that opened for him and shut behind. What had been minor before, was now actually feeling pleasant. He somehow enjoined the rain. It was ice cold, but like taking a shower. Flying along the lake, he surveyed the scale of the devastation. The movement had stopped for now, still it looked more fatal than it had done from above. Trees had fallen in almost all directions and some cracked as though they had been nothing but toothpicks.

There, in the Entrance Hall, students were just departing for their afternoon lessons, discussing under their breath. Unmistakably, a certain group stayed a little longer. He flew in through the open oaken gates and sat down a little further away, counting, like Ginevra and Neville did, while he packed his broom without having to look.

"Where's Xander?", Draco moaned.

"I'm here!", whimpered the second-year Ravenclaw and brandished with his entire arm.

"Okay. Seems, we're compl– "

"Well, well, well. What have we got here.", her sneer echoed down the otherwise empty marble staircase from where she came, her hair messed up and her clothes partly torn. "Quite a large group of students, hmm? Unwilling to go to class? Oh, no, no, no. You're going nowhere else either."

They had attempted to flee in various possible directions, but she encircled them all with a ring of flames, floating in average hip height.

"Not so fast, little bootlicker.", a wand soared across and she caught it before the spell could be cast. "No one is going to disarm me here, espec– "

The wand flew back down, along with her own, which mysteriously met with the powerful magical fire. It fell to the floor halfway from there where it burnt while the other was caught skilfully at the closed gilded doors. The looks he received would have been troubling, but if he was honest, he didn't bother at the moment, although that carelessness alarmed some sense in him.

"Oops,", he gave her a mock wail.

"What the – "

"It seems, you are suffering from a slight security problem. This is quite a number of students you are trying to deal with here, _without a wand_ even. Has it not occurred to you that one of them might overpower you eventually? Why don't you let me take care of that, hmm?", two elegant swings of his own wand later, the strangely still burning fire was gone and replaced by a glassy cupola that wouldn't allow them to move away likely, nor send any spell outside. "Go and take a shower.", he murmured.

"Sure. To match you?", Alecto laughed angrily, studying him from top to bottom, obviously having missed that it had been him to summon both wands.

"Don't I look better than you now?", he countered. "Or do you want me to conjure you a mirror so you can marvel at your breathtaking beauty?"

"And you think, _you_ can deal with them better than I.", she huffed.

"So that has slipped your notice as well, I see. _I just did_. And this is the fifth time already in one school year that you lost a wand. Of course I have no doubt that you can afford another. Still, if I was you, I would indeed start to question myself; whether I'd got the sort of qualities the Dark Lord is seeking to have in his inner circle."

"You repugnant – "

"Mind your tongue.", Severus warned her not only verbally, but without any visible move that had caused it, she appeared to have nearly swallowed said part of her body. "Unless you wish to have another thing back in common with your brother.", clearly understanding what he was referring to and coughing, panic drifted into her face. "Believe me, should any of you two speak a single word against me or Draco ever again, when I am done with you, you wish you had had the influence to convince the Lord of replacing me with Bellatrix. Now, shouldn't you be in a classroom?"

As if she had been confunded, she turned on the spot and hurried upstairs. With a deep snort, Severus directed his look from her to her wand of which was not much left than smouldering bits of ash and the Dragon heartstrings that remained practically untouched by the fire. He simply left the misery on the floor, gave the shield a vanishing sweep and marched towards the group, leaving stains of water all over the stone tiles. The students divided for him, lowering their heads slightly anxious, and he gave Draco back his wand, whereby he additionally closed the boy's fingers around it, their eyes connected but both their expression blank.

"You do good taking care of that.", Severus whispered stiffly over the sound of the rain echoing in. "And you lot,", he shortly paused, his eyes flicking around, "Off to your classes, before I change my mind and bind you to those pillars out there until the sky is blue again."

Though a little hesitantly, they started moving, most of them upwards. Severus indicated to Draco to follow them with a gentle nod and finally let go of his hand when the boy turned for the main stairs. Severus' chin dropped and, with his eyes closed, he inhaled the fresh air that came in from the yard. He already wanted to turn for the Dungeons when a voice stopped him.

"Where have you been, Sir?", first his head, then the rest of his body spun around. "Don't say you've been outside, because I'm not daft."

"I – merely wanted to check – whether Aberforth hadn't been in the tunnel.", he barely raised his voice. "You are certain, that there is no one missing?", Ginevra nodded, sad, but confident when he pushed his black wand up under his sleeves.

"You better change your clothes and dry your hair, Sir. Otherwise you'd catch a cold.", he only gave a single chuckle into space, the smirk fading as fast as it had appeared and Ginevra's attention was drawn by a simple movement of his hand that made the huge front gate close.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

The sigh that left him couldn't fully convince himself. Furthermore, the light that rushed through the closed oaken wood blew away all their thoughts about the tunnel. Panic-stricken, the lion spun its head and panted its lungs out with a voice Severus had heard coming from his own mouth many times in the past.

"They're after me! Dean Disapparated with Griphook! Left Gornuk somewhere behind! Ted's dead! They got me bound! I'm running but it's all just trees here! God! Why do they have to be so fast! Don't think I'll – "

Like a sandcastle the bluish white lion suddenly crumpled into feeble green lights that vanished. Some seconds passed. Seconds in which both tried to realise what had just happened. Confused but more and more aware of what it had meant, Ginevra startled when Severus gasped into his hand and her head turned from where the lion had disappeared, at him. Tears were already running over his fingers and he sank to his knees, nearly suffocating from the attempt to muffle his crying with his hand. He couldn't anymore. His head slid down, his forehead resting in his palm. The still dripping bundles of his hair slid for his face's cover. Unable, unwilling to pull himself together, he wept bitterly.

No sound came from her. Silently, Ginevra cried with him, eventually kneeling down by his side. He was cold and completely soaked, but she didn't care. Even more, it encouraged her to warm him, to lay her arms around him, comfort him. Footsteps came from above and she sought for their source. Shocked, she wanted to signal him that someone was coming, but he was strangely half transparent. So were her arms. A light bulb stopped right in front of her face, turned bright red and flashed. By that moment, he had done his best to deaden his crying again. The woman came to halt only two feet away, her flustered look down on the light.

"Miss Weasley? Where by all means are you? This is not – oh! There you are!", he had wrangled himself from her grip and she was forced to see that she had become visible again. "But why are you sitting on the floor here?", McGonagall continued moaning and the tracker dissolved. "Are you crying? Since when can you – who is – ", her teacher had spotted the stains building a slow track on the floor. "Who else is here?", Ginevra's look followed them as well – he went for the Dungeons. "Miss Weasley?", she had pushed herself up and meant to walk after him.

"It's Harry!", Ginevra hissed her desperate lie, not really fond of the thought of staying there while he went away.

"H- oh my goodness! But – "

"Under his cloak! He's injured!"

"But then why – ", McGonagall aspirated, but was cut off again.

"I'll do that. I'll have to get something for him from the Potions classroom.", Ginevra whimpered demanding and ran. "He's got hit on the mouth too. That's why he doesn't say anything. Go back to class, Madam. Invent something why I'm gone. Please!"

There was no sign of him, but the torches were lit all the way down to his former office, so did the stains. Tears dried, Ginevra sped through the long corridor, the cold blue burning in her eyes. Arrived, she slid to halt and found the door standing ajar. Careful she pushed it, stepped into the dark and closed it behind. A lighting flick of her wand let a whiter shine fill the office than the light outside was. Immediately her eyes found the open shelf-door in the otherwise empty room. She swallowed hard and approached it, her hands trembling.

The light of her wand fell in when she reached it, on the dark wooden bed with its white clothing. On the floor laid a massive pile of black fabric, a white shirt on top and a clean pair of shoes dropped by it equally careless. His wet hair was spread on the pillow and he had pulled the blanket up to it. In spite of the light that her wand created being dim, she could clearly see him shaking.

Still in that light, she cautiously walked closer, but he didn't look up. Not when she slipped out of her own shoes, not when her cloak slid to the floor, not when she took off her vest and tie and threw them down as well. Not when the blouse and trousers followed, and not even when she sat down, lifted the blanket and crawled in. He only chuckled a little louder and slightly winced when her arm glided under his and across his cold, bare chest. Her hand on his heart, the light went out. Instead, a soft stream of warm air blew over the pillow. Cuddled to his back, she dried his hair.

Unsure whether it was the touch; the feeling of someone close; or the warmth against his head – or both, she felt and heard his breath calming. Not bothering that her right arm was squeezed into a strange position, she did her best to warm him and got the rightness of it confirmed soon: his hands moved over her left and pulled it closer. After a while, the slim but strong fingers wrapped hers.

"Nice lie.", he whispered.

"Thanks.", she whispered back.

"Why are you doing that."

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. That's the way it works in a family."

"Family?"

"I don't fully know how, and I can understand if I'm not supposed to know or tell anyone a thing either, but I know. If we're still alive by the end of the war, there's a two hundred percent chance I'll become Harry's wife. And I think I'm in good hands with my future father-in-law as well. So yes, family."

~~#~~


	52. Chapter 51 - Knock and Turn

– Chapter 51 –

 **Knock and Turn**

"Did you enjoy it?"

"There's none I didn't enjoy here. Why would I suddenly meet with an exception? After almost six years?"

"That is right. They know their craft."

"Does he always deliver it personally?"

"Dobby is a caring Elf. He has grown fond of me. So yes, mostly he does, even if he doesn't prepare it all alone. Anything for afters? Marl makes the best stewed pumpkin."

"Oh, no, thanks.", Ginevra laughed. "I'm full to the brim."

"You have no idea what you are missing,", he smirked when a bowl of said dessert appeared before him.

"I miss Harry."

"Whom you tell.", Severus sighed.

"And Luna. And Hermione. Even Ron, blimey."

"It is no crime to miss one's siblings. No matter how much of a pest they could be."

"I wonder where they – "

"The last notice I got from Hermione was a week ago, actually. They are changing places as good as they can. Those Snatchers – are – everywhere – "

"Any positive news?", Ginevra threw in before he could think too much of what he had gotten to know in the Entrance Hall.

"Well, she meant that Harry refused to let her cut his hair ever since she made him `look like a porcupine´ for Hallowe'en when she had to cut more and more because she didn't manage to get a good shape.", Ginevra could laugh again, which visibly cheered him up as well, but he continued murmuring after some quiet seconds. "I wouldn't want mine that short either, to be honest. According to her description, no one would be able to differ us from behind now if he wore slightly higher heels. She also wrote that she went for buying shampoo under Polyjuice Potion because Ron kept annoying them with complaints about him `going for the Snape-look´."

"What?", she chuckled, and he couldn't hold himself either this time.

"He is so tactful sometimes,", Severus grinned to his half empty bowl.

"Oh yes. Gentle like a Mountain Troll. But how can he know about that anyway. He's blessed with Dad's hair.", she brushed her own in thoughts.

"That isn't any in my case. There indeed is a porcupine line in my family tree, and that, combined with my mother's waves; and then Lily's also thick mass; would make us top candidates for a Stand-Off award, if such was ever given by that crappy Witch Weekly. I am glad that there is a cure which saves time. Though the itching can be horror sometimes."

"So that's why you called Sirius the bigger snivelling simp of the two of you, when he complained about fleas again."

"If I planned on effectively cursing someone for a lifetime, I would wish them my hair."

"Sure. And Hermione and I would definitely win the women's cups. God – are we actually talking about hair?", moaned Ginevra.

"It appears so, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Say, what's that dialect of yours, actually? I mean, I didn't hear much of it, but it sounds like a mix of Scottish, Cockney and a whole lot of crap."

"Tha's pretty much wha' it is,", he meant and drained the juice in one go.

"But it's terrible! Some doesn't even make sense, when you analyse it!"

"'En dun'."

"What?"

"Dun' analyse when ye think it doesn' make sense at all, _Hermione_.", Severus winked, but received a huff. "An' since when 'ave ye found it wise ter analyse me dialec'?"

"Quite some time ago already.", Ginevra puffed. "I'm not so sure how wise it is and you might be right about her influence, but that's exactly what I meant. Like `to´ or `for´, for example! Sure, a lot of people say it crappy, but adding a rolling r is just – "

"I dunno wha' ye go' ter complain 'bou' tha'. 'T's completely normal fer me."

"Yeah! For you!", she laughed. "So that's easier for you than the way you speak with everyone? Like you do in class for example?"

"Be far, yes, a lo' easier. After all I grew up wit' it. So naturally, it's far less complicated fer me ter speak. Ye migh' no' ge' tha' impression, bu' it's 'ard ter no' drif' inter tha', as ye call it, mix o' crap."

"And I don't really get how you can speak it that fast.", Ginevra slowly shook her head. "How can anyone possible teach their children to speak like that! Yes, don't give me that look. It's really been me who just said that, not Hermione."

"Me mother did a good job learnin' me ter speak – ah, _normal_ as well,", he chuckled, "An' I wun' deny it brough' me further in life. 'T's go' certain advantages when people can keep track o' at leas' 'alf o' wha' ye're throwin' at 'em."

"And then you do it by using tons of words an eleven-year-old can't possibly understand, making all first-years feel like they're the least valuable creatures walking this planet."

"Ah well,", he scratched his neck, "Sum' say, such resides in tha pas'; sum' child'ood tragedies I never go' ter come ter terms wit', an' maybe they're righ' – I'd been readin' far too much I now know I shouldn' 'ave read."

"Oh, for sure, it's all the books' fault.", she curled her lips, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yep, it's all 'bou' tha readin' matters.", Severus sang childishly. "Books make people's brains go fuzzy. Better be addicted ter all sor's o' drugs at tha age o' twelve already. Makes tha world look far more beautiful."

"He's been taking drugs as a child?", Ginevra understood whom he was referring to without having to ponder much.

"'E's been fed wit' 'em."

"That explains a lot,", she sighed mournfully but did indeed catch the look he gave her right when a certain consideration popped into her mind; she decided to dismiss it. "Did you catch any news of Luna lately?"

"No. No' a single. Bu' Draco mean' tha' if she was dead, we'd surely know firs'."

"Er – "

"'E did no' explain more, bu' Luna's ways o' thinkin' are diff'ren'. Though no' so diff'ren' from mine sum'times an' I think I know wha' Draco seems ter believe she's done. We'll know, I am certain. So fer now, we shouldn' worry 'bou' 'er."

"Okay.", Ginevra noted deflated. "Draco said you want him to go home for Easter but he doesn't really like the thought, after what happened at Christmas. Will you go with him for the summer holidays?"

"It is indeed a temptin' though', bu' I shouldn'. There's so much tension between Draco an' Lucius an' they 'ave ter solve 'eir problem on 'eir own. I meself dun' like tha though' o' intervenin' more."

"So where else will you go? New York?", Ginevra chuckled.

"Naturally 'e told ye. Bu' no, definitely no' New York. I know wha' ye mean though. It'll be anuther place qui'e likely, an' yes, wit' tha same people, bu' _no'_ New York."

"And Draco will accept your decision?"

"'E'll 'ave ter, I'm afraid. I 'ope 'e'll ge' ter understan' why I wish 'im ter go. Narcissa gave me notice tha' Lucius's never been worse. 'E desperately misses 'is son, o' course, an' seeks refuge in alcohol. Las' summer already, 'e accused me o' 'avin' stolen Draco from 'im."

"That's a cruel thing to say – ", the girl's eyebrows narrowed.

"Tha's Lucius' way ter express failure.", he sighed. "An' if Draco doesn' go voluntarily, I fear I see no 'ope fer 'im ter ever recover. Bu' Draco knows o' 'is mother's strength an' 'is feelin's towards 'is father 'ave switched so drastic'lly wit'in a year tha' I see 'ardly any chance fer reversal. 'E's gotten ter acknowledge wha' Lucius 'asn' o' 'imself. Draco's grown up an' noticed 'is father's flaws. Bu' rather than tryin' ter understan' 'is position, rather than tryin' ter fergive Lucius, 'e's locked 'is shutters an' clung 'imself ter me. Lucius does no' understan' tha' I offered Narcissa me 'elp, fer ' _im_ rather than Draco at firs'. As much as Draco used ter believe I relished in 'is father's fall from tha ranks while 'e 'ad no idea tha' tha Dark Lor' ever preferred me over Lucius, as much Lucius does believe now tha' I 'ave imposed meself on Draco under tha disguise o' wishin' ter 'elp. 'E's jealous tha' I've go' a better relationship wit' 'is son than 'e 'as."

"Have you been jealous of Sirius?"

"No.", Severus answered honest to her conclusion. "I was really glad tha' Harry 'ad found sum'one. I still canno' fergive meself fer 'avin' been as prejudiced towards Sirius an' accused 'im o' bein' a traitor as everyone else 'ad."

"I can't really imagine what it was like for Harry to watch him die – "

"'E nearly died wit' 'im. Harry was born inter a 'orrible family, if no' tha wors'. 'Ere were times when I 'ad no doub' tha' we're seriously cursed."

"So that's why you protect me – ", for a moment they only stared into one another's wet eyes. "You don't want him to suffer the same like you did – "

"Yes, tha' is why.", he nodded mournfully and his teardrops weren't capable of saving one of them from falling anymore. "An' 'cause I really like ye."

~~#~~

"You know, I don't want to do this just for the sake of it.", with a smack, the bud splattered its juice all over his thick clothes, the cloth he had bound around his nose and mouth and the safety goggles he wore. "Oh shit – "

"Careful! Careful, Mr Malfoy!", Madam Sprout moaned over the table, but he wasn't the only one to be decorated with the bright blue substance. "You are supposed to collect it, not paint yourselves. Concentration, please."

"Sorry, Ma'am.", he replied.

"That's rich. I mean, look at her.", Hannah mumbled, completely clean so far.

"Yeah. She's not better, honestly."

"But she's right, Draco. You got to grab it cautiously right behind, you see, only with two fingers. Then bend it down over the jar, and very slowly – push in the needle. If you don't pull it out as slow, you'll have it splattering all over. So. That's that. You see that little drop here where I pulled? Squeeze it out from the front, bit after bit and really slow. That's pretty much the deal. Not difficult at all. You just need a calm hand and a lot of patience."

"Oh wonderful! Has everyone seen that? Would everybody just take a minute and see how Longbottom is doing it? Please demonstrate it again. They seem to not have seen it thoroughly past my podgy fingers."

"Alright, Professor.", Neville smiled under his cloth and squeezed out another, his robes and face still being as clean as Hannah's afterwards.

"Excellent! A good hand! Twenty points to Gryffindor. And Hufflepuff, if I take a look at that jar Miss Abbot has in front of her. Great work! Carry on.", Draco merely huffed and – failed at another, luckily not seen by Professor Sprout, who now looked along the table whether there was the possibility for more points to be awarded, but couldn't find any in the brown and blue group.

"Yeah. Great work. Seems you're both born for that. But what can I say,", he bent down the next bud, "I was trained to destroy, not to groom.", and that one burst open as well, though this time the majority of the sticky liquid landed inside the jar.

"That's a start,", Hannah chuckled and leaned over to kiss a part of his tight hood that wasn't sprinkled blue. "You'll get there, I'm sure."

"Probably. After a decade of constant piercing and squeezing. No, but honestly, I won't do that."

"I thought I remember you saying it's part of the game,", Neville murmured, successfully three buds further.

"I did. But you have to understand. Would you send your father straight into death?"

"No."

"There. I will trick him around if it's bringing us further, but I won't lead him into such a trap. That's cruel – and sick. We're no killers."

"Finally you admit?"

"Hey!", Draco hissed. "I never really wanted to kill him,"

"Okay, okay. I'll think about it. But that's going to need a whole different plan. Got to work that out with Ginny though. She's better at such. Seems to be in the famil- oh crap – "

"What's it?"

"Hannah, would you mind reaching over and give me a new needle, please? Mine's just cracked."

~~#~~

"That's awful,", she panted as she held herself to a tree and looked down into the long trench, through between rows of trees that were crossed like askew fangs in the very huge, broad jaws of some primeval monster.

"Dun' ge' closer, please. Like I said, I dun' wan' ter lose ye ter a tunnel."

"You said, you don't want _Harry_ to lose me to a tunnel."

"Jus' 'bou' tha same. Ge' ou' there, please."

"Okay.", she reached up for his held out arm and he easily pulled her up. "You're right. Sometimes you really shouldn't stretch luck too much. It's a miracle that it happened while we were on the walk. I never thought I'd say that, but thanks for making it compulsory. Incredible that this thing held where we dug it under the channel but that the old tunnel couldn't cope with some rain."

"'T's been 'undreds o' years ol'. I should've known tha' tha explosions would make it weak. An' it's been too close be tha shore. We're really lucky tha' nuthin' more 'appened."

They made their way further down the trench and she spotted something faintly blue deeper in the woods, but had to concentrate too much on the ground as to bother anything that was going on in the depths of the forest. Finally they reached the trench's end, where Severus securely helped Ginevra past the half corrie. That part was already far away from the lake, so it took them numerous minutes to reach the shore. Some grass under leaf carrying trees descended flat into the water and Ginevra startled from some movement by the roots of one of the trees closest to the water, a few of the thick roots standing into it like pipes into a well. With a slack gesture she meant Severus to stop and slowly approached the being.

Though having escaped some time ago, it seemed still used to human presence. It was easy for her to pick it up and even stroke it. By the look the toad gave her, she knew it had missed such touches. She carried it over to Severus who had sat down in the short, slightly moist grass and leaves from last year with his legs crossed. Both studied it sitting calmly in Ginevra's hands after he had supported her down onto his lap so she wouldn't drop it.

"Unbelievable!", the girl aspirated. "There's really no such thing as coincidence, is there?"

"I 'ardly think so.", Severus chuckled and brushed his right forefinger over the animal's head, which it visibly liked. "Ye should se' 'im free again though."

"Alright.", Ginevra meant, leaned forward and sat Trevor down, upon which he immediately jumped away, into the water and swam out of sight. "Neville's becoming more and more obsessed.", she considered with her eyes drifting over the surface that mirrored the cloudy sky above. "He wants us to plan how we can set effective traps for you and the Carrows. His ideas are reaching a lethal level already. You should watch out."

"Thanks fer tellin'. I'll keep an eye open."

"He and Seamus already installed a fully functional bolt gun spiked with poisonous arrows behind that one tapestry by the Gargoyle. The moment you stepped into the string, it would have pushed up the tapestry and nailed you to the other wall. Spied on them from around the bent, behind a suit of armour. When they were gone for a couple of minutes, I triggered it from there. It was some really impressive construction. You wouldn't have stood a chance. At least one of those arrows would have hit you. Draco told me he's trying to keep him on the ground, but he seems to listen to Hannah, rather. That's why they decided she should deliver all the messages he's got for Neville, making it look like she came on her own account. It helps, I think."

"Dun' worry 'bou' me, Ginevra.", she had turned her back on him and sunken to his chest, whereupon he had gently wrapped his arms around her and stroked her head.

"You can't stop me from doing so, Dad.", Ginevra held one of his arms close and fondled his hand as well, and naturally didn't miss the slight gasp. "You're alright?"

"I – it's – it's jus' – ", he muttered and though she didn't see his face, she knew he was fighting back tears and his breathing became heavy and halting. "Callin' me – "

"If it makes you feel better, I can just call you Severus.", she suggested, but he held her even closer.

"N-no – it's really – I dunno – like a – sunrise – a – an absolutely – stunnin' – incredibly beautiful – sun– "

He broke off in tears, his head nestled to hers as he continued stroking her and she moved her right hand up to his free cheek, gently brushing away the thick tears, firm, but tender and continuously.

~~#~~

Like so often, a fire burnt in the chimney to give the hall some warmth while it was pelting down with rain on the other side of the high windows. By one of them, a glass in hand, stood a tall blond man and counted the drops that ran past his eyes which were fixated on one spot. It was a white dot in some distance behind the blur, one of the peacocks that had meant to seek shelter by a hedge. Meanwhile his wife had moved her hand from his right shoulder to his cheek, but he only took another sip, showing the goblet more affection when all of his fingers enclosed it and held it to his heart.

"I can understand him, you know?", a faintly older woman said, leaning in one of the black leather armchairs with her legs crossed, twirling her dark hair with her wand. "The Dark Lord. That he locks you two in here. But I see no reason for him to – "

"For a moment it sounded as though you were questioning the Dark Lord's decisions,", her sister replied quiet, her eyes on her husband's profile while she fondled his absent face.

"You dare to – ", a slight shrillness drifted into her tone before she was cut off a second time.

"I merely said what it seemed like to me. No offence intended, Bella."

"I wouldn't advise you to offend me either,", Bellatrix continued hollow. "It makes me mad, you see?", she added, a little fierce again.

"Oh really? Forgive me, I had no idea how easily you get offended and rough."

"Mind your tongue, Cissy. You're not in the position to be snooty."

"As far as I see it, _I_ didn't change my tone several times within not even half a minute."

"Nitpicking?"

"Not nearly. After all, my affiliation with the Dark Lord has not changed over the past year. He is still as ignorant towards me as he ever was. Rather like you, if I may note, who has given her life for deepest devotion to him – just to be – well,", Narcissa turned her face to the window so neither would see the maliciously satisfied smirk that didn't reach her voice, "Dropped aside like a miscarriage and locked away from the world's sight."

" _You dare to –_ ", Bellatrix had leapt up, her wand pointing at her sister's back.

"There is no need for you to repeat yourself. I understood you clearly first time.", Narcissa remained calm. "And you don't want to torture your own sister, do you? You already plummeted morals. Try to keep your dignity a little higher, if that is still possible."

"She's right; you've fallen quite deep.", all three spun at him, not having noticed him standing in the open doorway until then.

"Oh look who's here!", cackled Bellatrix, her eyes shortly flicking to Lucius at the sound of chiming metal and breaking glass.

"Be careful – ", Narcissa gasped when he staggered towards his son immediately.

"Has he set his toy free?", Bellatrix sneered on.

"I'm no one's toy.", Draco countered grim. " _Rather like you_."

A second later, his slight anger left him in a gasp. Shaking, but still firm, a pair of arms was flung around him and a hand dug into his hair, pulling his head to another, after a thick kiss found its way on his cheek. Thrown off the track, he could only stare onto the dark, wooden floor further on the other side of his father's shoulder. He was used to the smell of the whine, but not to that. Completely petrified, he could not even return what he had never received before. It was over before he was actually aware of it, and, a firm hand on his left cheek, like it hadn't ever been either, he stared into the glassy eyes that were slightly greyer than his, a dazzled smirk of half open lips below.

"Hi Dad – ", he only breathed, confused by the different way his fathers' trembling fingers brushed over his face.

"Oh _is_ this touching,", Bellatrix mock wailed, making Lucius' smile freeze. "Now look at that. You care for him at last?"

Four wands, quicker drawn than their owners expected it, found their target in a split second. But only one made her collapse to her knees with a surprised scream. Panting a little, she looked at the source, in blind flight searching for her own wand which she had dropped.

"Sorry – ", the girl moaned, her formerly free hand on her mouth with wide open eyes. "It just – slipped me – "

"Who is this cow and who forgot to teach her manners!", Bellatrix shrieked and collapsed with a more terrifying cry before she could heave herself back onto her feet.

"Mind your _own_ manners.", Draco hissed when he had lifted the curse, but Bellatrix chuckled through her panting.

"You have learned, boy.", she grinned madly. "Yours was far better than that b-"

"Shut your mouth or I throw you out!", gnarled Lucius as she raised at last.

"You cannot throw me out, _Lucy_.", her conceited snarl was back and she slowly strutted towards the group by the entrance. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased, if you do so."

"He's said nothing about not dropping you in the rain.", Draco noted.

"Don't get arsey with me, kid. You're not your mother."

"As if you differed anyone you believe to be below you.", the girl who stood in the door, mumbled with her wand still raised.

"You filthy – "

"Easy!", Draco did a single step away from his father and stopped his aunt in place with his wand at her throat. "Dad may not really be in the condition to kick you down the main stairs, but I might, if you insult her again."

"Oh.", she fake sulked highly exaggerated. "Looks like the baby has found himself a girlfriend again!"

"Exactly. And she's my guest here. If you can't behave in front of guests, you'll have to leave the party."

"And who is this little bird now?"

"Hannah.", Draco answered coldly.

"Hannah who.", Bellatrix crossed her arms, unimpressed by his drilling wand.

"That's irrelevant. She's my girlfriend. You better get used to it alr– "

"Hannah Abbot.", her tone and expression were as dark as Draco's had been before she interrupted him.

"Abbot?", Bellatrix sang. "Don't tell me you're the bitch of – "

This time no scream followed the attack that made her go down. Narcissa's hands had clapped on her mouth and Lucius instantly lost all hints of colour that had been left on his skin. Too angry to fully realise that he had been in a similar situation only some months ago, Draco stared down on his aunt, an indescribable revulsion on his face as he watched her coughing blood. Not enough, flooded with rage and disgust, he reached for her hair and dragged her outside with a strength he hadn't known to possess, ignoring her screaming – and struggling, which only made her pain worse.

Outside, he simply pushed his foot into her back and returned to the hall as if it was an everyday thing for him to kick and let his aunt roll downstairs. Before he could close the door, she had fallen silent. He didn't care whether she had only passed out or actually died. It didn't even shock him that it just had been him to have done that, nor whom had watched it. Though he had an idea that if she survived, it wouldn't end well for him. However, there was still the hope she wouldn't remember the incident.

"What.", he grunted at the disbelieving chuckle of his mother, robbing the knuckles of his left hand. "It's war. She wants it, she can have it. And in case, I can still blame it on the blood."

~~#~~

Followed by stunned eyes, the hooded man climbed the marble stairs up to the high doors. The guards were so struck to see him that they forgot about their mandatory check. But he had nothing to fear from them anyway. His long cloak fluttered over the clean, mirroring marble floor as he paced through the alameda of wood, all sorts of shining metals and gems glistening from them in the light that fell into the huge hall from crystal chandeliers and a glass cupola above. Too busy, none of the small workers looked up. So he went unstopped, straight ahead to the rear end, where he would finally arrive on one of the counters and was greeted with equal surprise as at the entrance. He returned it courtly and placed the sealed envelope right between the knobbly hands.

Those fingers carefully tore the seal with one of their sharp nails after a security check on the authenticity and pulled out the folded paper. Dark eyes, far darker than his, scanned over the writing, a little suspicious. But in the end convinced of the genuineness of the listed signatures, he lifted his head and barred two lines of pointed teeth that separated for calling a colleague in their language. That one came scurrying along and received the paper from him, taking a quick look at it himself.

"Very well, Sir, if you would follow me,", the bald Goblin requested with his gnarling voice and led the man through one of the doors and into a cart that stood ready for them.

Cool turbulence dashed into their faces when they rushed further and further into the underground. The last time his reason for coming had been for depositing something. But now he had arrived with a greyish Mokeskin Pouch that had been lent to him for this specific job. War was expensive. Uniforms and armour needed to be manufactured, cracked or lost wands replaced, potions bought for the wounded ones. Their brewing couldn't be requested from one single person anymore. Too many were injured. Those generously set signatures were a great help and the massive donations would be honoured, at least by one.

Deep in the underground, far away from anyone's eyes, vault after vault was emptied, their content stored in the leather pouch, careful not to miss a single piece. All according to what had been written onto the paper above the signatures. Lastly signed and approved, by the Dark Lord – himself.

Goblins were famous for their natural greed. But it was nothing compared to that of sophisticated humans. They would pay for their greed, literally. No loss could be compensated in gold, but the bereaved were mostly poor, having had to leave everything behind which they had built up in decades of hard work. They deserved something for a living. They fought for their lives, not for pleasure. And those they fought against, were too busy with their precious war, just like the Goblins above were too busy with the treasures, so much they wouldn't even notice that Robin Hood had paid one result of their greed a visit.

In the last vault the pouch was slipped into another along with the list of generous signatures, both hidden from the eye, from that greedy world. Goblins were famous, for their greed and their secrecy. For the second, Robin Hood was as well. Blood money. It shall return to those who lost blood. Bit by bit. The world had enough for everyone to live a good life. The only flaw, human beings were generally terrible at dividing their resources. But they would learn, brutally, that only those who gave honestly would receive honestly – and those who took with greed, would eventually be victims of their own behaviour. It was a long process of understanding and human souls went through endless numbers of shells, ever suffering from that process, but there was hope in the world, faith in the world, hope and faith of those who had learned that lesson. And that was one of the strengths of mankind, that would lastly win, lastly, on Judgement Day.

With that knowledge, that faith, Robin Hood climbed out of the cart a last time and walked back past those rows of woods and shining, glistening treasures, under the busy noses of sheer uncountable Goblins, through the high doors, past the guards and down the marble stairs, still hooded, still covered, even though it was a bright day in the Easter Holidays. His long cloak travelled over the cobbles, his face now hidden like many were these days, hidden by a scarcely shimmering metal mask. Others in such disguise, on patrol, greeted with simple nods. He greeted them back, alike.

Everyone was busy, even out in the alley that was comparatively empty now, now that it was war. Still everyone was too busy to see, whether busy with quick purchases in the few stores that were opened, or busy with fear of being caught for various reasons, justified or not.

Like a miracle, bright and shiny, the joke shop stood there and, taking the one and other glance, customers scampered in and out like mice on the run from falcons. A paper bag with apparently just little food in one hand, his wand in the other, one of the owners came walking around the corner, too busy himself as well, to see the craving look of the woman that sat on the floor by the opposite building, her grey clothes torn and dirty like her face. Nursing her weak baby, her shattered eyes pleaded him, but he didn't see. Not until his own followed the hooded that crossed his way, followed him angrily, his wand clutched ready to strike, ready to defend himself. But what he did not see yet was, that this time, there was no reason. Nevertheless he called out, for the woman's defence instead, spotting her only then when the hooded knelt down to her and she slid backwards with anxiety.

"Hey! Gargoyle! Get away from her!"

His wand was at the stranger's back, but the woman's fear transformed to confusion, when a number of small objects was pressed into her hand and pale fingers shortly but gently caressed the chuckling child's head. She gazed up at him as he raised and turned for the ginger. Their eyes met in a brief moment. Then he walked on. No one had seen it. Too busy were the few other people in the wound alley. Through the grey clouds, a thin ray of sunlight fell, making the trumpet in the ginger's ear glisten for some seconds, like the golden Galleons in the woman's slack hand. There was hope.

"Hey. Gargoyle.", he called another time and Robin Hood turned back at him. "Good luck."

A faint nod, like he had given the others before, but much more honest, he turned another time. As faint, a smile glided onto the lingering pair's lips as well, and they looked at one another. Then each of them went into different directions. The ginger into his shop, the woman wrapped her child and Disapparated, and Robin Hood went further down the alley.

At a crossing, he turned into the next, went down the stairs, into the even more narrow lane, past a ruin that had hardly been touched in all those months that had passed since the silver handle of a cabinet had flown across the roofs and through a window, the silver handle that hung behind a frame over a stand of bright orange crystals, up in the twins' shop. Even fewer people were outside in the darker alley and he halted, almost unseen, but completely unbothered, in front of one of the sordid buildings. The old, part mouldy door gave in for him and he carefully climbed the creaking stairs until he reached another door among many, in a slightly better state in spite of the dust, dirt and spider webs surrounding it. His fist knocked three firm times.

Very slow, the lock clicked and the door was opened; behind, a man held up his wand with a shield conjured to his protection and though he had expected to find someone of that appearance in this door sooner or later, panic distorted his features. But it fell off at a simple act: his opponent had removed his mask.

"Forgive me, if I have scared you.", he spoke. "May I come in?"

"O-of course, y-yes! Do come in, Sir!"

"Thank you.", Robin stepped into the small, drab flat and finally pushed back his hood, freeing his shoulder-length bouffant hair when he had closed the door behind and it was securely locked by the other man.

"I cannot offer you too much, but a tea, perhaps? I might even have an old bottle of Scotch somewhere – "

"No need, I am fine, thank you."

"Oh please take a seat,", he hectically waved him to one of the two moth eaten armchairs at a scratched wooden table, the fireplace at their side, cold, empty and as dusty as the rest of the house.

"The new government does not seem to be too friendly to you."

"I have nothing to complain. I have a roof over my head, I live.", the man meant, nervous, when they sat down after the other had not bothered to hide from him that he cast more protective enchantments on the flat. "How can I help you, Sir?"

"You have done enough for me. I actually came to reciprocate."

"B-but what for?", he aspirated.

"By your present, you have done not only me a grand favour, but probably enabled my entire family to live a better life, and many others, if content of your work should effectively be used for turning our present situation into a lighter one."

"I don't quite understand – ", his confused smile didn't vanish yet.

"There have been rumours, that, like the former government banned your work for publishing texts about Dark Magic, the recent banned the rest for containing too bright – "

"Oh partly, that is true, yes.", he chuckled limply. "In sooth, they offered me to resume my work, if I could pay for publishing. I am a writer! Surely they must understand, that after confiscating all my work, my alls, I cannot account for any more publications! I – "

"I perfectly see the vicious circle, Mr Bullock.", his pale fingertips were meanwhile laid together and his legs crossed. "That is where I come into play."

"You, Sir? Of course I know of your influence among the Death Eaters, but – "

"I do not wish to sound like a braggart, but my influence,", he retrieved his black pouch and reached into both in one, "Mr Bullock, is by far bigger than you or anyone, even the Dark Lord himself, might be able to imagine in their weirdest, most peculiar dreams.", Bullock simply stared at the Gringotts sack that was sat down on the table. "One thousand Galleons, provided by none other than the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.", his eyes popped out even more on the name.

"Mr Yaxley?"

"Mr Yaxley. I believe, it should be enough for publishing your encyclopaedia at last and legally."

"But that is – ", he disbelievingly brushed over his untidy beard, "Mr Yaxley?"

"As I say. But he does not want to be credited, or thanked in any way. As a secret admirer of your work, he was eager to help when I informed him that I had knowledge of your whereabouts. He merely wishes your newest book published. I have informed Flourish and Blotts. You are awaited in the course of the day for arrangements of your cooperation."

"That is just – I – I don't know what to say – I – "

"Go and buy yourself some new robe.", he stood up and strolled over to the dusty window. "You deserve it. I have ever been a defender of proper educational work, Mr Bullock. Yours shall not be in vain. Your grandchildren should be able to say that they are proud of you, especially since you were too proud to admit to them that everything has been forcefully taken away from you. No one deserves having to exclude themselves from their family because of being ashamed of having been robbed."

"Alas, Sir, I – "

"You worked hard for convincing people of being open minded towards all and were disgraced for your courage. If a brutal regime cannot be brought down by being fought, it has to be infiltrated. Slowly and steadily. Because, even if its head shall fall, the minions will continue and another head will grow and rise to power. You cannot get rid of any fungal infestation by simply cutting off the fungi. You will have to poison the roots, silent, unseen, unsuspicious.", his eyes caught sight of some seriously bothering movement down in the alley, but he dissembled it. "Publish your encyclopaedia, Mr Bullock. Grant our children some thorough education."

"I cannot – express – how much – ", tears stood in his eyes when they followed his guest who came back.

"There is no need, Mr Bullock.", he smiled gently and took both his trembling hands, whereupon a sort of connection seemed to have been created between them. "No need. Just take care of yourself and your family. If there is anything you need, simply send and me an owl. I will make sure that it passes the security measures unnoticed."

"Thank you – ", Bullock aspirated and as he shook his aide's hands, the tears flowed down his cheeks, into his long beard. "Thank you, Mr Snape, thank you! And please send my gratitude to Mr Yaxley as well, regardless of how much he wishes to hear or not. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, Mr Bullock. I wish you a Happy Easter, and good luck for your further life."

"So do I wish you! Thank you! May you be blessed!"

Severus only nodded, conjured his mask from thin air, put it on and covered his head with his hood again. Then he left, quickly. No time for running, he flew downstairs and the front door made way another time for him. The small group stood not far ahead in the lane. They had cornered and confronted the man already, bound him with an Anti-Disapparition Jinx, as it seemed, but he had conjured a domelike shield over himself, ready to resist.

"And you think that will help you?", one of the masked snarled. "You're outnumbered, Werewolf! No chance!"

"We'll see, who doesn't stand a chance. Dolohov, isn't it? I know it's you. That mask doesn't make your voice more angelic. That's for Hermione!", he slashed his wand upwards and Dolohov fell to his knees under a horrible scream of pain when the spell hit his chest under his thick robe.

"Dark Magic? You use it?", he had landed behind the group and all of them spun around while one of them was quick-thinking enough to kneel down and Disapparate with Dolohov for medical aid.

"I dun' believe me eyes!", laughed one of them, his accent giving him away. "You? Here?"

"Let us say, I needed some fresh air. What would be better than inhaling the pleasurable smell of Knockturn Alley?", the others added their own laughs, though one made sure, their victim couldn't run away with his shield by gluing his shoes to the cobbles. "Lunch break?", however, Remus gave his laces a faint flick and tried to get out of his shoes as slow and with as few moves as possible.

"So to say."

"Well, we might quite likely face a rare phenomenon here. It appears, London has set lunch to five in the evening? You better get back to useful work, Lysander. So should all of you. Believe me as I say, I can deal with that cub alone. There are some, ah, _personal issues_ left to be sorted out between us. You surely understand. I am certain, so will the Dark Lord."

"And how I understand. He's yours. Come on, guys. The puppy's in best hands. Say farewell to the world, wolfie!"

He added an imitation of a howling wolf and with some more laughter, the Death Eaters Disapparated, leaving the two completely alone in the alley. The slightly bluish shield flickered and collapsed and a hand grabbed his before he realised that either bond had been lifted as well.

"What the – where are we? Where did you bring me? Let go of me!"

Remus struggled heavily, but Severus just pushed back his hood and took off his mask which fell to the floor with loud clattering like Remus' wand, while pressing him against the greyish white archway between the dusty rooms. Hating himself, he did the only thing he knew to work. Clearly shocked at first, Remus resisted for some seconds, but then he gave in and returned his passionate kissing. However, his leg was ferociously pushed down when he had attempted to wrap it around Severus' waist and Severus pulled back, panting heavily.

"Never,", he champed with rage, "Ever, force me to do that again, you hear me?"

"Severus – what – "

"What in blazes have you been doing in Knockturn Alley, you moron!"

"I – I just came from buying a new dress for Dora. You know, she's really round already. I don't think it'll be long. But then I saw you enter Gringotts – and waited for you to come. Took you quite a time in there,"

"As if I don't know.", Severus huffed.

"I followed you. Why did you give that woman money? And what did you do in that house? I waited outside again, but then this pack came along – "

"I believe, Hermione has tried to provide you all the answers to those questions months ago already.", Remus just eyeballed him, unable to find words to negate that truth. "The Order isn't dead,"

"You say.", he chuckled flatly. "More than half of us are dead. And you killed – "

"I am well aware that I had to kill our leader.", Severus murmured, keeping up the eye contact. "But the Order, Remus, isn't dead. Though Ted is.", it took Remus some moments to catch that message.

"What?", he aspirated.

"Snatchers killed him almost a month ago."

"No."

"He went on the run."

"I – I – know – ", Remus whimpered.

"But was caught. They killed a Goblin who was with him – and – ", Severus took a deep breath, "And Dirk."

"D-Dirk?"

"Yes. I – saw his Patronus die. So did Ginevra."

"Ginny?"

"He sent me the message when she was around. He could just tell me what happened. He was in a similar situation like you, but in a forest. Somehow he managed to run away and send me that Patronus, but a Killing Curse hit him."

"No – "

"You think, I don't know how many of us are dead? I know far more than you do.", snarled Severus.

"And now?", Remus breathed deeply, but it was obvious he had serious problems doing so. "What is this place here anyway?"

"I grew up here.", at last he backed away, but unfortunately had to push Remus to he arch again because the latter's knees had refused to carry any weight.

"Rather empty, isn't it?"

"I emptied it. I no longer live here, but still pay the rent in case it is necessary. Completely unsuspicious. I have renewed various enchantments at the site shortly after my mother's death and did so again, betweenwhiles. You cannot enter through the doors or windows, even when they are open. You can only Apparate inside, and only people I have brought in personally before. It has been some kind of experiment of mine and it seems I succeeded. If Tonks and you ever need a place to go, you may use it."

"Thanks – ", he meant slack, examining his surrounding.

"Can you stand now?"

"I think so."

"Good. If you need something, knock on the table in the living room.", Remus pointed on it with a clearly sarcastic chuckle. "Yes, that is a table. It's connected to the Hogwarts Kitchens. Dobby will be pleased to serve you. Running water's in the kitchen behind. I'm up in the shower. Hadn't any in a week. I had to make sure Neville doesn't overdo himself. He's on his own, now that I sent Draco home early and Ginevra is hiding in my old office apart from lessons."

"What?"

"I'll tell you everything when I brought you home."

"O-okay – er Severus?", he stopped him on the first stair.

"Yes?"

"Mind if I used that bathroom after you?"

"If you really use it _after_ me, no."

~~#~~


	53. Chapter 52 - The Flaw

– Chapter 52 –

 **The Flaw**

While Remus appeared to be rather drinking the water than letting it run outside over his body, Severus sat on his old desk, up in his old small room like he had done so many times before he had fled to Rügen. Meanwhile the sky had almost cleared up and a beautiful sunset was about to begin its wondrous play across the identical roofs. Nothing had changed.

But of course, everything had changed since he had said goodbye to Lily down in the street, not telling her that she wouldn't be seeing him on the next day, or probably ever again. But there was at least some luck, some light, and it was this light's fault that he had a wonderful, brave son who now was somewhere out there, trying to save the world from inside a tent that travelled with him and his best friends, probably having washed his hair on the same day, causing it to stand in various directions as though he had been greeted with one of the Weasley twins' Shock Shakes.

"Severus?", he had found him in his tight asylum, but Severus didn't turn yet. "Damn it – it's been quite a time since I've seen your hair like that. Wait – do you – do you wear – ", Severus spun his entire body in his cross-legged posture.

"Yes?"

"Red?", Remus aspirated.

"Do you mind?"

"Oh – no, no.", the Werewolf blinked when Severus slid off the desk.

"Did you clean the tiles?"

"I did. Magically, if you don't mind."

"I don't."

"Er – what are you – "

Severus had pulled his wand and the moist towel in Remus' hand left him, coming to float in the middle of the tight room where a gush of water soaked it. It wrenched itself, but the dripping liquid became a smooth ball shortly below. That soared out and vanished down the toilet next door while the towel was spread in midair again, drying quickly under a stream of hot air. Done, Severus summoned both towels, stored them in his pouch he had carried openly on his chest and let it vanish then.

"That was quite impressive,"

"Don't make me laugh.", Severus snorted. "It was minor magic,"

"But it – "

"If you hope you can charm me into your arms, you're just slightly hoping in vain.", he stepped closer and, though unsure whether it was wise, gently laid his hand on Remus' right cheek. "I told you, often enough, I think."

"But – "

"Stop moaning – _Moon Pup_.", Remus gulped. "You love her. She's about to give birth to your child.", he meant to protest, but Severus had no intention listening to that again. "No, you listen closely. You have responsibility now. Don't be such a fool and let your child grow up without love. The first few weeks are the most important in a child's development. You don't want to be one of those guys who impregnate a woman and then drop her alone with it all."

"Why do you even care. It's not your child. What do you know about parentage anyway."

"Believe me, I know more about it than you prefer. If you dump your child in that world now,", Severus couldn't prevent his quiet voice from starting to tremor.

"It won't be alone – "

"I said, _listen_. If you dump your child now, you will regret it until you take your last breath.", blowing out one alike, he lightly shook his head and, biting his lip, let go of Remus' face to turn away. "If I was to talk about it, I could give you two grand examp– ", shocked, he stared back at the other man – Remus had grabbed the pouch around his neck for keeping him in place.

"I can't – what if – "

"Don't start with that again,", he took Remus' hand, loosening his grip, which resulted in the palm lying flat against his heart, but he didn't bother. "If that is the case, it is crucial that you don't leave her alone with the child."

"But she can't look after two – ", Severus' left hand was back on Remus' cheek.

"You know as much as I do, that Lycanthropy cannot be inherited. _The child will not be a Werewolf_."

"But all the signs – "

"But, but, but – I'll bet my bum on that."

"Er – "

"If your child turns at the first full moon, you may lay me as often as you like to."

"Really?"

"Remus!", Severus hissed, actually upset about the sudden glistening in his eyes and squeezed his shoulder instead. "For once be a wise man and decide for your child!"

"Alright, I get it, you're selfless enough to not want anyone being trust with a fate like yours.", Severus only glared at him. "Look, Lily told me about your fath– what was that?", he frowned.

"What was what.", Severus huffed coldly and dropped both hands, though Remus' left remained on his chest.

"That – did it just – "

"Did what just what."

"It jumped!"

"Would you mind speaking in whole sentences?"

"Your heart! It – it jumped!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"No – it jumped – clearly – when – when I said – that Lily – ", Remus gasped. "There! Oh goodness, no.", he aspirated, staring straight into Severus' eyes, who tried to keep them as blank as possible. "You don't – oh my god – oh come on, it doesn't help that you turn your face into an emotionless wall, I clearly felt it! Twice! You – you really love her! You – really – _still_ – love her – "

He indeed felt his heart pounding wildly against Remus' flat hand, being enough for him to know he didn't stand a chance if he couldn't get his feet to move. Even worse, the other grabbed his shoulder now, just as if Remus knew that he fought for the urge to storm away.

"And?", Severus breathed, as depleted as if a battle laid behind him, and actually it did. "You still have feelings for me too; even bigger than then."

"How could you – ", whispered Remus sadly, his lips trembling. "How could you – and – and Hermione?"

"What about her.", there was a long pause in which Remus only stared at him, and strangely, he couldn't stop himself from staring back.

"She worshipped him – if you still love her that much, after so many years – how could you have possibly killed Albus – goodness – if Harry knew that you – what was that?", this time, Severus said nothing; he had felt it too – and could downright see the puzzle setting itself together behind Remus' eyes and he shook his head wildly, at last backing away. "No. No! Not possible!", though the bridge between their eyes remained, even when Remus lowered his head, brushing his hand over his moustache on the shocking discovery. "No, that can't be. I mean, you were just destroyed – you – I thought, you had – needed something living to hold on – and the fact that he's her son made – no – I mean – but he – he looks – so much – like – "

Severus carefully wiped his long hair behind his ears, but brushed up the few shorter bundles, emphasising the natural habit of the thick waves, then took his reading glasses from his pocket and put them on. With a slack smile, he lightly pushed the tip of his nose from below. Then the smile grew into a smirk, which however didn't lose its sadness with the increase of the arrogant expression. Remus trailed all his fingers through his already very greying brown hair. Severus let go of his nose.

"Now, wha' did Lily tell ye 'bou' me father? She told ye tha opinion o' a nine-year-ol', who'd stuck wit' 'is opinion fer a lon', lon' time. Ye wan' ter know why me father started drinkin' again? Why 'e bea' me mother? Why 'e treated me like mud? 'Cause she'd made 'im agree! 'Ey'd 'ardly enough ter feed 'emselves, an' 'en two children? If it 'adn' been fer 'er h'ar', she'd 've given us both away."

Away, that was where Remus turned. Hardly able to walk, he shuffled over to the bed, where he sank down with his face in hands.

"An' we both fell in love wit' one an' tha same girl, who turned ou' ter love us equally before she even knew we were brothers – twins, ter be precise. She din' care, whom she would 'ave a child wit'. We were both 'er family, an' she was ours – mine especially, after Mum died. An' 'en James' adoptive paren's were carried off be Dragon Pox. Lily was 'ere fer us, in any way she could, 'cause it din' matter ter 'er, no' tha' she was married ter one o' us already. 'Twas nature at las', tha' decided."

"And – we all – thought it – was a – "

"Miracle? Well, I tell ye sum'thin'.", Severus fiercely slipped his glasses back into the pocked, stomped over and sat down by Remus' left. "Harry _is_ still a miracle. An' I am no' talkin' 'bou' 'is fate; 'e is _my_ lil miracle – an' I 'ave ter pay tha full price fer me determinedness ter make an end ter Tom Riddle's life. She made me _swear_ , tha' I would no' brin' Harry close ter me dangerous life, bu' protec' 'im as much as I can. I tried – hard – ter be a father – wit'ou' makin' 'im notice – I tried so 'ard ter bea' me flaws 'e inherited, ou' o' 'im – an' – an' I think I did qui'e a good job. Ye know 'is attitude towards life,", Remus gazed up at him, as much in tears as he was now. "I 'ave done me bes' ter make 'im a better person than I am. An' look wha' 'e is."

For a very long while, they only remained sitting on Severus' old bed, which just fitted into the room, ever since his mother had found herself forced to enlarge it for matching his size. Lastly their tears were dried, and Severus raised, walking over to the desk by the window. He stored the pouch, bound his hair together with three rubber bands at once, picked up the Volto Mask that still laid there with Remus' curious stare fixated at him, and put it on. Now a red hood covered the rest of his head neatly and he held out his hand for Remus to take it.

"What the f– "

"You cannot Apparate us directly to the house. And once inside the shield, I would have to make us visible again. It is quite likely that they will attack me if I should confront them with myself openly. But I won't let you go alone either. You would have to create an immense lie about where you have been gone for so long or how you received notice of Ted's death. Not imaginable if you actually had to use this place as a refuge. Do yourself a favour and be honest to your wife. Especially now. She needs trustworthy people around."

"Alright,"

Convinced, Remus got up as well, stepped forward, took his hand and they were gone with a careless _crack_ , appearing with the same in a group of trees by the stream. They crossed the small bridge under the orange and blue sky of dusk, towards a small meadow that seemed to host no visible housing. But then Remus pulled him past the Fidelius Charm and the house appeared out of nowhere. Lights were shining from inside already and Andromeda, her wand held out, had opened the front door at the notice of an arrival.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got held up."

"Identification!", she yelled.

"Oh – damn it, forgot. I am Remus John Lupin, bitten by the Werewolf Fenrir Greyback when I was a child and I have insisted on starting that crap with the identification."

"And who's that?", Tonks had squeezed herself past her mother who had lowered her wand right when she had raised hers, both without noticing the fact.

"It's fine.", they let go of each other's hands and walked closer. "It's a friend. You'd be totally shocked, but there's really nothing you need to fear. Didn't believe it first either, he saved me from quite a number of Death – Eaters – "

Tonks had been faster. Her big, with pink cotton covered belly matching the colour of her short hair, she tripped down the two stairs, but immediately composed herself, stomped forward over the grass before either of them could decide how to react, seized the mask from below with her free hand and quickly tore it up and backwards off his head along with the hood.

"Ow! You do realise that I can't shrink my nose like you, do you?", he moaned when she gasped, and rubbed said part of his face.

"You!", her head rushed between the two men.

"It's fine, Dora. He's on our side, really."

" _You!_ ", she shrieked louder.

"Yes, I.", Severus rolled his eyes.

" _You_ saved him from Death Eaters?"

"He did.", Remus confirmed, and was as stunned as Severus when she flung her arms around his neck and hung on him as close as her belly would allow her to.

"Thank you.", Tonks aspirated when Severus carefully patted her back. "If I can do anything in return – "

"You could let go of me and give me back my mask. It was a present."

"Oh – sure – ", she snickered, hopped backwards and he gladly took the mask from her. "Is that a real one?"

"It is not a conjured mask that will disappear when I die, if you mean that."

"No, I – I mean, a real one from Italy?"

"Yes, it is real, bought; or so I hope; in Venice by my best friend."

"You got a best friend?", she chuckled catching herself a malevolent glare. "Sorry. So? You're on our side? Dirk's got it all right then? He kept trying to tell everyone that there's something strange about you _supposedly_ having killed Dumbledore. Seems, he's grown rather fond of you for using his body, hasn't he?"

"He has done that?"

"Yeah. Until he went on the run because they wanted him for being Muggle-Born. Never heard of him since. Hope, he's doing well. But sure he is.", he and Remus exchanged a quick glance she didn't catch. "Come on in!", she waved them when she started walking. "Mum's made supper. Oh don't give me that look. We'll stuff our faces and you can tell us all the truth 'bout what's really happened between you and old Dumby that you had to send him across the fence."

"She's practically in a constant cheer,", Remus commented her lively voice in a whisper. "If she doesn't try to tear me apart."

"I am quite familiar with the idiosyncrasies of a pregnant woman,", Severus mumbled back as they followed her. "The question is, whether we should actually tell them. Personally; though I have asked you to be honest; have grown an aversion to crashing parties, especially in times each smile is like replacing one of the Seven Wonders. I would say, you wait until the child is born."

"No. There's a broadcast of Potterwatch tonight."

"I know."

"You know? You're following it?"

"Not directly. That would be dangerous. But I know someone who does and reports every detail to me. Ironically, today's password will be `Albus´, in case you didn't catch it."

"Well, then you'll have to understand. I have to send the message out. It just wouldn't do them justice. Especially since it'd be relayed from here."

"What?", Severus hissed and Remus closed the door.

"Yes."

"What's that chat you're having there?", Tonks sang across the friendly lit living room when she had been thrown out of the kitchen by her mother.

"Nothing.", they grumbled at once.

"Uuuuuh. Man-to-man talk. Mind if I'd disturb?", she grinned, but Severus found her general flashing appearance disturbing enough anyway.

"Not at all.", he smirked and pushed Remus down onto a chair next to her at the laid table.

"What're you doing? Oh no, keep out of there! That's her empire. Sharp dog inside."

"I've been screwed by a Werewolf once. There's nothing that can scare me away anymore."

"Er – how's he meaning that?", Tonks chuckled and Remus robbed one of his longs scars to cover up his blush.

"Take it as you like it.", Severus sang and disappeared in the kitchen, where he came just in time to snatch a dishtowel and hold it under the heavy terrine Andromeda had nearly dropped.

"Oh my goodness, thank you. I forgot how heavy it was. And I've been only minutes out of the kitchen.", he carried it out for her and she got additional dishes for him. "I hope, you will find something to your liking. Nymphadora has become almost like Remus in terms of meal preferences. I wonder, whether it is the child. Because that is what Remus fears most, you see? But on the other hand, when I carried her, I had to behave a lot as well and gained about twenty pounds. I still push half of it ahead.", she sighed. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll take myself a glass of water, if I may."

"Of course you may. They are – up there, yes. Oh I forgot, you have been here before."

"Yes. Some time passed, but I still have a fairly good memory."

Severus smiled and helped himself to his plain drink when she brought the rest of the supper to the table. They sat down together then, but Andromeda stopped her daughter from digging in.

"Oh Mum – can't you leave it for once?"

"No, I insist."

"What is this about?", Severus asked.

"Mum's gone paranoid. She wants to speak a prayer at each meal. At least she skips breakfast."

"You should let your mother do then."

"It's so killing the spirit,"

"If a prayer gives her strength, you will have to let her do, unless you want to lose her to insanity."

"She's already gone insane.", Tonks muttered under her breath.

"Thank you, Severus.", Andromeda sighed, pretending not to have heard the add; they folded their hands. "Saints of God, come to our loved and befriended ones' aid. Come to meet them oh all you angels. Receive their souls and present them to God the Most High. Amen."

"Amen.", the other three repeated, but Severus being the only one apart from her to make the sign of the cross, and having realised by Tonks' glances that she normally must be speaking other kinds of prayers.

"I had no idea you were that religious,", Remus meant as they started filling their plates.

"Usually I am not, although I was raised with the traditions of both Christians and Celts – which had probably been one of my big advantages in my History exams. But at times it just helps praying to something that has no exact proof of existence. Because maybe there is someone on the way to catch it up. I do however believe that some sort of – ah – _angels_ exist. I do believe that death is not the end and that we will all meet again at a certain point in time. Whether we recognise one another for whom we had been, is anyone's guess. I do not fear death, not at all. There are enough people I would like to see again. But I will nevertheless take care that as many good souls as possible are granted a secure future before I leave."

"New I nou wad Mad-Eye meand.", Tonks munched. "Alwaysh in for a shurprishe you are."

~~#~~

Leaving had been no pleasure. But staying had been the same. So he had gone, before the others had arrived for the broadcast. Though a horrible thought slid into his mind when he sat at that table in the cellar – unrolled itself like Nagini when she was ready to serve her master, ready to strike for death to come. His death.

"'T's me faul'.", he muttered, his heavy head resting on his palm, while the other hand was held fatherly by Aberforth's.

"It's not your fault."

"Everyone who knows tha truth 'bou' me dies. I'm no' ter tell anyone anymore – "

"Codswallop."

"No."

"Really, that's something absolutely absurd to say, boy. There's quite a big deal of people who know and live on."

"Tha war's no' over ye'."

"Don't drive yourself mad with rubbish, because that's what it is. Complete rubbish. You should listen to yourself."

"Well, I do!", Severus moaned.

"Then tell me, what do you hear there, eh? Stupid is it. And it makes you sick. Don't sicken yourself with idiotic theories. I know, you've lost another friend, but so have I. Do I look like I'm cursing myself?"

"Tha's 'cause ye dun' 'ave any reason ter curse yerself."

"Exactly. Nor have you. It's that Snatcher's fault. Not yours, not mine, not _his_ , even though he's commanding 'em. It was that one Snatcher who murdered him consciously, without hesitation probably, and if that is so, he's the only one to blame. Go to bed, Severus. Take some Sleeping Potion, if necessary. You need to rest. You need to be strong for what's to come."

"An' wha's ter come? Nuthin' I 'aven' 'ad fer me entire life – "

"I know you don't deserve that,", Aberforth lightly shook his head, and Severus saw this big resemblance he probably wasn't even aware of himself, "But some of us are weighted with a burden even a hundred of others wouldn't be able to carry together. You say yourself that everything's got a reason, in the end. They won't have died for nothing. And if _I_ have to go out there and slay every single Snatcher for the chance of getting the one who's killed Dirk or Ted.", a hollow chuckle escaped Severus. "Listen, boy. You still got friends. You're not alone. You don't need to fight this monster on your own. Don't be the same fool as Harry was.", at last, his head fully raised, leaving his palm empty, but his eyes still glistening with tears as salty as the sea of devastation that had caused them. "He too believed he was to do that alone, but had to learn to having gotten it all wrong. He's not alone out there either. If he was, he wouldn't stand a chance. Don't let your grief make you forget that there're still friends around among the living."

Severus nodded slackly and stood up with a sigh, drying his tears while he walked around in the small room that was lit magically by a fair number of floating white light bulbs. Aberforth had conjured them so as to cheer him up. Neither of them really listened to the wireless that stood on the table. Severus studied his miserable reflection in a mirror on the wall. It was missing a shard. Just like him. Though only one. He wasn't whole either, but he was missing far more than a single shard. The radio fell silent.

"I'll get him for that one day, the bloody coward.", said Aberforth.

"No. 'T's no' a crime ter run away when incapable o' facin' thin's, an' if it was yer own mistakes. Tha crime is ter carry on no' differin' o' whom ye take. Tha crime is ter steal o' those who dun' 'ave anythin', fer tha mere chance ter ge' those who 'ave too much ter buy sum' o' tha'. 'Is crime is 'is blind greed. Tha' 'e doesn' do it fer survivin' anymore, bu' ter gain. Tha's wha' will – o fodder – "

"Severus?", he didn't hear him much and he was panting heavily at the blood chilling sensation. "What's – "

"Sum'one's – sum'one's said 'is name – "

And he knew who it had been this time, by the panic that erupted in his heart. More and more of this panic became his own and he whirled around, like being chased by aggressive birds, unable to control it, unable to hear Aberforth whom he barely saw getting onto his feet. But there was something else. Something was happening out there, something that was even further from his control. He was losing him, every few moments. He drifted off, as though he was sliding into quicksand, but getting hold of some branches above, he lost grip of just after. He could hardly breathe and some strange pressure was working on his face. Questions thundered his ears, questions he didn't understand, but he knew some part of him to answer, far away.

Meanwhile Severus was leaning against the wall by the mirror, not feeling his own weight on his shoulder and Aberforth in a haze of dark fog, had closed up. He saw his hand moving towards his other shoulder, but didn't feel that touch either. Whirls of colour and the feeling of being squeezed into some thin pipe. He had Disapparated, but not out of danger, that much Severus knew.

Darkness all around, the room he was actually standing in just visible by the dots of light dancing above, Aberforth reduced to a pair of flashing blue eyes that was rather close. It had never been that bad before. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was fighting against thoughts that weren't his.

Harry's mind was mingling with another, the one on the other end yet seemingly unaware or ignorant of it. There was again a voice, but it was distant, as if he himself was buried under tons of water and the voice was shouting from the surface. In a blur, he saw Aberforth's lips move, recognised them to say something, but not perceiving what it meant. There was one and the same movement in between, many times, and he considered it might have been his name.

Then there was something more, mixing into the chaos. Another one's fear, crawling from his hand and his feet, up to his heart. Fear that was attempted to be locked out – and Severus knew where they had been brought, knew who Harry was facing now. There was this feeling he knew quite well. He had had it any time Draco had been wandering the castle, up to the Room of Requirement, anxious, hoping to not be caught – someone was forcing him to do what he didn't want, but Draco was resisting.

Confusion twirled in. Harry's confusion. Even if he had been able to move, he wanted to know what was going on. He concentrated purely on the scene that was happening far away. Aberforth's eyes were gone. He had shut his own before him, so he could feel properly what kind of issue there was being discussed. It seemed they were meaning Draco to identify Harry, but he – refused. Vaguely, but he did. There was chance. There still was a chance, Severus knew. And then Harry was drifting into darkness, his thoughts sorting themselves. He was thinking. Severus did his best to shut away Draco's emotions. That made his hand burn, but he ignored that heat that tried to melt it from the inside. What counted now, was Harry. Not Draco, not that hand that was squeezing his left upper arm, not – Luna?

Severus' eyes shot open, momentarily blinded by the light bulbs that were still floating above their heads. In front, as soon as he could see better again, he found Aberforth to be standing, looking straight at him, the old face being a twisted mess of emotions as well. His lips moved, but Severus still didn't hear a word that left them. That was where they had brought Luna!

He cursed himself. He cursed himself so badly for not having thought of that place. Now, it was so obvious that they would have brought her to the headquarters. The cellar was safe, it was enchanted to hide Lucius' material secrets. The best prison, away from the official, and even safer as no Dementor would be tempted to attack.

In the moment he realised, something more moved in the corner of his eye and he turned his head for it. So did Aberforth, standing right before the mirror. Severus' heart leapt. Utter despair was woven into the voice, but that did not matter now. All that mattered, was the sound – hearing that voice again, after so many months – having heard it last when Harry had meant to prevent the doe from walking away. It warmed his shaking body, made it stop trembling, no matter the fear in its depth – and tears stood once more in his eyes, tears of happiness, partly, and he ignored that knot in his throat, clinging to every syllable that came moaning from the mirror, regardless of the terror.

Aberforth let go. He saw him blinking, then turn backwards to lean to the wall himself. Harry was gone. From his view, but not from his heart, not from his head. He was still there. Not as strong as before though, but enough to know he was safe for the moment. He studied Aberforth, who seemed troubled, swamped by the whole situation. His head turned for him and their unlike eyes met. Something like a puzzle being set together, was going on behind these flashing blue eyes; as grand as what had happened when Remus had discovered Severus' secret only hours ago; and revealing another similarity to the old man's dead brother. Aberforth was figuring it out, putting piece by piece together, getting the clue, like Remus.

"That – that can't be coincidence, can it?", the old man whispered, but Severus was back to his own mind.

"Tha's unimportan' now.", he said, confident again, and striking him with a single look.

"Fine, if you say so – DOBBY!", Aberforth yelled into the room and with a loud _crack_ the Elf suddenly was there, a little bustled. "Listen to me. You need to Apparate into the cellar of Malfoy Manor, please. Harry's captured there. Get him out."

"H-Harry P-Potter?", Dobby muttered. "I will be there in a second!", and with another of his ear trashing Apparating sounds, he went.

Some more moments they remained in silence, with dancing lights above, their hair shimmering. So much difference. Aberforth's so light, his eyes so shining bright, while Severus' were dark, and far younger – but either bore all the marks of their past. By the look on Aberforth's face though, he understood that the man finally realised who had seen more in his life. Who had seen worse. And it made Severus sad, having to see the awareness, the guilt in those blue eyes. Much more than it had ever done so with his now dead older brother.

"I – I'm goin' – jus' in case.", Severus said hastily then, but Aberforth's hand on his shoulder once more, held him back. "Listen, if 'ey call tha Lor' an' Harry's no' there anymore,"

"No, Severus, you listen. I understand that you – er – really like that boy – but it's dangerous what you're doing."

"No' more dangerous than wha' I did in September."

"And what did you do in September?"

"Probably tha crazies' thin' I'd ever – ", he slightly winced at the feeling, his breath sucked in without intention.

"What's – "

"She's called 'im – "

"What do you mean – "

"Bellatrix – she's called 'im – I – I need ter go – "

"No, Severus – ", but he wrenched himself free and shot upstairs before Aberforth could get hold of him another time.

The door above crashed open and once outside, he Apparated to the outskirts of the manor with a horrible pain that nearly made him fall from the sky. His heart was set on fire, burning in the flames of hell and as the hedges were getting closer and fearing they might catch fire by his mere closeness, he could just compose himself before he crashed into them. Some black whirls shot past above him, unaware of his presence.

Severus rushed up again, trying hard to lock out the agony that was infesting him, wanting no more than catching up with that fog that crossed the barrier before him. The front doors burst open, like Harry's heart in that moment. But when Severus sat down himself, his feet meeting hard with the gravel, that pain transformed into the panic from minutes ago. Not meaning to be heard, he snuck through the lobby, over to the broad staircase. The fog was gone, upwards. Right when his left foot touched the lowest step, he nearly toppled over. That horrible feeling – he had had it too often himself, too often to bear – and he knew what must have happened. He saw nothing but red – and then green – green eyes, glistening like stars, far bigger than Harry's, just in a split-second flash –

Half leaning on the stairs, fingers digging into the handrail and stones beneath, his own eyes were filling with tears another time. He fought them, knowing that this was not the moment for him to cry, knowing it by Draco's feelings that hit him, by the voices from above, by the screams. And he literally took his feet in hand, set off again, flew upstairs, into the drawing room from where the voices came. He didn't pay attention to what Voldemort was yelling. He stopped at the door only to see the skeletal hand and wand directed at Draco, who was unarmed, no way out against the window-side wall, his white face covered in thin rivulets of blood.

In the second the lipless mouth opened for yelling the incantation, there was a black and white rush from the corner, passing him with a speed the man had never before gained in his life and he leapt between, taking the full force of the curse, collapsing to his knees with a sickening cry of pain. Draco's hand clapped on his own mouth, to cushion his cry as he had to watch his father being tortured instead, thick tears making the blood flow faster below his bluish grey eyes while his mother sunk behind an armchair, taking shelter when Voldemort spun for the next victim.

That was his chance. He flew over to his friend, in the blind angle of the eyes torn by rage and dragged him away across the floor, over to where Narcissa crouched. Bellatrix jumped aside with a terrific scream and the next curse hit the Werewolf, who was surprised by the force of it, unable to resist it either. His howling cries were enough to deaden Severus' footsteps when he ran for Draco who had then sunken to the floor below a window.

"I'm – I'm fine – ", he coughed quiet enough not to be heard by anyone but him over Bellatrix's screaming now, his anxious eyes on his trembling father. "Just – the chandelier – "

"Where is Hannah?"

"Hogwarts – sent her back – before – "

"And – "

"They're gone – the three – and Griphook – Dobby came – "

"I know. Harry called for help. Aberforth sent him.", meanwhile, Narcissa tried to get Lucius to his feet and out of the hall through a door on the other side.

"I think he got Luna and Dean out first, and Olivander – Harry's got my wand – and Bella's – what?"

"Cue."

"Cue?"

"Send a Patronus to Bill Weasley. He shall immediately take his parents and sister to their aunt Muriel. I'll wake Ginevra then. She can get there via Floo. I connected my fireplace securely to all safe houses long ago and no one knows she hasn't gone home yet."

Draco hastily but careful not to give any sign, pointed Severus' wand at the skirting board of the wall they sat at and hidden by Severus' cloak, in the wonderful distraction of Greyback's screaming when Voldemort couldn't find any other without turning, the silver flash sped through. Two seconds later, he had his wand back and the tail of the otter disappeared likewise.

Severus used the rest of their granted timeframe to summon all shards from Draco's face and hands, his cry unheard, and healed the wounds without much effort. It was then that Voldemort decided to spin around and point his wand at where he remembered Draco to have been. But as though Severus had sent an impulse to make him falter; what he hadn't, at least not consciously; Voldemort staggered to halt from his own move, his eyes wide open with a flicker of real horror now, the anger seemingly swept away in no time.

Seeing him there, sitting by the boy, his guarding arms laid around him, did something to Voldemort he visibly didn't understand himself. And then he lowered his wand, the panting of the others or the gazes of Draco's parents by the back door ostensively locked from his mind.

"Where is – my wand – Draco – ", Bellatrix croaked, never having been more shaken in her life, yet conscious enough to have noticed the loss.

"Gone – ", he answered honestly without actually meaning to. "He – he took it – mine too – "

It was that moment Severus had craved for not to happen. He saw some awareness flicker behind those snake-like eyes – where he had been before he had been summoned – what he had done – and he felt it confirmed by Harry, who didn't know he just had provided that knowledge, circumventing the shield of mind in a pathetically easy way.

"Severus!", he aspirated in his hissing voice, seeming unconscious, knocked out. "What a – fortunate – coincidence – I did not expect – here? You? Why, yes – of course – would – would you mind accompanying me? There is a place I need to go – quite urgently – I believe, you can bring me there – "

"Of course, my Lord.", he replied, as if untaken by the whole, shortly patted on Draco's head and raised, gently and prepared.

There was one last string, one last hair until the fiddlestick would not be able to play anymore. One last hair and he had to give it all possible protection until Harry would manage to destroy the last Horcrux. He could not perceive how many there were left. The Hallows were too present in his son's mind. But he had to obey, had to bring him a little closer to that fibre. That was the risk, the danger he had known he was sliding along all the time, and done it willingly.

A coin heated up in the pocket of his trousers when they left the manor flying together, just enough for him to feel it along with his comparatively light feet, above one of which gentle fingers seemed to be wrapped and he knew that Ginevra was safe, that her parents had escaped before any squadron could have caught them, or had not even been sent yet. And Tom Riddle seized his arm, not tight, but rather exhausted and he Disapparated to the hills above Hogsmeade, Severus forced to follow.

"Let us walk now.", he didn't like he idea, but on the other hand,

"Of course, my Lord."

Just half a step behind, just enough to not be in view of the straight on focused red eyes, he walked along, the brand on his left forearm securing him from the much more powerful charm than which had cost Dedalus' life in further consequence. Voldemort himself had placed it on the village, only active at nighttime and no threat to the patrols. One of those passed them, each shortly greeting, absent, but struck immediately then, pulled into reality with brute force of awareness, and the shock alone was enough to make them bow for their master. Severus could briefly see an autocratic smile pushing up the little flesh on Voldemort's cheekbones. Enough time to grant him the chance to slip his hand in and out of his pocket for a scarlet feather.

From behind shut curtains of a single window, orange light shone onto the alley and in another he could see the reflection of the Death Eaters move around a corner and vanish. Whoever was up, didn't matter. What mattered was the fortune of this person having lit the fire that covered the shine of he flame behind his back when the feather left with he message he had scribbled on his hand behind. When he retrieved his hands, he could just spot the horrible scrawl reading _THEY ARE SAFE_ before it was gone by the acknowledgement of it.

The walk gave him some time to reflect, to compose, to just sort his thoughts, memories and emotions behind his usually present shield of mind and he studied the pale bald head as their feet travelled on, up the road to the castle. Whatever people said, the child was still in there and it had just peeked out as he had ordered him to cease flying. Meeting with a patrol was one thing that boy inside had been hoping for, relishing the childish satisfaction of power and Severus could already see him strutting through the castle, with the wand in hand, honestly grinning at terrified students, like a king on a parade; yet unaware that someone had intended to pee on that parade from the very beginning on.

A bumping light came towards them, the silent alarm of the charms having summoned him from his post. But not long in coming, a charm as silent hit him, turning him on the spot. Voldemort stopped before the gate.

"You seem to have extraordinary control over the magic guarding the school,"

"I am Headmaster. All control over the shields lies with me, my Lord. Easy to say, they cannot stop me from confunding a Squib."

"Yes, that is easy to say, I believe you. Is it as easy to say however, that you need not open the gates to grant me entry?"

"As easy, my Lord."

"Good. Bring me inside the shield."

The grip returned to his arm and he flew him on, up along the secured bars, across the border, the ancient and new enchantments, the Dementors inside making way for them, and Voldemort took the lead again, settling down on a path at last, his bony fingers letting go. They once more walked alongside several yards far. Then he raised his hissing voice, as low as before.

"I shall join you in the castle shortly. Leave me now."

Not in need of dropping any more words, he briefly bowed and stormed off, the solid ground under his feet never having felt better. Inhaling the clear early morning air, hearing the first birds' songs, he walked on until he didn't feel the stare anymore. The ground was gone once again and he shot up to the sleeping castle, invisible, faster than ever, high up in the air and towards the tower. The window opened and he knew he had only moments to deliver the message. Seriously snoring, the portraits were vast asleep. But there was not a second now to pity old paint.

"Albus!", instantly, the old man jerked up from his sleep.

"What?", he looked around, searching for whom had called, barely recognisable in the scarce light.

"Albus – ", he repeated, visible then, "Be awake, quick – he knows – "

"Knows?", Dumbledore mumbled sleepy.

"That you had the Elder Wand. He is getting it right now!"

"Oh – my – "

"He wants another word with me. I will wait for him at the front gates."

"Here? You – you cannot let him inside the castle!", unmistakably, he was awake now.

"I will have to, if he requests. Trust me. I have found his leak. I can keep him at bay down there. I just thought, you would want to know."

There was no more time for additional information now and he flew back out through the window, down by the walls and into the Viaduct Courtyard. It seemed years ago that he had left before Kingsley and the others had arrived, left Tonks and her mother grieving over the loss Andromeda had felt for weeks already. A cat jumped aside in shock when he materialised from thin air and both realised in the same second whom they were facing.

"Get inside! Into your office!", Severus hissed, dismissing the tickling in his nose. "Do as I say! Immediately!"

Right when the Animagus' tail disappeared under the arches and he heard the door to a side corridor open and close, black fog sank down before him, a different wand in hand now, glee on the white face, and the sun shone her first rays onto the yard. There was a cloud on the horizon, not big. But exactly that cloud was it, that covered him in shadows. That cloud kept the light from falling onto Lord Voldemort, standing there, with the Elder Wand in hand, not knowing it would not serve him as expected. The grin faded to a smile that had not laid on that face ever before, and on his former only decades ago, too long in the past for Severus to have had the chance yet to see it.

"I understand you now.", he solely whispered, not louder than the birds. "They shall not further be harmed. They had their punishment, their lesson. You may tell them they are free to leave their house, whenever they wish. Bring me inside, if you please. Into the Great Hall."

It was that moment, he had been longing for, for nearly twenty years. And now that it had arrived, he could do nothing but turn, walk up the few broad stairs and let the oaken front gates open for them. The Entrance Hall was empty, silent, peaceful. So was the other, bigger, and glistening in the shine that fell through the high windows, topped by the clear, soft blue sky that reflected in the enchantment. Much to his surprise, the man behind him stopped in mid walk and he looked back, finding him lingering, truthfully dwelling in the scenery they had entered.

Not losing his smile, he walked on, to the left. Only Severus' eyes watched him stride along the Slytherin table, between benches and wall, until he reached the middle. There he climbed over the bench and sat down, his look travelling through the hall for a while. Their eyes met and he gave Severus a simple nod, signalling him that he wished for company. Slightly taken aback by the oddity for a moment, he decided to walk as well, rather than fly, and paced between the benches, up to where he sat. A second nod, and he climbed across the other bench, sat down opposite to him.

"I know it is early,", he spoke unusually soft, "But it would be wonderful to have breakfast. Just you and I, my most loyal one, you, that you understand me; and myself."

It was indeed striking to hear him mentioning himself after someone else in a sentence. Simply aghast but not showing, Severus knocked three firm times onto the table and they did not stir by the sound, however, shortly, by the unexpectedly high gasp of the Elf that quickly tucked his locket under his unworthy clothing, though of his age, being still quick-witted.

"Oh what an honour it is,", he bowed as if he had been waiting for him to come all night then, "To have the Dark Lord himself here between these ancient walls. How may Kreacher serve the Lord?"

"You know what I prefer for breakfast."

"Of course, Kreacher does.", Kreacher bowed again, with this rare smile of his that was not real, but only one who cared for him would be able to differ. "And for you, Headmaster, the same as usual?"

"Yes, thank you. But slightly reduced. I had a rather abounding dinner.", and no sleep, he wanted to add, but bit it back down when the Elf was gone from the table already, leaving a hint of footprints on the shining dark wood.

Then, in that hut in southern Ukraine, he had not even slightly dared to imagine that he might one day, sit there, in the glistening early morning sun, at the Slytherin table, with Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was more commonly known by the name Lord Voldemort; but that one had politely waited outside for him to return; and order breakfast from a Houseelf that had hidden the only visible proof that this man was dying, just in time for him to not notice it. Not believing it could have happened; but there was something that surprised him even more: a steaming cup of milk appeared next to where he had carefully put down this said-to-be most powerful wand of all, and between his cloak-covered bony arms, a plate with bacon and eggs and a spoonful of currant jam on the edge, and a basket with some baked toast. It however amused him to see his opponent lift that area where should have been his right eyebrow, but was no hair anymore.

"That is a rather unusual breakfast, you have there, Severus."

"Well, what can I say,", he not only inwardly smiled with sudden satisfaction, "I was told to be unusual, not only once."

"Indeed. However. Enjoy your breakfast."

"I will, my Lord. So may you."

And for the first time in this man's life, these two words left his now lipless mouth, with pure honesty.

"Thank you."

~~#~~


	54. Chapter 53 - Horsemen

– Chapter 53 –

 **Horsemen**

Dawn was shining on her face. She had gone so long ago, but still she smiled down on him, vaguely in the soft light the man had his breakfast, having been walking his bar ever since Severus had left after the Elf, and he cursed himself for not having asked for a serving before he had been gone. But in such a situation no one might have pondered about their next breakfast. In addition, it would have been rude and selfish.

He hadn't come back to report. But yet again, he was with the boy; maybe; with his friend, in more pleasant company than that of a grumpy old man who couldn't sleep due to something he had seen that night, the things he had gotten to acknowledge.

"That's illogical.", he grunted to the chunk of bread and took a nice bite, which he drowned with some tea to calm his nerves. "He never is.", but some other voice in his head said differently. "No.", he continued arguing with himself. "He's just empathetic, that's all. And the boy's called for help. They've been on the same frequency. That, is, all.", but the taste of the dry sausage his teeth ripped angrily, was not with him. "You're imagining things."

As if that was confirmed, he could have sworn to see Ariana walk away. She had never done that. There was no portrait in the house she would be able to go to. But when he looked up, she had turned her back on him, walking into some kind of tunnel, into distance. It hadn't been there before. Or at least, it had been hidden behind her. But now she was clearly getting lost in a distance he hadn't known to exist.

Dazzled, hoping for his eyes to play a trick on him, he gazed up at the frame that showed nothing but the wall she had been painted before and the tunnel in it, dark and empty. Only few minutes later she came back, a small dot in the black, growing with every step. But she wasn't alone. The piece of sausage slid from his fingers onto the cutting board and he tried to make out who she brought there, taller than she was. Then the portrait swung aside with a scarce smile of hers. It had never done that either. And in a real tunnel he hadn't known to be there at all, illogical even, much more illogical than what this fact had managed to temporarily wipe from his mind, stood a young man he knew, but didn't recognise at first.

His face was smeared with blood, some cuts were still bleeding or bleeding again, and his clothes were torn, showing the same red stains. Not believing his own body to be so agile, his legs straightened and he jumped up to catch him before his weak knees gave in for him to fall out. He caught the slack figure, dragged him over to the chair he had sat on, holding him upright by the shoulders.

"Goodness sake! How did you get here?"

"No idea.", Neville chuckled with a flaccid smile. "I ran from the Carrows. Room of Requirement. Hid in there for a while. And when I got hungry, there suddenly was this portrait on the wall, with this girl.", he slackly pointed up to her when she swung back in place. "And she waved me to her and I climbed into that tunnel behind. I just went along.", the light of his wand died down when he placed it on the table.

"You say, the room created – ?"

"S'ppose so. If I'd known it to be that easy, I think we'd never dug the other."

"And you say, the Carrows did that to you?"

"Yeah. Must have figured out I'm the leader, now that Ginny's hiding hell only knows where. I got a coin message just hours ago, I think. She meant she and her parents had to flee, but that they're safe. No idea when or how she got out of the castle. But well, maybe they just thought I'd said a little too much to them or because they caught me unchaining little Emily down in the Dungeons. She's been a whole lot faster than me. Never knew she was such a good runner. They both went after me then. Caught me up on the fifth floor and nailed me to the wall."

"When was that?"

"Dunno – yesterday? Day before? Didn't want to know yet. What day's it?"

"It's the first of April. And I'm not fooling you. Here. Have the rest of my breakfast. I'll find something for your wounds."

"Thanks, mate.", Neville sighed and continued eating what Aberforth had abandoned. "Hey – why's she going?"

"What?", Aberforth spun around and saw that his sister was indeed disappearing again. "Come on over there, boy.", he pulled him up and to the stairs, that would be in blind angle when the canvas would open again. "Keep your wand ready."

They both raised theirs, pointing on the mantelpiece, ready to strike. For several minutes, nothing happened. Then the portrait swung open and they saw Ariana standing there like she had been painted, but gently and slowly shaking her head with a smile. Neville was first to lower his wand in confusion, when nothing happened for some more moments, until –

"Hello?", a girl whispered into the room, and, recognising her voice immediately, Neville rushed around the painting, having forgotten how weak his legs were.

"Hannah! What the heck are you doing here?", he helped her down and Aberforth came along, his wand still held out slightly.

"I saw you disappearing in there from around the corner and ran for my life before they could spot me. And when you didn't turn up for lessons, I just had to check, didn't I? After all I'm Head Girl."

"Yeah.", Neville led her over to a second chair and sat down where he had before, while Aberforth went for some Essence of Dittany.

"God – you look horrible!"

"Oh it's okay, Ab's getting something for me."

"Well, anyway, it took me quite a while to get in. I saw that painting up there and got curious, why there would be the painting of a tunnel in the Room of Requirement. So I went to check it, but couldn't get to move it. Then she appeared.", Hannah pointed on Ariana's portrait that was back where it belonged. "She nodded to her frame and suddenly I could open it."

"Okay. That's how I got here as well."

"Are you sure you're fine?", she took one of his hands that showed no less bruises than his face.

"I am.", he said softly and closed his fingers around hers to emphasise it, with a smile that was as kind as Ariana's.

"Good.", she sighed, sadly however, and pulled her hand away when Aberforth returned.

"Hello, by the way.", he meant and came to halt before Neville.

"Hi.", Hannah chuckled.

"Now, boy. That will sting a little. You're ready?"

"Can't be worse than it already is, can it?"

~~#~~

Clouds, omnipresent these days. They glided across the sky before the high glass, the wind refusing to try cutting holes into the thick blanket for a shimmer of blue to shine through. On the other side of the window front, a number of blonds was assembled in leather armchairs, placed randomly in a sort of circle that would only become visible if the viewer was pinned with their back to the ceiling that was still missing a grand chandelier. Its pieces laid shattered on the wooden floor, untouched, not cared for. Hannah, a cup of already cold tea clutched by her ashen fingers, stared over to her boyfriend who sat opposite to her, further away and his blank eyes drilled the holes into space the wind couldn't drill into the cloudy sky. Between them, the woman's back turned to the empty fireplace, sat Draco's parents, Lucius grey marbles every once in a while flicking over to the smashed bottle of whine in the corner.

"Lucius!", his wife hissed quietly, making him sigh as she shook her head with disbelief upon the discovery, but then looked back over to the empty armchair that closed the circle of five and the one who had been supposed to sit there, but now stood by a window, gazing outside.

"Would you – mind repeating that?", he said softly, though faintly hollow.

"Er – Dobby dropped the chandelier, Bellatrix pushed Hermione away, it fell onto her and Griphook and some shards and splinters hit me too.", Draco confusedly brushed over his face that was as it had been before the incident. "I really couldn't help. It just happened so fast, sorry."

"I didn't mean the chandelier,"

"What then? I mean, I'm sorry! She just pushed her over!"

"Stop being so focused on the chandelier!", Severus snarled.

"Stop speaking about the chandelier then, okay?"

"Why don't you stop?"

"Because you won't allow me to apologise!"

"Why on earth – "

"Oh why on earth I would want to apologise for not being able to prevent your girlfriend from being buried beneath one of our chandeliers? By our former Houseelf?", Severus had spun around, the moment all other eyes shot on Draco as well, with a very similar expression.

"Draco!", Narcissa gasped.

"What.", he huffed.

"Can you recall what you just said?", she then moaned attentively.

"Yes, I can recall very well."

"Then you might also know that you just said that Hermione Granger is – "

"His girlfriend? Yes, I know. I mean, she is, isn't she?", Draco turned back to Severus, frowning.

"How come you think – ", that one's brows narrowed.

"You should apologise for _that_ rather."

"Oh I don't know.", grunted Draco. "It just – "

"Never mind.", Severus interrupted him impatiently. "That is, as I said, not what I was talking about. What did you say, happened after?"

"Well, Mum and Bellatrix spotted Dobby and they had a little argue, but then he fled with them before Bellatrix could hit any of them with her knife. Dunno where it landed.", he unintentionally leaned to the left and examined the area where Dobby had Disapparated, but couldn't spot the blade.

"Right where she had meant it to, I guess."

"You – you guess?", Draco gargled.

"He's dead."

"What?", the four blonds gargled.

"How do you know?", whispered Draco.

"I – ", Severus took a deep breath and sighed it over to the fireplace, "He doesn't respond to my call. They are safe where they went, but Dobby doesn't respond."

"No – "

"Now again. What did Harry do before they got away.", he said coldly then, composed again, but yet wasn't fully able to hold back all of his emotions and he feared they might notice, even in their miserable state.

"Why is it so important to you that he stunned Greyback?"

"You still got me slightly wrong there.", Severus murmured. "It is not important _what_ he did, it is _how_ he did it."

"Not all too hard with three quite powerful wands, is it?", Draco chuckled, but Severus only huffed. "Okay, okay! Yes! I lost my wand! Feeling better?", he hissed, yet Severus wouldn't drop the left of his eyebrows.

" _How_."

"He didn't even disarm me, the bastard! He just pulled it out of my hand with the others!"

"Did you struggle?"

"What – of course I did! It's my wand, after all!", he became furious.

"But when your mother seized you for getting you safe, did you try to run after him or did you – "

"I – I gave up.", snorted the teenager, forcing himself to look at a little smile that grew on Severus' whole face. "Does that make you happy or what?"

"You haven't got the slightest idea how happy it makes me.", the smile though vanished immediately when he spoke on. "However, I want you to swear to me. All of you. No one, and if I say that, I mean it. Don't tell anyone. Not a single being, living or dead, is supposed to know that Harry has won your wand from you, Draco."

"Why?", Hannah asked.

"I am not allowed to tell you, but it is important. Only the slightest chance that the Dark Lord finds out that detail – let me say, there are two ways for our side to lose the war, and we have it in hand, by our secrecy. Hannah, I insist that you return to Hogwarts immediately, _and don't come back again_. He can't reach you there. Draco, stay with your parents, please. I will pick you up tomorrow. There is someone you need to get to know a little better."

"Who?"

"You'll see soon enough. But first, I got to find him. And I tell you, that is far from easy, even for me, and despite he keeps wr– "

 _Plop_. All jumped at the sound. Draco and his mother had to lean over to see what had caused the sound further behind their chairs. Completely jazzed, the ginger looked around in the room, seeming not to fully see where she was when five jaws dropped slightly and she panted as though she had run a marathon.

"Where the hell do _you_ come from, suddenly?"

"Is that you, Draco?", Ginevra blinked heavily, swaying with every breath she took. "You're a bit blurred, sorry. Who else is here?"

"Mum, Dad, Hannah,"

"Where do you _actually_ come from?", Severus hurried over as she buckled sideways and he caught her.

"Phew! Blimey! That was close, thanks!", she laughed flatly into his chest, still shaking when he pulled her to him. "So it worked? I meant to get to you.", that gave him a short pause.

"To me? Do you have the slightest – "

"I know it's dangerous. But what else – could I do?", Ginevra moaned and wrapped her arms around his back likewise, digging her fair fingers into his black robe as good as she managed to. "Mum won't stop crying."

"What – "

"She's got a feather message from Bill. Dobby's dead."

"I know.", Severus gargled, glad that his face was turned away from the others so they wouldn't see what he couldn't hold back – and didn't want to at the moment.

"How's Harry?", whispered Ginevra.

"Angry.", Severus said as quiet.

"Understandable."

"Lonely. 'E – 'e misses ye – "

"Really?", she chuckled.

"Yes. Bu' 'e's also more determined now."

"About finding the remaining Horcruxes?"

"No' as much at tha momen', bu' tha's a diff'ren' story."

"Tell me."

"No.", Severus said definite and held her head a little closer, onto which he placed a soft kiss before he rested his right cheek on her hair. "'T's a lil too complicated."

"Okay. Thank you, Dad. I think I'd have hit the floor if you hadn't caught me,"

"Any time. Was it yer firs' – "

"What are they – ", Hannah whispered, but Draco shushed her, listening as intently as the other three.

"Yeah. It's – it's been the first time I actually Apparated."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. But I should get back at one point. They think I've locked myself in. Placed some charms on the room so they won't notice. I hope it worked."

"Secon' – ", Severus raised his head and stared at the curls below. "Are ye tryin' ter tell me tha' ye jus' Disapparated from wit'in tha borders o' tha Fidelius Charm on yer grandaun's 'ouse? Inter 'ere?"

"Guess so.", Ginevra snickered.

"Ye know tha's – "

"Amazing? Yeah. I don't need you to tell me. So? What's the further plan?", Severus could only chuckle and his head sunk back onto hers. "That's not much,"

"Dun' – "

"Though it feels good,"

"It does.", he considered.

"So?"

"We're close."

"Oh hang on – I didn't notice.", the girl smiled, her eyes shut like his.

"Ginevra, tha's no' funny. Ye know wha' I mean. 'E's dyin'."

"Tz. Has he even figured that much?"

"I dunno. Bu' it's 'bou' time 'e does now. An' if thin's go as intended, 'e'll soon do 'is final breath. Fer now though, I can' do 'is alone anymore."

"So I came just in time?"

"Qui'e, yes. I need ye ter keep tha pack gathered. Make 'em stand down, bu' ready any momen'. Remus knows 'bou' mos' o' me plans. Ye can trus' 'im. 'E'll 'elp ye."

"Right."

"I'll brin' Hannah back ter Hogwarts. If tha Dark Lor' should return 'ere, it's no' wise fer 'er ter stay. Then I'll ge' ye back ter Muriel's. Stay ready fer tha las' strike. I'll flock tha rats tergether."

"Rats?", Draco asked, having been able to understand the whispering at last. "Which rats?"

"I align with him.", Ginevra loosened herself slightly and eyed Severus from below. "Which rats?"

"Jus' be ready, me foxy.", he smiled gently and brushed a curl behind her ear.

"I'd like to know,"

"Course ye like ter. Bu' I can tell ye jus' as much – there's a certain dripstone mouth tha's been far too lazy over at leas' tha las' three years. Hannah?", he turned for her.

"I'll get my – er – things – ", Hannah frowned at her large handbag that dangled in front of her in midair. "Okay?"

"How can you be so rude.", huffed Draco.

"Time is money.", Severus said conclusively. "And we're broke."

~~#~~

Lights and more lights of all colours were swamping him, like the voices and mixed other sounds around as they squeezed themselves through the bustling street of old buildings with red painted wooden balconies and Severus was not sure whether he knew where he brought them, seemingly too in love with their surrounding.

"You see that here? It is amazing, isn't it?"

"Slightly.", Severus sighed and they walked on, leaving the woman shout for more customers to attract.

"They will be alright; stop worrying and rather enjoy the atmosphere, will you? Just look at me!", he turned with a broad grin, his arms stretched out to he sides and shovelled his path backwards through the confused ducking masses.

"Tz. There's hardly anything that can shatter you, if it's not about yourself.", Severus examined the delicate long-sleeved shirt of ornamented red and blue silk he wore above matching blue trousers. "And watch out."

"Huh?", Igor spun about just in time to not crash into a stand that was jam-packed with tons of traditional Chinese masks of all colours. "Боже мой! Now how wonderful! Severus – look at that over there!", he pointed on one that was red, white and black and looked a little scary, probably mostly to the fact that there were no holes for the eyes, which were painted instead. "Isn't it great?", he beamed when the salesman hung it off and gave it to him, starting to explain all sorts of details, though in Chinese.

"You're a little obsessed with masks, aren't you?"

"Say you,", Igor laughed, then asked for the price, which he naturally beat down a little.

"When have you learned Chinese?"

"Oh, a while ago.", he shrugged and they went on, Igor quickly shoving the mask into his brown furred pouch and that under his clothes. "I love Nanshi, I thought I wrote that. Kept coming here quite a number of times and even worked a bit. You won't believe what sorts of meat they sell here,"

"Hardly."

"But you should see it at day. Really impressive. Are you hungry?"

"Just a bit.", actually he was starving – he hadn't had any meals since that breakfast with Voldemort two days ago and really regretted to have asked Kreacher to spare himself some work.

"Alright, I know a good restaurant down the corner. Not too expensive, but they got some delicious stuff. I hope you can eat with sticks. No cutlery here and I don't think, they will let you do it with fingers."

"You'd be surprised. Just as I am about your hair. Not the innocent angel anymore?"

"What is wrong with black? You have black hair as well – "

"Mine, is natural.", he had to push him away from a stand with even more decorated and pompous masks that looked rather cheap compared to the others. "And even though I don't really like it because it made you look wiser than you are, I can't deny the white flattered your eyes."

"Uh?", again, Igor spun, and Severus almost walked into him, which could only be prevented by the other's quick reaction to stop him with flat hands against his chest.

"Not – er – as much – as – your natural – "

"Are you blushing?"

"I'm not!", Severus gnarled loud enough to make some people turn their heads for a second.

"You are!", chuckled Igor. "And don't dare to try blaming it on the lanterns,"

"I – "

"You never said that you like my real hair colour,"

"Is that relevant now?", Severus moaned in a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

"Do you?"

"Gorij – "

" _Do you?_ ", he giggled like a girl and tapped his right index finger on the tip of Severus' nose.

" _Don't_ touch my nose,"

"And what if I do it again?", he did.

"Igor!", Severus hissed, though this time in a volume only his friend could hear it. "We're – "

"I will stop it if you tell me that you don't like my natural hair colour."

"But that is exactly the point! I – I never said it because I knew that you hate it – "

"So you _do_ like it?", Igor's childish grin froze and the hand sank back to Severus' chest.

"Could we – ", Severus' head rushed around, "Discuss that – _somewhere_ else please?"

"Alright, alright."

Past more masses of people, they finally arrived at a rather small, humble restaurant that was quite full too, but Igor immediately spotted a table in a corner between a bush of bamboo and an aquarium that turned out to be – a stew. Severus realised it when one of the fish was taken out the moment they sat down.

Igor swiftly picked a menu and meant to translate it for him, though a waitress had already come. So he ordered two teas first. Severus stopped her kindly. He had spotted something that seemed to match his favour. Taken aback, Igor hesitated at her look when he ensured she understood a very important detail, but also ordered himself something then, which he claimed to have eaten there numerous times already and liked. The waitress slightly bowed with a smile and again turned to go.

"And when have _you_ learned Chinese?", his friend chuckled disbelievingly.

"A while ago,", Severus smirked.

"Oh come on – "

"There had been a time when it had been boring to only teach in between waiting for two different parties to be giving me orders. But actually living here, I don't know."

"What is wrong with China?"

"Everything. The whole system. The reign."

"Nothing you wouldn't have anywhere else either.", Igor meant to budge him, but was unsuccessful.

"Not as brutal as here, not as monstrous and crawling. Yes, I know there are countries where it is even worse, but – "

"Since when do such conditions scare you?"

"Bother, more likely."

"No need. No need for bothering me at all.", the Russian grinned and wiped back a black strand. "I can take care of myself now. You taught me enough."

"If you say so; but I for myself would not be able to live here for a second, ignoring what is going on around."

"Keep your heroism where you have enough influence, my dear. And after all, we had lived in Ukraine, not? And very close to Russia even! I cannot recall you had complained about _their_ treatment of human rights a single time."

"Well, guess, you know as much as you should be able to understand why I didn't care about such things then."

"Yes. But I am just saying."

"So am I.", Severus countered grim.

"There are countries with a much better law system, much more tolerance, and what do you see there? Just the same! Only that the mob is silenced with empty promises, rather than being killed. And they still believe that one day, they will be granted their right.", even Igor's voice became hissing now the more he blustered into the topic. "Tell me, Severus. How many in those supposedly free countries live a double life in order to escape the government's control over their privacy? And how many of those aren't hiding generally harmless things?"

"If you are trying to imply that despotism has a better crime control, you are voluntarily launching yourself away from me."

"No, I am merely trying to say that it does not matter who sits on top, if the power lies with the middlemen."

"And still people do fight – "

"They do, and die."

"So does everyone who doesn't fight either."

"Yes. Especially those who cannot defend themselves. Now what about children, huh? And I am not talking about those who suffer from war or any system. I am talking about those who suffer, regardless from war and systems and you know that as much as I do, that it doesn't matter where you grow up. Who watches after them when their parents fail? Or – "

"Don't bring up parentage, you know nothing about it. Just because you still believe your parents did the most cruel act by putting you into an orphanage – "

"And you don't go making your parents look like saints; your father abused you and your mother let it – "

"Igor,"

"Happen. They were no better, if you look at the whole. And it does not matter to me that you and your mother looked after me kindly. It does not make her less – "

"But I am not looking solely at the whole. I consider the details."

"And you fuss so much into them that you – "

"I can hear the right person talking here,"

"Now listen,"

"No, you listen.", Severus' finger dug into the tabletop. "You neither had a relationship with either your parents, nor ever had children."

"And therefore I am of course to shut up about it.", huffing, Igor leaned back, twirling his black goatee with his left elbow supported on his other hand's back.

"The mere fact that you grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by little idiots that kicked you around because you were different; how can you even dare to try defending something you are so averse to, hmm? Let me tell you something. Yes, my father treated me badly as a child, but that is my business."

"It is mine too. I – "

"And he treated my mother bad as well, thereby she couldn't bring up the strength to _not_ let it happen. That was long before we met, so don't say you know what it was like. Not now. Not after all those years I thought you had understood it. And besides, I forgave him."

"You – "

"I thought you'd figured that then. Just as I forgave all those little brats who kept tap-dancing on me, though some might not have been able to see it yet. You know how deep we both are into the cause, to return to the topic. And as long as we are, we should keep our private lives to ourselves and concentrate together on what we actually want to achieve and have the influence to change. You cannot cure every single family, Igor. Especially not when you yourself have not only no idea of how things work in a family, nor ever wanted to experience it. Concentrate on the victims you can avoid."

"Well, I should keep an eye on them, you say?", Igor agreed to the changed topic with a dull chuckle.

"Yes. I have a list here.", Severus retrieved an envelope from his pocket and Igor pulled its content, hardly able to hold himself when he was through.

"You – you are kidding me, aren't you?", he grinned again, but Severus remained dead serious. "Okay, okay. You really did that then. Good luck, you hear me? That is a really tough thing to do. Well, I will see. I think I should do it. Just for the sake of one of their looks, should they find out. And for you, of course. It seems, my quiet life is over then."

"Quiet.", Severus puffed. "Why, yes, being in a different city or even country each few days is of course everyone's idea of a quiet life. Achoo, bless you."

"Don't be so mean, Severus. I am certain you can't understand, as used to be in one and the same crypt as you are. But indeed, it was a quiet life. I worked at the one or other place, and saw the world. Nothing big happened. What is a number of natural catastrophes I slid into in times, other than some funny distraction, huh? Though you are right. It is time for me to stop leaning back and get to do some serious work. You say, the end is near? Then I shall be Christ in the play."

"Let Harry be that."

"So it is clear now? He is the one?"

"Unfortunately I haven't found any evidence of the opposite.", at last, Igor's grin was fully gone. "Yes, he will have to die.", Severus could barely swallow down the knot that grew in his throat. "But after all he was sentenced to it. We all are. One day we all meet our Master. What matters is if the cause was enough to pay the Ferryman. Until then we shall continue filing the play of our own Apocalypse, in which you should be fine with slipping into the role of one of the Horsemen."

"Do you happen to have a horse for me?", Igor chuckled frantically, but Severus pulled a little purple bag from the same pocket. "What is this?"

"Let me say, I believe an increase of the number is badly necessary. Four is far too outdated and clichéd. I have another list for you. It is in there, with quite a few more of such pouches. Each carries a tag, so you don't mess them up. Deliver them for me, please. You will find the rest of them on the list as well; those whom I will seek; just in case it is needed. You might remember, last year. Let me know when you are done.", Igor quickly took it before the waitress arrived with their supper. "And promise me one thing, Igor.", he continued with his chopsticks in hand when she had left, and his friend was as earnest as him now, "Please don't take any detours. He's got it.", Severus significantly clacked the sticks together before he dug into his noodles.

"That is a joke now – ", Igor aspirated, but Severus shook his head. "Now you are definitely fucking with me."

"You wish.", Severus sighed, feeling some warmth rising in his face.

"He has got the Death Stick?"

"Yes."

"Then I will not even go to bed today."

"That is the man I know, thank you. Also for the invitation."

"Any time, my friend.", and Igor started eating as well. "Oh goodnesh – ", he munched, "Ipf I dun die pfor you, dan pfor de stupf dey sherpf 'ere."

"How good to know that I have the devil's food tester for my best friend."

Igor nearly choked from his second mouthful, but swallowed it early enough and washed it down with a gulp of tea. Though eventually, they both had a good laugh on it.

~~#~~

A soft shine was lying on the old trees and balconies in the square yard between the old houses. No concrete but bricks, yet the roofs were lacking the one or other tile that had been too expensive to replace. In some of those holes bushes of grass or valiant little trees had sat down for a try to grow. Hardly any stars could be seen above the city lights, but the sound of the alleys and streets was nearly locked out by the firm standing walls. As though he had interpreted the fast steps towards the balcony door right, he hadn't turned on any light in the small flat that only consisted of a little bathroom and one single room for everything else. Only the silver, shiny, utterly soft looking furball by the sink didn't seem to fit in.

He hadn't protested either when the locks of the balcony door had clicked to let rather fresh, cool evening air in, along with some smells from the alleys that wandered across the roofs with the chatting of from up there nameless people.

"For someone who didn't want to stay long,", Igor whispered when he joined him after making sure his humble home was still safe, "You do seem to enjoy the view."

"I won't deny it's got its charm now that no one else is around,", Severus whispered back.

"It is small, but I can tell you, it is bigger than most flats around here."

"I didn't complain about the size; as far as I could see it, all in all it is bigger than my rooms at Hogwarts were."

"You didn't have to cook there."

"I bet a Dragon and a duck that you haven't touched a single piece of kitchen furniture or utensil ever since nineteen seventy-nine."

"Keeping those two and to see how you can interbreed them would be a better idea."

It took a while, but they could share a quiet little laugh. Igor similarly leant himself onto the wooden parapet before the door that was one of only three gaps in the main room's walls, opposite to the entrance door. For a minute or two they just studied the crowns of the two trees in the yard swaying in the soft breeze, both feeling that either wanted to find something to talk about, while neither wouldn't mind just standing there for the world to end. Nevertheless Severus decided to break the silence.

"Thanks for the dinner."

"Non c'è´di che. I'm glad you survived it."

"True. But you know what you – "

"Yes. I may try to forget the past, but I am not as dumb as to actually do it. I am too selfish to let you die, I guess."

"Good to know."

"Really?", Igor lightly raised his head and now studied him while he looked at the night sky.

"Actually. I somehow appreciate the thought that I wouldn't be left to die in the end when it could be prevented. As shitty as it is, I think, there is enough good in my life to make it worth living."

"I envy you."

"Really,", Severus chuckled.

"Really."

"There's nothing to envy there."

"But I do."

"Why?", he looked at him now, but Igor turned his head to the trees.

"Because there is only one good thing in my life. Only one thing making it worth living."

"Which is?", Igor said nothing, but curled and bit his lips. "Which is?", Severus repeated and bent lower so their heads were at the same level.

"Can – ", he swallowed, "Can you – can you do me a favour?"

"Any."

Igor had swallowed so badly now that he actually choked on his tongue. But Severus' hand on his back could calm his breath and he stopped coughing at the bar that had lost some of its red painting over the years. Severus gently laid his right hand on Igor's left cheek and turned his face so he could look straight into those crystal blue eyes that hosted some tears from the choking.

"Yes, anything.", he said softly but firm.

"Um – ", this time Igor swallowed a little more successful, "Maybe you have seen it; my bed is nowhere near big,"

"We used to share a smaller bed back in Germany,"

"But I did my best to make it comfortable – and I – I can understand if you don't want, I mean, I could try to conjure another bed and try to fit it in here if it was possible to – to stop time a little – "

"Igor, I can't stop the time from passing, you know that."

"I know.", he gargled with a sniff.

"But I can gladly give a damn about time for tonight."

"Can you?"

"I _can_ not. I _will_. I already agreed to that when you begged me for allowing you to show me your current living place. So yes, I will stay. And if it's to have you tell me in all detail how you could have possibly tamed a Demiguise."

~~#~~

"Who's Blackbeard?"

Her eyes had been on the straight horizon and her ears with the sound of the waves, not knowing what to reply this time. He had asked specifically. Though she had written almost a novel about Ron's knacks and Harry's visions and mental troubles, or how Griphook was doing and that Remus had at last become father, he had written back the same question, the last word in capitals then, as to tell her that it was what he had actually wanted to know and she was certain that she had written him nothing he hadn't already come to acknowledge on other ways. After all, he was who he was and for sure he had his sources. She assumed, they might even have been spied on by animals that were under his control, able to pass their shields, and he would have read those memories then, just like he had done with that mouse, nearly exactly three years ago in the library.

"What?"

"Blackbeard. I mean, you've seen that big sheet of notes, haven't you? Where he'd drawn that sign on multiple times? Sure, he's becoming more and more obsessed with those Hallows, just like you said, but who's Blackbeard and what's he got to do with it?"

"Er – Blackbeard was a pirate in the eighteenth century – how come you think he's got anything to do with it?"

"I don't,", he corrected briskly. "Harry does. I said that, didn't I?"

"No,"

"I said, his name's on that paper,"

"But – "

"You say, he was a pirate? A Muggle?"

"Supposedly,"

"Curious enough, don't you think? He's written that name on there. And Eileen Prince."

"Excuse me?", she was still not fully getting what he was meaning to tell her.

"Yeah. Some weird stuff on there. Names I've never read before either. You reckon he's going mad at last?"

"I – I don't know – "

"What're you doing there anyway?"

"Writing a letter.", she still gazed out through the open window the desk stood by, robbed the back of her head, and inhaled the pleasantly warm breeze of late April in the salty air, but the scent became slightly unimportant as the information started to sink in, somehow.

"To whom?", Ron sat up on his bed; he had been staring at the shell-decorated white ceiling all during the past minutes.

"A friend,", Hermione only meant, a little snooty.

"And who would that be?"

"You don't really know him."

"Him?"

"Oh wonder, Hermione Granger has other male friends than Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter.", she huffed and inked her quill, ferociously writing down all her anger about the jealousy that had just been thrown at her with a single word.

"Blimey!", Ron moaned hollow. "I was just curious! No need to go barking at me!"

"Who's barking?", Harry had entered through the open door.

"Hermione's barking! She's totally mad at me!"

"Hermione, are you barking at Ron?", he chuckled and went over. "What the – ` _Seriously, I don't even know why that makes me so upset, but he can be a such an obnoxious pest sometimes. Still I love him though_.´ Looks rather like she's mad _for_ you – er what? Why are you writing that I just read that aloud to him? What the – ", her writing was gone and some capital letters appeared, visibly written with the wrong hand and Hermione slipped a relieved sigh. "You know, Ginny won't be so fond if she knew you were chatting with a paper,"

"This is absolutely not dangerous as long as you let me alone with it. And there is in fact a living person sitting on the other end.

"What _is_ this? ` _You tell me nothing I don't know already_.", Harry read again and Ron decided to join them. "` _Thank you for the information though_. _And I am very pleased to see that your dear friend has mastered the advanced art of reading. Still I beg him to keep his comparatively small nose out of other people's business_ ´ – Hermione? Is this who I think it is?", he eyed her, getting the message more than she did; still she blushed when she wrote back. "` _Oh he hasn't mastered that; or rather, he – blatantly´_ what? _`Blatantly refuses to follow your advice_ ´? Hermione! Why the ruddy heck are you pouring out your heart to _him_? Why do you have such a paper? Why does he?", Harry raged.

"` _Then why the ruddy heck are you still writing to me?_ ´", Ron read this time, all six eyes popping out. "` _Can – you – hear – us?_ ´"

"` _No_.´", Harry read the answer in capitals, his undertone thronging. "` _But though I had a P in Divination, your situation is not all too hard to guess._ ´ He's had – what?", he again chuckled then, though his fury wasn't fading much.

"Yes, Remus has had a P in Divination.", that was not even a lie, since Severus had told her that he had had as well, before both of them had dropped the subject, and without realising that by this she had actually convinced Harry to abandon all his rightful doubts, she grabbed ink, quill and paper and stormed downstairs.

"Remus?", the boys called after her.

"Remus – ", Harry aspirated in addition, gaining Ron's interest. "Oh damn it. Sure."

"Whom were _you_ thinking she wrote to?", Ron interpreted that right.

"Never mind. But I guess, I gotta apologise."

"Yeah.", though Harry had followed her already, finding her at the kitchen table.

"Don't you even dare to.", she snapped grim when he approached her from behind. "That is personal and it was a horrible thing of you to do that."

"Guess, I know. And I've come to say that I'm sorry."

"Save your breath.", she huffed, suddenly reminded of something Severus had told her long ago.

"Really, I am. And if I have to follow you all day until you understand."

"Please – "

"I thought you were writing to Snape."

"What?", she spun her head, doing her best to keep her disgusted look convincing.

"Well, you know, that sentence about keeping out of other's business – that's almost exactly like the Marauder's Map insulted him when he tried to read it in front of me before Remus found us."

"Oh – you – you never told me – ", Hermione aspirated; the transformation in her face was honest now.

"That's why I thought, you know? Sorry. It was stupid of me to think that you would – absolutely illogical – "

"No – it's – it's alright, Harry.", she moaned. "I know how hard it is for you not to see an enemy in every single thing you face."

"Thanks.", he smirked sadly and sat down, whereby Hermione quickly rolled up the paper and hid it in her pouch; which she wore around her shoulder almost constantly now; so he wouldn't spot the returned temporary words of goodbye. "Er – you don't happen to know how Ginny is?", Hermione blinked hard at the way he unconsciously scratched his neck under the shoulder-length black mess.

"She's fine.", Luna said and they turned for her as she came in from outside the house, walked to the dresser and hopped onto it to sit down for dangling her legs with her new wand stuck behind her ear. "I think, we'd know if she isn't.", that smile of hers visibly cheered Harry up, nevertheless he studied an anklet she wore above one of her bare feet.

"Aren't – aren't you cold?"

"Oh, no. The sea and sand are quite warm already. Not colder than the Black Lake would be now. And I've lost my shoes somewhere in the house.", it was actually the first time for her to admit that some piece of her clothing had disappeared due to her own fault, especially surprising, it was her shoes. "But it's not as big as Hogwarts, so I guess, I'll have found them by tomorrow. I don't want to summon them, just in case they might knock somebody out."

"Yeah. That'd be awful,", Ron joined into the laugh, having gotten downstairs too. "A Bludger or a Stinging Jinx are justified, but a pair of shoes simply isn't something to be proud of getting into your face. I should know."

"You – should know?", Hermione giggled when he sat down at her left.

"Well, I walked myself into that now, didn't I?", he smirked. "Ginny's once thrown a pair of trainers at me when I laughed about her shrubby hair after she's washed it."

"Then you totally deserved that.", meant Hermione.

"Hey! She broke my nose by that! Luckily Mum could fix it! Blimey – should've figured then that she'd make a great Chaser,"

"So you really want to do that?", Luna asked.

"Do what?", her legs had ceased dangling and her expression became serious.

"Breaking into Gringotts."

"Yes.", said Harry, all of the trio first shocked that she had discovered it, but then on second thoughts, not really. "We're going on Thursday. Three more days. We've been here too long already and I have – er – I have a feeling that – "

"Then be cautious.", she hopped off and walked back to the door outside. "Sometimes the blind see more than the seeing."

"What's she – ", Ron chuckled.

"When in doubt, you should rely on your enemy's enemies and the least considerable logic might turn out to be the most brilliant idea."

"She's totally freaky."

"No. She's right.", Harry said. "We need to be very careful. Just because someone acts as though they don't recognise us, it doesn't mean they actually don't. And I guess, she means that if we get to meet someone who doesn't like Death Eaters either,"

"We should accept their hand gladly.", Hermione finished his sentence. "Let's hope she's right and we'll have some ally there."

~~#~~

In eerie gloom, a silhouette sat facing a crackling fire, fondling a thick dark stick. The bluish silver shine from the entrance of the cave didn't reach the source of warmth. Patrolling behind the rock boulder, the husky of light paced up and down, silent. As silent as the man who just bound a stable Dragon leather corset around his chest and stomach. The other only sat on a blanket on the ground and watched the flames burning into his eyes like the black lines on his left forearm had done mere seconds ago, wondering how he could lace that all on his own. He wore such a corset already, under his plain black suit and shirt. He had done all day. It had taken him some time to get used to it, but when the itching at his left side had stopped, it turned out to be actually quite comfortable.

Of the same material, black bracers found themselves being strapped over purple sleeves of a robe. Only when something shiny was held down to him, the young man at the fire would take his eyes from it.

"Eat.", the other said calm, almost fatherly.

"I'm not hungry.", a firm and definite reply, though a tremble of fear in the back of his voice did not remain unnoticed.

"Eat.", this time, the word was more like an order. "You will need it."

"It's red. I never eat red apples. Don't like them."

"Tonight, you will. It is red like the blood that flows in you. Eat it and pray for your blood to still be running through your veins un-spilled by the arrival of the morning sun. Eat – and believe that it brings you luck."

A flash of conviction hit him, but not without a sigh, the pale fingers wrapped around the cool ball, bringing it to his mouth. Rows of white teeth dug into the sweet flesh, taking away its innocence and juice trickled down his lips, that he wiped dry with the back of his other hand, in which he still held the wand of his mother, suddenly feeling like he could tear a bear in two with his fingertips only.

More minutes of silence, not alone this time. The second man had sat down beside him and stared into the fire likewise. The apple was almost gone with surprising pleasure when he spoke again.

"Do not fear death, boy."

"I don't. I'm ready.", he paused, "Ready to _eat_ it up."

With that, he ate the last bit and threw the stem into the fire, both sharing a look before they started laughing equally ironic. Barking. Their grins froze. Two heads turned and both were on their feet, the younger one holding his mother's wand ready to defend himself.

"Don't worry. It is him."

The blue shine became brighter as the Patronus jumped eagerly around the approaching man's legs. He too, had a smile on his lips, but it was concerned. The husky of light stepped out between them as the man in purple welcomed the one dressed in black with a returned embrace.

"It's good to see you again as well.", he sighed when receiving a whacking big kiss on the cheek.

"You look dreadful, my friend.", the one who had kissed him said, wiping some black strands from his face. "And you are bleeding. Let me see – ah it is not so deep.", he pointed the tip of the ornate reddish wand in his left hand at the cuts on his friend's forehead and other cheek, letting them vanish with no visible sign of their former existence. "That is better."

"Thank you. Windows aren't the friendly mates anymore they used to be."

"He called us.", the youngest interrupted their conversation.

"Yes, he called me as well."

"So Aberforth said the truth? He's here?"

"Yes."

"Then it'll actually happen tonight – "

"I'm afraid, it will."

"How can you always know such things – didn't bother ever applying for Divination as well, did you?"

"I dropped the subject after two months of useless homework. I don't reckon Albus would have done more than laughing me down. Besides, I am sadistically satisfied with at least a fair number of our agreements."

"Dad answered. But I don't want him to come. That'd mean Mum would come too."

"They don't have many other choices. But are _you_ sure – "

"I am. If they fight – if you fight – I will. I feel confident enough. I'm ready."

"All right."

"Where's Hannah?"

"Up in the castle."

"Can you get her out?"

"No. You know that she would rather die than sitting somewhere in hiding while knowing her friends in danger.", the man crouched down in front of the young one and fixed his open shoelace.

"What are you – oh. Thanks. Er – ", he found two tender hands laid around his right ankle, then a pair of deep dark eyes looking into his from below with concern.

"Whatever happens tonight, Draco, remember that nothing can fully separate us. The five of us are bound together, in hearts and souls."

"I know.", Draco swallowed. "I know.", he repeated a little more firm. "And we are – "

Though he couldn't speak further. Severus raised and gently took him into his arms, his friend's hand on his right shoulder now. By the embrace, Draco regained power of speech.

"We'll be alive.", he said. "We'll all be alive by tomorrow morning and he'll be dead. I won't let him get you – or Harry. I promise."

The husky barked again, but its creator shushed him as he recognised the second Patronus joining them. Lighting the cave a little more, the goat raised its deep voice.

"He's coming. I heard the careless gits Apparate on the hills. The Dementors are gathering around. Even more advancing, I fear. Saw many over the woods. My pub's flooded to the ceiling with students and Aurors trying to get either side, so much, Ariana's sat down against the frame, pouting. You'd better look for another way to enter. Good luck.", the goat became blue glowing mist and was gone, like the Husky then.

"You know what to do, my friend.", the addressed nodded. "I'm still Headmaster. The castle will let you in then. Have fun."

In a rush of black fog they left the cave and the man wearing purple clothes Disapparated.

~~#~~


	55. Chapter 54 - The Secret Guardian

– Chapter 54 –

 **The Secret Guardian**

The cup of Helga Hufflepuff in her left hand, her wand in the other, she hurried after Ron. Dust in the air and her lungs, lightning everywhere around them, screams deafening their ears. Some of them must have gotten in through an unknown tunnel because the barrier was supposed to still be intact. A blue bolt crossed their way. Hermione sized Ron from behind, pulling him back by the collar, the curse missing him by about five inches. Then she pushed him behind her, peeked around the corner.

"Stupefy!", hit.

"Thanks!", Ron panted.

"Any time! Come on!"

"Yeah!"

Corridor after corridor, left, right, right and left again, endless shattered walls already, people duelling as they hurried past between, no time to care for who the others were. Only one destination. Only one way to go. Running faster, sliding around corners, every now and then yelling out a defensive spell. Suddenly her breath was gone. She struggled, trying to get the rope off her neck, seeing Ron running on, coming to halt after a few yards, rushing about.

"Aguamenti!"

A fountain of water erupted horizontally from Ron's wand, blasting the Death Eater back against a statue, knocking him out. Hermione could loosen the rope.

"Nice one!", she laughed and heaved herself up.

There was an immensely loud bang from a blast, throwing Hermione to the floor again. A massive spell had hit the half open corridor and caused the arches and ceiling to collapse. She coughed and spat, trying to see just anything through the dust.

"Ron!"

"I'm fine!", she heard his voice from the other side of the enormous heap of rubble. "Just an awkward déjà vu! You?"

"I'm okay!"

"Alright! See you at the bathroom!"

"Yeah!"

Angry, with her neck hurting a bit, she ran back to find another way. Back, right into the battles.

"Incendio!", she screamed, pointing her wand as she ran by, on a Death Eater who was torturing a fist-year – the cloak of the man caught fire. "Petrificus Totalus!", helpless, he would burn to death.

Curses hurtling, spells clashing, walls and ceilings collapsing. Hermione in between, searching her way through like a gazelle on the run from a cheetah, her brain working as fast as a fly's. There was no time to care about her body. No time to bother her aching legs or lungs or her humming ears. As if only her mind existed, directing a machine, she sprinted through the castle that seemed to be blown away right around her.

Actually she did quite a nice run in her opinion, casting spell after spell, next to trying to figure out where by all those unleashed forces of Heaven and Hell she was, until – she felt something hot coming from behind. Flinging her head back at full speed, she could see a gigantic jet of fire following her with roaring thunder and heat. But before she could conjure a shield, she lost ground beneath her feet – and eventually got to see where she had run to.

With a high pitched scream she fell. The banister had been blown away and she found herself falling down past the moving stairs, people duelling on them. She could see the grand staircase; the long broad main marble staircase leading up to the moving stairs in the tower; coming closer. Someone was battling fiercely on it: it was McGonagall.

"Aresto Momentum!", Hermione yelled, making herself stop two feet above those steps and fall down on them _softly_.

McGonagall spun in surprise. Her chin, hands and knees hurt. She was lucky she hadn't bitten off her tongue, or worse, landed on McGonagall, both doing so. It wasn't over yet though. Panicked, she rolled one stair down, as a dragon made of pure fire shot towards them from above.

"Protego Maxima!", Hermione pointed her wand upwards, blocking the heavy fire spell to her grand surprise and relief, making it rush all the way back up and bursting a hole into the far away roof of the tower. "Oh no – ", she panted, as the pieces began to rain down on them and she jumped up, grabbed McGonagall by the arm and dragged her downstairs.

"Fascinating, what an age one has to reach to see such an amazingly well done shield charm in probably the oddest situation possible.", McGonagall chuckled when Hermione let go so they could defend themselves against more Death Eaters that had started to chase students. "Are you all right, Miss Granger?", she panted.

"Yes, Professor. I'm f-"

Hermione felt herself lifted and pulled off the remaining stairs by an invisible force, crashing heavy on the flat floor at the foot of the stairs, deflated. Stars dancing before her eyes, she could see McGonagall pointing her wand at the attacker, who apparently stood somewhere between them and the shut front gates. As fast as she could, she jumped up, raising her wand as well. The Death Eater held a wand in each hand, both of them directed on one of the women, an ugly grin on his face. Hermione panted heavier, panic burnt into her eyes, but steadily holding her wand towards the enemy, who had been fair enough to wait for them to engage in the duel. The whole battle around them seemed to have no interest in letting them participate, luckily.

Just as Hermione meant to send the first spell, black fog was dropping down behind the Death Eater and she could feel her lips form a smile, excited and malicious at once, when she realised that it was an ally. The Death Eater froze, eyes gaping with shock as the tip of a black wand materialised from the fog, drilling into his right carotis-arterie. The hand holding it formed itself from the black whirls and slowly the whole man, a surprisingly calm look on his face, his eyes peering at the Death Eater from aside and his left hand clutching into the other's dirty, short, brown hair so he couldn't give in to any naivety.

"Get your wand out of my girlfriend's face.", he snarled, but the trapped only blinked desperately. " _Now_.", horror writing itself onto his face, the man lowered both shaking hands.

"S-Severus? Is that – is that you? What're you – ?", the man stammered.

"Say goodnight.", he smiled and a small green flash lighted up at the man's throat.

Still held by the hair, the two wands slipped out of the Death Eater's hands and fell to the floor, even before Severus pushed him down with disgust. Puffing their lungs out, they looked each other in the eyes for a moment. Two seconds and three hasty steps later, a pair of arms was thrown around his neck and a hand, still holding a wand, dug into his messed hair. Breathing through her bushy brown mane, he closed his eyes, pulling her tight. Nobody paid attention to the two, nobody except Minerva McGonagall, who lowered her wand in confusion as she watched them kiss. Hermione's wand-holding fist against Severus' cheek, they separated their lips, nuzzling. One more kiss.

"I thought I'd never see you again – ", Hermione giggled.

"I can't leave all the fun job to you, can I?", he smiled back happily.

"You killed him – ", despite the battle around, they couldn't lose their smile, not even when he shot another green bolt at McGonagall, who jerked as it rushed past her head and hit a masked.

"Well, – "

"Non-verbally!", Hermione chuckled, but he just shrugged as if it was as easy as tearing a sheet of paper. "Luna was right. You really _are_ more powerful than you seem.", McGonagall came stomping downstairs now, flicking her wand randomly at Death Eaters trying to follow fleeing students.

"Explain!", she shrieked in a much higher pitched, hollow tone, "Explain that!", and wildly brandished her empty hand. "Both of you! Severus – what is this? You murder Albus and a year later, you are dating a former student and killing Death Eaters? Miss Granger! What is this madness! I don't understand!"

"Polite people usually thank that person who saved 'eir arse twice in a row,", Severus huffed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Professor – ", Hermione half turned around dextrally in his arms. "Whatever you saw or believed, you were _meant_ to.", she laughed. "Everyone. Dumbledore was dying already. Severus just saved him from a very painful death, secondly preventing Draco Malfoy from becoming a killer. Severus has always been on our side.", she knew she could speak rather openly – no one would hear them in the roar around, not even Voldemort, she at least hoped. "He's never been loyal to – Tom Riddle. Fooled him from the beginning; joined him with the wish to infiltrate the whole party and put an end to the war.", she prayed for this short version to do.

"Is that – that is too much for my old brain. I have acknowledged that Albus loved to concoct merry-go-round-stories, but why? Why all this? This disguise? Severus – "

"There is no time for details now, Minerva.", he panted, switched his wand to the left hand and a rattling chain flew through the air, picking someone in dirty black clothes from behind a young blond, who watched the other suffocate with bafflement.

"Damn it!", he spotted Severus. "Where the hell has he come from?"

"Exactly there!", yelled a girl from upstairs and shot a stunner over his head at a second Death Eater Draco hadn't seen coming in his confusion, forcing him to duck.

"Hey! It'd be good to not hit me while trying to save me,"

"We can discuss that when we're married! Come on! Second years trapped on the third floor! No trespassing without a Mark!", Hannah raged on.

"Oh crap – er – ", Draco was torn between looking at either. "Happen to know where that tousle-head with the scar and glasses is?", eventually he was spared the trouble by having to defend himself, but against some students. "Bloody tramps! I'm on your side!", he moaned, deflecting their spells at the architecture. "You should've joined the DA earlier!"

"AVADA KED-"

"Marlene!", Hannah spat, bright red, when she knocked the girl over with a heavy swish of her wand. "Get the fuck off him and take some real Death Eater instead! AND YOU!"

"Right – I'm coming – "

"AV-", Marlene had been back on her feet by the helping hands of her friends while Draco already ran upstairs with Hannah, but thanks to Hermione, she slammed against a wall, passed out.

"That wasn't really necessary, but thank you.", Severus aspirated, his eyes travelling between Hermione's wand and those held out by the little flock around Marlene.

"Oh my – ", McGonagall panted.

"Don't YOU look at me like that!", Hermione barked as well, making both at her sides wince from the volume. "I might have been away for some months, but I'm still a Prefect and your little friend tried to KILL THE HEADMASTER AS WELL! IF IT WASN'T WAR, I'D REPORT YOU TO THE MINISTRY AND SHE'D GO STRAIGHT TO AZKABAN! Oh wait – she does, right? I mean you're supposed to be a Death Eater and the Ministry's – "

"WILL YOU GET LOST ALREADY!", Severus rampaged now too, which apparently scared them enough to heave Marlene onto their shoulders and run for their lives.

"This school is definitely going to the dogs since you are Headmaster,", McGonagall sighed with an unnecessary look around.

"And that is exactly where you come into the plan, Minerva. Please protect the students at your best. Hermione – where's Harry? In a very busy haste, I know, but I can't – "

"He's searching for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem.", Severus slightly let go of Hermione at last.

"Row-?"

"And Ron and I were heading for the Chamber of Secrets to destroy that one before we were separated.", she waved the cup, Severus eyed it curiously. "He had the brilliant idea we could try destroying them with a basilisk fang. You know, since Harry had already destroyed one of them this way – "

"Wait – ", he backed away a foot, "You still have to – ", he counted in mind, "Three more to go? _Are you mental_?", he hissed, got a glimpse on a Death Eater farther away who attempted to attack a group of huddled up students and sent a silent Killing Curse at him, leaving the students running then, confused about the source. "You come here, start a battle like this and expect you can still survive long enough to destroy _three_ Horcruxes?"

"And we still aren't sure about how to get close to the last one – or whether the diadem is a Horcrux at all.", Hermione bit her lip, feeling guilty.

"You – ", he looked away, consciously ranting in Russian so at least one of the women wouldn't understand him, but –

"I am not risking anything, nor do I think that I ever was a stupid goof!", a man with Russian accent hurried by, making all three turn to him in surprise. "You better keep fighting, my friend! It is like a fayre here!", Igor Karkaroff laughed like having gone insane – more than naturally. "Бомбарда!", he grinned, slashing his ornate reddish wand at a still masked Death Eater, which forced some third-years to run from soaring blood, brain, teeth, pieces of skull and two eyeballs. "Whoohoo! I have been wanting to do this for twenty years! Got the others! They are coming! They will surely wait for your orders!", he disappeared in the dust-filled corridor opposite to the Great Hall.

"At least you said the truth! He's really gone mad!", Hermione moaned distorting her mouth, over McGonagall's still resounding shriek, making Severus laugh quietly. "And now I know what your nickname for him derives from."

"Faintly, yes. Come. We need to find Ronald. Miner-"

He couldn't finish his sentence, having to dive down beneath a stunner with Hermione. For once, Cho Chang proved courage. Unfortunately, she got the wrong man as well. But that one couldn't bother less. Hermione just saw Cho's eyes go weird when he pointed his wand at her and she turned at an instant, hurrying into the Great Hall. Then another Killing Curse hit a woman, running after a number of young students who were led from the corridor Karkaroff had vanished in, by Ginny and Luna, right between the couple and McGonagall. All of them ducked down when they noticed the flash, desperately trying to figure out who had been the victim.

"Snape!", a voice from above yelled. "Why are you killing our kind!"

Yes, this time he had been seen – and the ones in the near heard it. Though to his luck, they saw no need to notify Voldemort, but rather wanted to finish him off right there.

"Traitor!", the man spat. "He's the mole!"

A dozen bundles of black fog rushed towards the three while most students around used the distraction for flight. Severus gave the air a stir of his wand and Hermione felt sliding over to the group of students now crouched by the gilded doors, along with a bewildered McGonagall.

"Oh!", Luna beamed, having spotted him in the chaos at last. "He's back!"

His wand was in the air for a second and a bluish bubble globed itself around him and the Death Eaters, all gritting their teeth, circling him like a hungry pack of hyenas. A red flash was blocked. A purple one, then a fireball. Lightning shooting at him. He fought off everything under the huge shield. The students and McGonagall just watched it with gaping eyes and mouths.

Now it was Severus' turn. He swung his wand like it was as big as a sword, though not getting through the others' blocks. He tried that several times, angry with himself that the spell had ever been too weak to break more powerful Shield Charms.

" _Confundo Duodecim!_ ", Hermione shouted, moving her wand in a circle above her head, then sending it towards the bubble.

Luckily he heard her and let her spell in, causing the shield to flicker for a moment. There was a lot of blood. He had spun around with his wand held out. Half of the Death Eaters fell to their knees, some instinctively pressed hands on their wounds. Then, Severus raised his wand straight in the air, a white electric bolt rushing up, it's intensity charging with every second. He snapped it down in front of him and everything went white.

The next thing Hermione saw when raising her head and lowering the arm she had thrown in front of her face for eye protection, was a mass of grey smoke filling the whole, now vanishing cupola, faint flashes bickering on the ground. The horrid smell of burnt flesh and fabric rose. With a gentle wave of his wand, the smoke sank down. A quick green bolt shot at another Death Eater who was flying past without looking. The woman hit the floor with a muffled sound. Blood was trickling from the dead bodies around Severus, still filled with electricity. He wiped a small drop of blood from his cheek and eyeballed it as if it was the most boring thing he had ever seen.

"Thank you, Hermione.", he frowned.

"Got to repay for all you did for me, don't I?", she chuckled, though distracted by a separate battle going on upstairs.

"That was beautiful!", Luna aspirated, all heads on her then.

"I am aware that you have a different apprehension of what beauty may be like, but I cannot forbear confessing that _this_ , even bothers someone like me.", Severus smirked, visibly amused.

"There is beauty in everything, Sir.", she smiled gently. "Even in death. Because, if there is beauty in life, it also has to be in death since they are connected to one another."

"And there she goes, vindicating mass murder. Fancy working at the Ministry?", Hermione mumbled with a broad smile, making Severus laugh lustily his eyes closed, which surprised the students behind her as much as this demonstration of his powers still amazed McGonagall. "Sorry. Don't know where that came from."

"Minerva?", he could calm down for finishing his sentence, "Please try to survive. Hogwarts needs you.", his colleague just nodded, slightly off. "Herm-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Everyone only stared at where the spell had gone. Everyone but Harry upstairs, who disappeared without even realising that the castle had been partly overrun already, too focused on his task – not noticing that it had just been necessary for someone to save his life, especially not –

"Miss Granger!", McGonagall aspirated to her heavily panting student who still had her wand raised.

"Hermione – ", Ginny moaned, having gotten up from the floor to join them. "You – you just – "

"Seems so – ", Hermione swallowed, feeling her right arm being grabbed and looked up to Severus, not having seen him moving towards her too, in her shock. "But at least I've found Harry – "

"Come.", he said softly, sounding and looking exhausted. "We need to catch Ronald."

"He's hopefully still on the way to the chamber – or waiting there for me already.", Hermione nodded.

"Good. Minerva, I count on you. Ginevra,", he laid his other hand on her shoulder, "If homeless rats come by, paint the castle red for them. Otherwise make it as colourful as possible. It's New Year's Eve. And Luna, please let Helena know dinner's ready. Sybill might also wish to leave her oubliette."

"Of course. I will make her understand, that not even she can be able to predict the future with any means from tonight on, if she doesn't use them properly."

"Er – ", faltered Hermione, though Severus only agreed with the girl.

"Wonderful.", he said and took his hand off Ginny.

With this last word, Hermione found a familiar feeling rushing through her whole body. The next second, they were flying upstairs. Still no free hand, she tried her best to hold on to what she detected as being him. Even in their current state, she could feel his arms closing her in. She shut her eyes, not willing to look at any more ruined parts of the castle or duelling people. Her mind drifting away from the screams and names as well as orders being shouted all around; it seemed that the rushing air against them and his warmth could wash away all the death, all the pain, all the frustration and despair from the past years.

And while she herself tried to lock the full awareness into some corner of her mind although her burning heart told her different, she understood that he had only seized her arm to do exactly that; to prevent her moral from destroying her soul with guilt and shame about having extinguished a life, no matter whose it had been. _Two, actually_ , a conceited voice that didn't fit her current mood said in her head with hers, and meant forcefully to construct the image of burning clothes and blisters blasting on skin and even down a throat and melting eyes while their owner had likely not passed out by the pain he had been incapable of expressing.

Flying invisibly through between events that felt like being unable to touch them, she just wanted to remain in his arms forever and forget. Then, it was over.

Solid ground beneath their feet – a deserted corridor, away from combat, peaceful and unscathed as if being in a different place, as if not being in Hogwarts, unreal – a single tender kiss, eyes filling with silent tears – no words necessary – no words able to describe – no words that could heal as much as their eyes, staring deeply into the other's, deeply into each other's souls – understanding –

He gently held her close, leaning his head against hers. The cup still in her left and the wand in her right hand, she wrapped her arms around his back, cuddling to his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. He put away his wand, making it easier to comfort her. His fingers stroked through her hair, caressed her back and cheek.

Footsteps, from the other end of the corridor. Heavy breathing getting louder. Hermione looked up, not seeing the person yet. Realising that they stood in front of the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she wiped her tears dry with her dirty sleeve, feeling the dust scratching on her already hurt skin. They separated, soon enough for not being seen like this. Stumbling around the corridor, Ron came heading towards them, his face redder than his hair. He slid to halt.

"YOU!", he bellowed, out of breath. "GET – AWAY – FROM HER!", his hand raised, slightly shaking, and he pointed his wand at the other man.

"Ron – ", Hermione moaned, "It's okay!"

"WHAT? NOTHING'S OKAY!"

"It's alright, Ron! He's on our side! Please! Put down your wand!", she begged.

When he wouldn't, Severus raised his hand, wandless. Both Ron and Hermione watched him lowering it again, making Ron's hand move with it.

"Now get in there.", he said calmly, nodding at the door. "The sooner you get rid of the Horcruxes, the sooner it will be over."

"Over?", Ron whined. "Hang on – you – "

"I said, he's on our side!"

"Since when!"

"Since – ever.", Hermione sighed.

"And you believe him or what?"

"I do. If you don't, ask McGonagall – or Luna – or Ginny – "

"What do _they_ have to do with it?"

"They also just witnessed him killing about twenty Death Eaters."

"Tw-?", Ron narrowed his eyes, looking from one to the other.

"Yes!", she hissed. "Now – ", there was a heavy bang in the distance and even louder screams than before; the corridor tremored dangerously, dust trickling from the ceiling and the cracks between the bricks.

"There is no time for asking questions.", Severus said coldly, blasting the door open with a flick of his hand. "Come – "

And indeed, there was no time, yet for him to finish and get going. More people came around the corner they had passed flying: a trio of blonds flounced towards the other three, a woman in the middle, with her massive narrow waves billowing and a ball of light rushing ahead. Before it reached its target, she let it vanish with a horrible sneer, torn between anger and satisfaction. Like her, the men that flanked her had their wands held out. So had Hermione, Ron and Severus now, but the latter's determination fell off the moment he must have recognised the three. Hermione didn't fail to notice.

"And I thought, old Dumby had it all wrong.", the newcomer snarled as she stopped a few yards in distance, with the men halting equally. "I believed he'd been fooled hilariously. And then,", her voice; which sounded strangely familiar to Hermione; became a little like Bellatrix Lestrange's when she was upset, "I get to hear stories, right when I am about to jinx a number of those useless Hufflepuffs! That _you!_ You, the one he values most, have killed in his rows! And I ask myself, how am I to take that? So I grabbed my brothers – and went looking for you – and see! See what I found! You have actually huddled up with Mudbloods and Blood Traitors!"

"May I remind you,", huffed Severus, freezing her display of bared teeth instantly, "That you yourselves had Muggle parents?"

" _That is not the point!_ ", she spat after two seconds of pause and her wand sent some yellow sparkles as she brandished it in fury. "Get your wands down or we'll blast you three through that wall back there!"

"Why don't you slide of your throne a bit, hmm?", Severus said grim but calm and with a soft gesture, he signalled a confused Hermione to lower her wand.

"Why don't you kill – ", she hissed.

"Shut it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, shut it!", he grunted, with his look still at the blonde, but Hermione saw that the woman's eyes were, why ever, suddenly fixated precisely on the fingers which held his wand.

"Where've you – ", she aspirated.

"I'd say,", Severus continued slowly and clearly, " _You_ three lower your wands, turn around, and your brothers rejoin the battle, while you grab your legs and sweet bum and cart them off the grounds, before I blow your brains out through the back of your heads."

"Rather I'd die in the battle before I flee like a mouse!", probably without noticing, Ron gave a slight shudder.

"Then go die in the battle.", Severus meant definite. "But please spare me the trouble to be the one who has to kill you, Ivory. If you'd valued those of your family who had died last, at least a little, you'd save your own life and start anew. You'd regret it if you don't.", finally, he lowered his wand now, and she did it with him. "Mark my words."

"Let's go.", she huffed and turned on the spot to leave to where they had come from.

"What?", one of her brothers hissed, utterly confused by the sudden change.

"I said, let's go!"

With some last glances, they followed her and Severus nodded his former students to get into the bathroom. Still flabbergasted, Ron hurried in first, followed by Hermione and then Severus, who conjured a shield outside the open door.

"Why haven't you – ?", interrupting Hermione's question, Myrtle came floating up from her toilet cabin, curious who meant to disturb the peace in the again only peaceful part of the castle.

"Oh – it's you.", she giggled. "I thought I'd recognised your voice. And now you brought your teacher with you as well. Not brewing that Polyjuice-stuff again, are you?", Severus lifted an eyebrow.

"No. Not this time.", Hermione pouted, keeping wondering silently why Severus had spared the three and what all that talking had meant.

"What then? Is there another snake down there?", she pointed at the basins hiding the entrance.

"Snake – ", Severus just whispered.

"What?", Hermione rushed around.

"The snake – feeding so _she_ can survive – there will be the moment when he – of course!", he aspirated, looking into her eyes. "Myrtle, Helena needs your help, by the way."

"Helena? Why would she need my help?"

"Dinner is ready.", he repeated what he had told Luna, confusing not only Hermione again.

"All right, Sevvie,", Myrtle giggled, "I'm off!", and there she went, down the toilet with her usual shriek, splashing water.

"The snake, Severus? You mean Nagini?", Hermione urged, deciding to dismiss the considerations about whatever kind of dinner that was.

"You call him by his first name?", Ron hissed.

"Shut up, Ron.", she silenced him. "What's with the snake?"

"Actually, I meant something else. But if you are already talking about that – _pet_ snake, you must make sure to kill it. The way he talks to her – treats her like an equal, that is no affection to a pet. That is actual care. He cares for the snake. I hope, you remember well what I said, Hermione. About his mother."

"That he cared for her, at last. Only for her.", she nodded.

"So why then would he care for a; to him; being as low as an animal if it wasn't for her – "

"Probably being a Horcrux?"

"Yes."

"We thought about that too. Harry's seen – felt – but – I'm not so sure. Yes, the evidence might be there, but it's a living being. The others were only objects."

"Exactly. Curious, isn't it? Strange, that I didn't have that in mind when I – ", he paused with his gaze shortly at the windows, "Hermione. You need to destroy the cup and find Harry so you can get rid of the diadem as well. Each of you should take at least one fang with them, just in case you lose one. That out there is only the vanguard. A number of people acting on their own behalf, unwilling to wait for his orders. They have obviously discovered the oldest passageway, leading into the forest on the hills. It didn't come to my mind that it could still be intact, when I destroyed all other passages into the castle. So yes, hell is still ahead. The entrance to the chamber is beneath?", he pointed at the basins.

"Yes.", Ron nodded, having decided to rather wait patiently for more explanation. "But we'd need Parseltongue to open – "

"Step aside.", he threw an annoyed smirk. "That piece doesn't make any difference tonight."

Hermione rushed behind him, and Ron into a toilet cabin, peering out. Severus directed his wand at the basins – and gave it a mere flick. An enormous bang – dust in the air and a pile of exploded stone and ceramic, as well as pipes laid on the other side of the room. Two windows had shattered completely, three partly and water fountains sprinkled the surrounding from where the working basins had been.

"Bloody hell!", Ron gasped. "That was heavy!"

"Oh yes. A nice little blast.", Hermione giggled, almost sounding like Myrtle, stepping towards the hole and looking down. "A bit deep."

"Not really,", Ron considered, coming out of the cabin again. "It's quite fun, actually. Just Lockhart didn't like it too much.", he recalled.

"So that would be another of those moments I had to climb that rock for.", she chuckled. "Alright. Let's go. Severus?", she turned to him, seeing him standing there with a gentle smile, holding his wand with both hands, each at one end. "Um – ", his smile grew and he lightly shook his head. "What's – no. No! You're – ", she moaned. "That's not – _no!_ ", she on the other hand, shook her head wildly, curling her bruised lips.

"I am needed elsewhere.", he said calm.

"NO! Don't you – stand there – and – smile at me – _like this!_ ", she screamed, eyes watery.

"You do your job, and I do mine. I am still Headmaster. It is on me, to help my successor protect Hogwarts. If I went down with you, I couldn't forgive myself. It would be like a captain abandoning his ship."

"You are not.", her mouth formed, soundless.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine.", he softly patted on his own chest with his left hand. "She's with me. They both are.", Hermione understood, that he meant the locket, or rather, Lily and Harry. "They will help me to survive.", she bit her lower lip; ignoring the ache it caused; watching him getting closer and taking the hand in which she tightly held her wand. "Just make sure, those are gone.", he winked to the goblet in her other hand. "And Ronald, take care of her."

"For sure, I will!", he gave a moaning nod. "But what's this all about?"

"Hermione,", he stepped back, slowly letting go of her hand. "Remember the rule."

"Speak to no one about it.", she smirked with a rather pathetic laugh.

"And hope, that you will never have to use that curse again.", slightly sad, he spun around to go.

"Severus?", this time, he did turn back fully.

"Yes?"

"When this is over – "

"When all of this is finally over, then I'll retire.", he laughed. "I promise. No more lies. No more killings."

"I could actually live with the killings, if they are as bombastic and well meant like down there. But what I wanted to say – we – we'll have a huge bowl of dark chocolate and spearmint cream then.", a hesitant, blushing smile. "In – Hogsmeade."

"Are you asking me out?", he half winked with a broad smile.

"Maybe?", Hermione bit her lip again.

"Well, rather not Hogsmeade.", another wink and he left, his wide cloak and hair waving behind.

"What was _that_?", Ron murmured.

"Nothing.", she smiled. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

"Blimey, Hermione! What's going on here?"

" _Remember the rule,_ Ronald.", she said. "We aren't supposed to talk about it."

"Hermione!", but she had jumped already.

~~#~~

"Get away from there! Quick!", Minerva shouted, trying to make a group of bewildered students leave an exterior corridor she felt the need to evacuate because the substance of the corridor and the classroom they had been hiding in had gotten too weak. "Run! Run to the Trophy Room, through the outer passage, not the Great Hall! Miss Monahan – you know the way!"

"Professor!", a boy screamed, making her turn on the heels and see the black rushes of fog moving along the sheer endless corridor as well.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Minerva!", Horace came hurrying around a corner. "What are you doing here? That corridor is about to – oh no – they were still here?"

"Horace! Stop wondering about the students! Rather help me protect them!", she pointed at the approaching Death Eaters.

"Oh Lord!", he hurtled over to her, raising his wand.

A part of the black mass gained enormous speed, another person alike, joined in from the corridor Horace had jut come from. The latter threw a jinx, blocked with ease. Thorns of ice shot from Minerva's wand, only to be pushed aside, hitting the wall. There was a massive lilac jet cast by Horace's and fire erupting form Minerva's stick, but neither of those had a chance.

"For Heaven's sake, you two! You can do by far better!", Severus sank down, stomping towards her. "How is that supposed to defend anyone? You know why he calls his followers `Death Eaters´? Because they kill without mercy and they are damn good at it! Magic like this will cost them a laugh!"

"S-Severus – no – "

"It's all right, Horace. But who are those?", about fifty men and women behind him had closed up, landing as he did, in the still walking-safe part of the corridor, all of them wearing purple robes instead of black ones.

"The `others´, dear Igor mentioned. _My_ little army.", Severus smiled like he was at last ready to blow up the whole world. "Cinder, take your squad to the West Wing.", a woman with ash blond hair nodded, a number of them; flying in shadows again; followed her out of the open archway. "Neil, Remus might need some help. The Northern Battlements are weak.", another group parted off. "Igor, half of your troop will take those students to where Minerva said and wait for my orders in the Great Hall. I want the other half to guard the front meanwhile."

Igor grinned, baring his shiningly yellow teeth. Seconds later, all students and defected Death Eaters were gone and the three teachers stood alone. A rattle – dust came falling everywhere, followed by cracks spreading on the floor. The corridor was about to yield.

"My eyes were really not lying. You _are_ on our side. How does poor Tommy take that?", Minerva smirked.

"He has no idea.", Severus briefly wiggled his left eyebrow. "He is all clueless."

"How can you say?"

"Because what his powers can hide, will still drift through his eyes when he looks at me. I knew what he was about to do almost every time I could see his eyes. Unfortunate for him, he does not share my talent at all, even though people consider him as the greatest Legilimens and Occlumens ever wandering the world.", there was another quake and the cracks widened. "But this has got nothing to do with magic."

"Yes, yes, I have seen what you are capable of. I have seen it when you were just a child. But yet I ask – why has it to be Harry Potter to finish him off, if you could as well?"

"Because he said so. By the moment Harry got his scar, it was meant to be him until the very end. You should have asked Albus for a little more knowledge, Minerva. He left you pretty much colliding with walls in the dark, didn't he? It was all plan against plan, both doomed to fail at a single toe out of line. Hermione had made it hell for me to stick to my principles, but she has proven equally good in keeping secrets, eventually. She only mentions what doesn't bring anyone in danger, in a way it does not unveil our very own, immaterial cloak of invisibility."

"Granger is involved in – whatever complot this is?", Horace aspirated.

"Since one and a half years. No one must know. Especially not Harry. Please try to shut up in front of him."

Some parts of floor and ceiling sank in, the pillars outside gave away. The huge explosion had shattered the corridors below and it was a miracle this one still held. In horror, his colleagues watched yard after yard of the corridor tilting and sliding into the lightning struck night sky as they tried to balance on the spot. Severus took a quick glance over his shoulder.

"I hope, there aren't any students in the upper corridors this wing?"

"They should be all gone. If not, I fear we cannot save them anymore.", there was a heavy roar and the remaining corridors fell into the deep like sand running out of an upside-down held bottle of which someone had pulled the stopper.

"Enough of the talking!", he moaned over the heavy noise, all three almost on the floor that was barely still there. "Hogwarts needs every wand it can get and it would be a shame to throw ours into the abyss! I will take you down and you show me your real selves! Hold on tight!"

They reached for his held out arms just in time. A moment later, the whole wing fell into the canyon below.

~~#~~

Their eyes widened in shock when they saw what had caused the tremor. Hermione sat on a broom behind Ron, her arms wrapped tight around him, wand and cup in her hands again, plus a basilisk fang in each. Ron had carefully put one of them into each of his pockets. They hadn't bothered storing them in Hermione's pouch in case they needed them quicker. Too many of them had sat too firmly to be torn out successfully anyway.

Now they left the huge pipe a lot earlier than expected. Half of it was blasted away, Myrtle's bathroom gone. The whole front of the wing was missing, torn open rooms all down the building. The Quidditch pitch was on fire. Lost spells everywhere. Ron turned into the corridor he had come running through earlier. It was terribly damaged, but it could still be called a corridor. As fast as the old broom could do, Ron flew it in direction of the Room of Requirement – which wasn't easy because half of the castle didn't look like it had before they had arrived in Hogsmeade. It was like flying a chase in an entirely new place.

"Potter!", they heard Aberforth Dumbledore shout from not too far away.

Ron landed the broom carefully, so Hermione could get down first. Not able to hold it any longer, she presented the corner with all food that was left in her stomach. She didn't know what it was or why, but brooms – were just horrible. With fury, she rinsed out her mouth magically and wiped it clean, Ron's hand on her back. Fury because she hadn't forced Severus to teach her his way of flying.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, Ron. Thanks. I'm fine. I'll just – never get used to brooms, I'm afraid. Come on. Harry must be somewhere down these corridors. Quick!", they started running, Ron holding the fangs in his hands as well, so he wouldn't accidentally stab himself, and the Marauder's Map in between, searching for Harry's name among far too many unknown. "Severus was – right – we had only been – looking at hell – from a mountain above! If we can't – destroy the Horcruxes – before the mountain – collapses – we're all doomed – the _world_ – will be doomed!"

~~#~~

The doors of the Great Hall swung open as they approached it. Heads turning, screams. A man in purple came through the door at where normally the staff table was, leading to the back corridor and staircase. Severus dropped his stumbling colleagues shortly past the main door, conjured an invisible shield outside the big wings while heading on towards his warrior and landed gently in front of him.

"They are safe?", he asked him, a hand on his upper arm.

"Yes."

"Good. Get back down. Stay with Amanda. Send the injured students up with the others.", a nod and the man was gone through the door he had come from.

Severus let his eyes drift over the hall, confused faces staring at him, bare fear crumpling them. There she was: bent over a table next to a badly wounded fourth-year Hufflepuff, two older Ravenclaws desperately pressing their hands on the bleeding wounds while Madam Pomfrey was busy mixing a basic tonic. He rushed over to her, making her startle and drop a pipette. Dumbfounded, she watched him unbuttoning the upper part of his robe and shirt, getting out the pouch. He sat down to the bleeding girl's side, flicking his hand above the open, enlarged pouch. Flasks and phials and tiny bottles jumped out, staying floating in front of him. Done, he shrunk the pouch and tucked it back beneath his clothes, bringing them in order seemingly being unnecessary now. He then waved the vessels to the nurse's table. She sighed in relief, understanding, that he was really there to help.

"What about her, Severus?", she asked with a shaky voice, nodding to the girl.

"The wounds are too deep for those substances, Poppy.", he huffed after having gotten an idea of what they were dealing with. "But not for me.", eyes growing bigger with fascination, the nurse stared at him as he slowly moved his wand across the slashes accompanied by the quietly muttered healing spell he was most proud of, again and again. "That will do.", he was done and the breath of the student flattened down. "Dittany takes care of the rest.", he said to Poppy.

"Where have you learned that one from? I have never heard it before."

"I needed to find a way to defend myself against James."

"James? Not – James Potter, you mean?", she recalled.

"Exactly him. How would it have looked like if I had ended up in the Hospital Wing three times a week?", he sighed and stood up. "Unfortunately I have never managed to work it on myself."

"Don't say – you _invented_ it?"

Though he left her with a soft pat on her shoulder and to her thoughts, right when his followers would come flying up through the door behind, landing around their leader and marching after him, towards the quietly discussing Minerva and Horace. Hasty feet were running down the staircase outside.

"What an interesting sight!", the old man laughed, a pack of Aurors behind him, ordering some hurt students to get into the hall, the shield letting them through as they belonged to the exceptions Severus had spoken in mind when creating it. "And I thought I'd never see you again! Are they yours?", he waved about the purple dressed people behind Severus.

"Yes.", the latter nodded. "Grea' ter see ye, Aberforth."

"Same. So you send those strangers to the Northern Battlements? Thanks a bunch. We wouldn't have held them any longer. How could they get in when the shield's active and the tunnels are down? They didn't find out about our new one, did they? Couldn't go looking – "

"I'm afraid tha ancien' emergency exi' was still intac' an' a nice number o' solo-runners discovered tha'.", Severus sighed. "Where're ye headin'?"

"Main bridge."

"Wonderful. Minerva, Horace, ye may join 'im."

"I have sent the Armoury to the bridge long ago.", Minerva noted.

"Seen tha'.", he panted, wiped hair from his face and buttoned up his clothes. "Bu' they wun' be enough once tha shield's down."

"Down?", moaned Horace. "You think they will be able to break it? Not enough they entered through this still open passageway – but breaking the shield? That would mean – "

"Yes, tha' would mean exac'ly tha'. 'E'll be comin' straigh' through tha fron' gate wit' tha lo'. 'Undreds o' Death Eaters an' wor– ."

Several of his followers, unable to scream from the pain that sucked out their breath, clenched their hands on their left forearms like him. Squinting, he gasped for air and gritted his teeth, a slight smile rising when the pain, along with the images popping up faintly before his eyes, was gone.

"What was that?", Minerva was worried.

"Thank ye – ", he sighed with a slight moan. "'E 'as jus' been brough' one step closer ter die.", Minerva looked confused. "Though I think, 'e may no longer be willin' ter wai' now. Filius is still in tha yard, I assume?"

"That is where I left him.", Minerva confirmed. "He is holding it with some more Aurors and people from the Order."

"Perfec'. We need tha bes' forces ou' there. When tha shield breaks, tha fron' door mus'n' fall. Gian's will be comin' over tha bridge. 'E 'as, as I said, a few 'undred Death Eaters still waitin' on tha hills. Aberforth. No, I repea', _no_ Dementors mus' ge' in. I coun' on ye.", the old man nodded. "Half of you,", Severus continued addressing his warriors with more caution about his speech, "To the docks. Harold, Elaine, Margaret, watch the fallen East Wing in case some might start thinking and see the open corridors as their chance to enter. Igor – I need you to assist Minerva. I cannot order anyone to kill, if their ethics are against it, especially not her. Finish what she starts."

"With pleasure, my friend.", Igor sneered and tightened his silvery white ponytail.

"The rest of you, with me to the Woodside Bridge. There are some Snatchers waiting to have fun. Let it be our fun instead."

"Snatchers?", Minerva shrieked. "But I have sent Longbottom and Finnigan there to take the bridge down! They'd be doomed if it doesn't explode in time!"

There was a flashing light from the windows. Everything went silent, as if all sound had been sought from the world. Then, a massive cracking like the ice on a frozen lake breaking. Thin light blue glowing lines spread across the night sky. The shield collapsed. Burning pieces glided down like transparent silk in flames and paralysed, they watched the shield fall in for about a minute or more, unconscious, listening to the screams outside getting louder. The army was on the move.

"They are through – ", Horace aspirated, being pulled outside by Aberforth.

"Quick, Horace! There isn't much time!"

"Minerva – ye need ter – ", he swallowed shortly, looking around. "I will qui'e likely no' survive 'is nigh'. 'E does no' know wha' I've done, bu' there is another reasons fer 'im ter kill me. If 'e should figure ou' Albus' secre', we wun' be seein' each other again."

"Severus – "

Deafening silence in the hall once more, wild screams getting even louder outside, mingled with the sound of exploding stone and the roars of the Giants. They had reached the bridge. Severus took a deep breath, lowering his head, eyes closed for a moment of composure. Then he spoke to Igor, looking straight into his friend's eyes.

"Igor, do your duty. I thank you truthfully for having sent me on this insane trip.", he took the bewildered man in his arms for some seconds and stroked his shoulder when they parted. "Minerva, it was an honour ter 'ave known ye."

"Severus?", she chuckled, having thrown panicking looks outside ever since the shield was completely down. "What are you talking there? What do you mean?"

"Remember me words. _Try ter survive_.", he begged and took a another deep breath for composing himself. "The Wizarding School of Hogwarts is yours, Headmistress Minerva Diana McGonagall. I shall leave all command to you. May you name as your Deputy whom you consider worthy.", there was a slight tremor going through the school walls and a ringing in their ears; he lightly bowed his head. "Albus wanned it like 'is an' so do I."

"Severus – ", Igor started, "He is not – "

"'T's been qui'e a while since I've seen Lily.", he said with a prepared, but teary smile. "I think I am ready now; it's time ter pay 'er a visi'.

"Severus – no – no, no, no, _no_! Нет, мои бабочка!", he whimpered and tears were filling his crystal blue eyes as he grabbed Severus face, his hair growing longer and becoming grey. "There must be another way!"

"No.", Severus replied honest, fighting back his own tears at the sight and he pulled Igor into another embrace. "Sh. Don't cry."

"You can't forbid me to! You can't! As much as you can't allow yourself to simply kneel down and die!"

"If I die, I promise, I will not kneel down."

"That is – n-no difference!", Igor chuckled. "N-not to me! You are the o-only one I have! Don't go! Don't l-leave me alone! I need you!"

"You won't be alone.", Severus bit his lip. "You will have a family."

" _You_ are my family!", he was pushed off by two strong hands on his shoulders and the others found their way back onto Severus' cheeks, trembling.

"We'll meet again, Gorij. You know we will."

"But when! What use is living – "

"There is much use in living.", he wiped the tears off Igor's face and replaced them with a kiss on each freckly cheek and his forehead, then brushed one of the grey strands that had loosened by the growth, behind Igor's ear. "Live for me then, if you see no other use. Seek the eye of the storm and live."

"Severus – ", Igor curled his lips with another moan, shushed by a brotherly kiss.

"Я люблю тебя."

"Я знаю – я тоже тебя люблю – пожалуйста – не улетать – "

"До за́втра. My lot?", Severus then let go as he addressed the rest of his army, still waiting behind. "The students at the Woodside Bridge might need our aid. Minerva, Gorij, good luck."

With that, he rushed off in black fog, followed by the rest of his pack and a hand that had reached after him, fell slackly into the encouraging palms of an elderly woman, who didn't believe herself either that she dragged him from the hall.

The Giants were already attempting to cross the bridge, blocked by the massive stone statues and suits of armour. Death Eaters – Aurors – older students – volunteers – in between everywhere, running and flying. The air was filled with the light of the cast spells and curses and their incantations. A heavy explosion. A big part of the tower around the moving stairs collapsed; burning roofs all around.

Shooting Killing Curses on every secure target, he led his delegation through the chaos above the grounds. There was another loud bang, followed by a grand fire ball that sped across the canyon. The bridge broke in, taking dozens of Snatchers with it into the deep. An enormous rest of them, too shocked to move, was still on the other side. Yet those further away from the bridge, ran screaming from a pair of flickering, bumping, madly circling pair of white as well as red lights that knocked over whoever was in their way.

Severus rushed into the yard and settled between the broken spring and the remains of the roofed bridge. Seconds later, a small group of students came hurrying towards him and his people.

"Snape!", Neville Longbottom yelled, his voice shaking with exhaustion, Ginevra Weasley running at his side, seeming to have regained strength. "You! That's not true, is it?

"Nice work.", Severus smiled satisfied, when they slid to halt, only six feet away, all of them; except Ginevra; raising their wands. "You have depleted them quite effectively. Though, the biggest number of them is still on the hills. They will find other ways, now that the shield is down."

"Severus – ", Ginevra aspirated, "They found you?", she nodded to the people behind him. "Great! What now?"

"Enjoy life while your blood is still running through your veins. Show those _little runabouts_ what real magic is.", his smile widened and the remaining warriors took off, flying across the canyon. "Get inside. All of you."

"What the – ", Neville lowered his wand, his yes rushing between him and the girl.

"Where have you brought Hermione?", Ginevra urged.

"She is safe. So should be you. Get inside, then I can shut the door be– ", something distracted him.

He pointed his wand to the sky. Awestruck, the group watched a green bolt rising and forming a horizontal spiral when he spun his wand. Then he pierced up, right when some shadows came rushing over the last piece of the bridge. The curse spread like a wheel of bolts, each of them hitting one of the shadows. About ten Death Eaters fell from the sky, lifeless.

"What was that?", Cho Chang muttered.

"There's something like an advanced Killing Curse?", Ginevra asked flabbergasted. "And you can cast it nonverbally? Amazing!", her face just cost him a grin.

"There are still a few things Lord Voldemort doesn't know, and if simply because he was too lazy to pay attention to the nature of things. If he did, we all would have had to dig our own graves the moment we had been born. Get inside.", he repeated. "Hold Hogwarts from within."

Neither of them understanding, they followed Neville into the castle. Ginevra however remained, watched by the others who spun around once they had passed the doors and noticed that she wasn't with them.

For a second they just looked into one another's eyes, then Ginevra threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her to his chest, as close as he could without hurting her. His face buried in her shoulder, his fingers dug into the clothes on her back like hers did at his shoulder blades. Some moments only passed, but they let go with gratitude that they had had that chance, and Ginevra brushed her free left hand over his face, her palm coming to rest on his right cheek then, which she stroked while she placed a soft kiss on the other.

"Thank you – Dad.", she whispered with a smile of sadness, tears successfully fought back, and turned to go already, but he foiled her attempt by holding her face in both his hands, returning the kiss to her forehead.

"Anythin' fer tha lo' o' ye, me foxy.", he smiled back, his hands now on her shoulders.

Granting her and himself just a couple more seconds, he gently patted her head. But she dragged his hand off there, squeezed it tightly two times as she stepped backwards, and their fingers lost touch when she had fully turned for the doors, running already. Completely perplexed, her friends accepted her wordless in their middle and she rushed around to see him a last time, when the heavy doors were closing on a wide wave of his wand.

The doors fell shut, right when another number of Death Eaters flew towards those. Some of them screamed with rage, others tried to bomb the doors away, but the castle would refuse this time. Severus was standing right behind them, looking at them with an evil smirk. He didn't know why, but seeing them fail at something as simple as an old gate when the walls above were broken, gave him the brightest pleasure, yet it was disappointing to find mankind fallen that deep.

For about a minute or two, he watched them arguing like little children in front of the thick, huge doors. A man let out a cry of anger, throwing his wand away as if it was a tool that had stopped working from one second to the other. Then his arm hurt similar to before, though he swallowed it down. The Death Eaters clutched their arms however, some gasping in surprise. Harry's shields meanwhile were that good, and the connection of the cracked pieces of soul so feeble, he saw even less than he had in the hall. End was nigh.

"Does it not open, Nott?", Severus sneered, making the Death Eaters turn, forgetting about the pain. "Pity."

"It is, innit?", Nott laughed and walked over to the archway to get back his wand. "I s'ppose we need ter fin' another way then, righ'?"

"Oh I fear there is no other way.", Severus sighed, slowly pacing towards them.

"What?"

"Yes, you heard me, Avery. No, other, way.", the intensity of his self-satisfied smile dazzled each of them.

"What do you mean by `no other way´, Snape? There are plenty of other ways. Come on. With you, we can strike them d-"

"No, no other way than this specific one.", there was a jet of green light and Avery fell to his knees, dead.

"What's this madness, Snape?"

"And you will join your son as well, Crabbe."

"My son? What's with my son?"

"According to Draco Malfoy's emotions, your son just died by his own inability to control the by far most powerful magic he had ever unleashed. You may wish to join him, don't you? I couldn't live a second, knowing my son to be dead. Luckily, mine isn't; moreover owning the night, I can gladly say."

"Sn-", another flash and Crabbe was down as well.

"You foul bastard! Avada Kedavra!", one of them yelled, but the curse was blocked with ease.

"Achoo! Bless you, Jugson.", and that one died as well.

"You can't be meaning this!", a woman yelled. "You loathsome bugger! Trait-", she collapsed under another of his green glowing spells.

There were more Killing Curses, but each of them was directed straight back to their casters. A black mass of fog came floating into the scene, in such an awkward way it looked almost like a torn cloak had sailed down from the ruins. Completely off his senses and unaware of the situation he had gone off into at the deep end, a man with long blond hair, beard unshaved, robe and skin dirty, landed in front of Severus, terror in his swollen, crying eyes.

If it hadn't been for Severus' reaction, he would have been killed by the next curse that had also missed Severus by an inch. He had grabbed him and pushed him forcefully to the stone floor, sending back a green flash at the same time. Gasping, Lucius Malfoy looked around, crawling behind Severus who blocked every incoming spell, resulting in green fireworks, the one and other spell hitting another Death Eater. Some seconds later, darkness returned to the yard, only lightened by the fires on the roofs and the battle in the distance. He turned around and pulled Lucius back up with ease.

"Sorry. It was only for your best.", Lucius nodded, still seeming rather absent.

"Thank you.", he aspirated. "I don't know – what I thought."

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be on theses grounds. Where is Narcissa?"

"She – is – she's f-fine.", whispered Lucius.

"Good."

"S-Severus – where is my son?"

"I don't know.", Severus said honest, eyes narrowing with sadness as he saw that the once so proud man had crumpled back to this miserable wreck he had been after returning from Azkaban.

"The Dark Lord – he – sent me – f-for – you – "

"You tell me no news. I was already waiting for that.", Severus sighed.

"Severus – you don't think he knows – what have you done? How many else have you killed?", Lucius pleaded for answers, but Severus would just shake his head with a smile.

"He does not know. Not that. Unless he has seen any of my warriors – "

"Warriors?"

"Remember the list he had given me? The list of deserted followers?"

"Yes – "

"I didn't kill a single one of those. I recruited them. Hermione Granger had brought me on an idea, which she had actually gotten from the Dark Marks. Coins. Manipulated Galleons that work very similar to the Mark. Together with Igor I travelled around the world on that weekend, seeking for them, only to give them one of these coins. They are all here, fighting for me in the very moment."

"B-but – the curse – you showed him – t-that was – Igor himself! At – at last – "

"No, just deathly ill Madam Canham I had given some Polyjuice Potion before I released her. I killed her, fully dressed in Igor's clothes, in the middle of Knockturn Alley. So the rumour of his death even reached the Ministry. He himself, disguised as a Ministry employee who _coincidentally_ had happened to be there at the moment, pretended to fight me and brought her body away before she transformed back. Although we could have done better if he had told me sooner how he had survived that other attack down in Kielder."

"Severus – that is – just – brilliant! I didn't know that this spell could be fooled so easily!", Lucius gaped, visibly having stopped paying attention before his last sentence. "And he – the Lord – he doesn't know anything at all?"

"No, he does not know. But I am afraid, he knows something equally fatal. Lucius – stay with Narcissa – take shelter."

"And Draco – "

"He will be fine, don't worry. Your son is strong and an amazing dueller, if necessary.", he finally stuck his wand into his left sleeve and embraced Lucius. "Go.", he whispered into the other man's ear. "Go, my friend. Take care.", he let go, brushing Lucius' arms.

"Severus – he – won't – "

"Go."

Lucius nodded acceptingly, becoming just a whirl of black when Severus removed his hands. His friend flew off across the collapsed walls, vanishing inside the school. Severus took one more deep breath and looked further up at the destroyed towers and walls, over to the area around the entrance courtyard where the battle had unfolded. From the forest, screaches joined the already distant screams of the fleeing snatchers. He needn't search the sky, as one in the sky had searched him: Two Thestrals shot down into the ruins and, accompanied with surprised screams, they picked Seamus Finnigan and Ernie Macmillan by their collars, flew them back out and simply dropped them one after the other, easily behind Luna flying a brief circle on Buckbeak, who didn't even protest on the increase of weight

The bewildered boys clinging to her, she threw Severus a wave and smile and shot off with half the Thestral herd on the Hippogriff's hooves. Although the scene had reassured him, it had not been enough to vanquish Harry's despair he felt throbbing hard against the insides of his own heart. Only seconds after the creatures had gone from his sight, he spotted an enormous black mass drawing near the front courtyard, coming from the bridge. He could just see it through the arches, and a flicker of the grey creature lighted by the spells around, as it dove into the yard.

He wanted to fly over too, but something else inside him told him, he had settled his affairs and was not to help. Now it was their turn. All he could do was trying to make his heart push inward the hammering and send it back to Harry with hope and love and to keep up the more than justified faith in Luna's abilities.

Then, a flash, of bright silvery blue illuminating what was still dark, putting those hundreds of Dementors to rout with seeming ease at last. No tears, only preparedness.

"Thank ye, ye brightes' o' moon's beams.", he aspirated, no tears this time, from either side of his heart, just an ultimate calm smile. "I'll miss ye all. Harry me swee'har' – I love ye."

His cloak spinning, he flew off in curls of black fog, down to the Whomping Willow with the small dots of running Harry and Hermione and Ron disappearing in the corner of his eye, past its whipping branches that pestered a number of Snatchers who had escaped, and into the tunnel, magically drilling through the rubble before the tree could even get notice of him.

~~#~~


	56. Chapter 55 - All that is left

– Chapter 55 –

 **All that is left**

Dust fell from the destroyed roof, glittering in the early morning sun shining into the Great Hall. Ginevra stood in the middle of the staff podium, only feet away from Fred's dead body. Hermione had left her there when she had followed Harry and Ron to wherever in the demolished castle, not much later chased by McGonagall. She had left her alone with a message. Suddenly Fred's body seemed miles away. Hollow-eyed, she looked across the hall, only her mother seeming to see her. On the other side, Madam Pomfrey and some Healers that had arrived from St Mungo's, had given up on Padma's backbones.

"What's legs.", her sister, Katie, Leanne and Cho were more in tears than herself. "The war's over. Who needs legs.", she smiled up from the stretcher, apparently painless.

Ginevra felt some knot in her throat, but decided to ignore it. She had a message to tell. Holding tight to a special cup of tea she had asked a Houseelf to bring her, she curled her lips, swallowed and raised her shaking voice.

"Listen everyone!", she shouted, some heads were turning to her, people whispering and pointing. " _I said,_ _listen_ _!_ "

The hall fell silent. Many stared at her with confusion, others tried to see her through their tears or past friends. Padma sat up; that much she could still feel her hips. But the other girls supported her nevertheless.

"Everyone knows, we've had a terrible year. We've been scared, kept locked in, tortured – ", the reactions among some first-years were the strongest, "Or worse, climaxing into last night's battle. Finally, this horrible war is over."

There were murmurs of agreement, but also heads shaking, as if willing to stop her from reminding them. As if meaning to stop her from what she was doing before she had even started.

"I'm not done yet. Last night, many people died. People we knew – people we didn't know – for the one or other reason – but they died for something. Because, they had something worth dying for. Without them, we wouldn't be here. Without our friends, brothers,", her tears were back, "Sisters, even p-parents – without all those, we wouldn't be here now, without those who fought. And there is one person, I would like to say my special thanks to, though I don't know whether he'll hear me.", Neville was slackly struggling against some Essence of Dittany that was dripped onto his wounds by Professor Sprout. "We all had our differences with him. But that was only, because he had played his part so well, that not even the person considered to be the best Legilimens of all time, could get the truth out of his head. For years he's fooled us all, making us believe in the end that he was Voldemort's man. But in fact he fooled Voldemort. In fact, he was Dumbledore's man through and through."

"Get to the point!", someone chuckled grimly.

"Shut up!", she cried back. "If you don't have time for this, why did you even fight? The man I'm talking about, is Severus Snape.", whispers filled the hall again; Draco raised his head. "Keep that for later. I don't know how long I can stand this, okay?", she silenced the mass.

"But he _killed_ Dumbledore!", Justin noted, while Neville was already crawling across the floor, past dumbfounded students, ignoring Madam Sprouts muttered protest.

"Yes, that's true. But it was really Dumbledore's wish, just like Harry said. Dumbledore was already dying from a curse. Severus only relieved him on his own will. And trust me, that _is_ the truth. Severus dedicated almost twenty years of his life to the downfall of Voldemort. And last night, he's brought a small army of defected Death Eaters here, to fight among us and for us. Some of you might have seen them. Each and everyone of them saved many lives, not few of them, letting their own by doing so. Severus himself, wasn't the coward that has fled through a window.", she exemplary pointed on the shattered glass behind. "He'd left to call his warriors.", at least she hoped that last bit was right as well. "Because he knew that it would be the night that would change our world forever. _Severus Snape, was one of us!_ "

Heavy tears fell from her brown eyes. Draco's head sank, not shaking anymore, not crying anymore. He knew now, what he had to do with his life, though her words seemed too far away to him – he could hardly understand why he even heard them, why he even listened. Neville had crawled up to the podium where he halted sitting sideways, but Ginevra didn't bother him.

"He fought for us! He fought for our lives! For our future!", she paused, biting her lip. "He was prepared to do everything for us, to give everything. He was ready to _kill_ for us! And some of my friends and I have witnessed that. He killed many Death Eaters last night. Many people that didn't bother murdering helpless children. If it wasn't for him – I think none of us would be here anymore. He saved our lives as much as Harry did.", she swallowed, shaking, "He fought for something good. He fought for friendship, for love – and – he – gave his life for it – eventually."

There wasn't a single sound left in the hall. Everyone except Draco; who now closed his eyes to hold back more tears he didn't want to cry; only stared at Ginevra, whose washed face was stern and even a little proud. Behind her closed lips, she pressed her teeth together for the moment she took a deep breath through her blocked nose. Narcissa took her son's hands with her right. It was even. No marks, no lines, could be seen in her skin. By discovering that, Draco knew that Ginevra was telling the truth, just like Harry had.

Ginevra continued crying heavier than she had ever had, her voice thronging out towards the students and staff of Hogwarts, the Aurors, the volunteers, the Houseelves, the Ghosts, Grawp looking into the hall from a shattered window, all the families and friends that were gathered there.

"Last night, Professor Severus Amalius Snape died for all of us! He _fought_ for all of us! And he did that until his very last breath! He was a great man! A brave man! A man of joy, regardless of the _dark_ and – _difficult_ – path he'd chosen for himself! But if anyone has ever seen him smiling just _once_ the way I had seen him do, they'll know now that I'm right! He was a man full of life and had a very enthusiastic will to support life! So, no matter how much you detested this mask of his he had put on every day so properly, you should accept that he laid it down at the end of all things and showed his true self! And it would be wonderful if we; should it be on today's anniversaries, or the ninth of January, which was indeed his birthday; raised a cup of his favourite spearmint tea and said ` _thank you_ ´!"

Only then, she lifted the cup filled with said tea, raised it to the hall and drank half of it in one go. Neville had stood up, but she left the podium marching, determined through the rows of people covered in blood and dirt, clutching her cup tightly as she went with more tears splashing. Where she went once she turned for the front courtyard, no one would get to see, but they were not supposed to know that she picked up an abandoned broom, swung herself on it and flew down to the destroyed stands of the Quidditch pitch, those black ruins, half burnt down, collapsed like her insides.

And she braked feet before the only hoop that was left, drained the cup and threw it through the ring while she already flew for the back of it, where she easily caught the cup quicker than it had fallen lower than her flying level.

She did that a couple of times. Thirty-eight times, to be precise. Then she rushed for the ground, sat down smoothly on the singed grass and sunk to her knees.

At the nearest edge of the forests, a crow that had just calmed down for some sleep, was flushed by a terrible scream.

~~#~~

"I've had enough trouble for a lifetime.", Harry said, Dumbledore's portrait smirking behind.

"Yeah. Still – ", Ron wanted to argue again.

"It's not the wand.", Hermione breathed sadly. "It's never about the wand. Well, it is, in this case maybe, but in general, it's really not about the wand. As a great man once told me, _`A wand is none other than a piece of wood filled with a magical creature's token, concentrating the power of a mind to a bound beam. If the mind is weak, the wand is useless.´_ Think about it, Ron.", she secretly loved herself for her memory.

"Hermione, you really should learn to control that quirk of yours.", laughed Harry. "Even after seven years, it's scary. But not as scary as the thought that there are still people out there, who might be ready for slaughter, just for the mere chance of finding this wand. Perhaps we were too quick. We should have waited for all Death Eaters to be dead. Now they're crawling around hell only knows where, probably already trying to figure out a way to regain power."

"That's a cruel thing to say, Harry.", muttered Hermione.

"Perhaps. But I just wish the loyal ones to be found and justice to be prevailed as soon as possible."

"A great man?", Dumbledore asked, before she could start arguing on it.

"Who had a favour for – ", she blushed, "Dark chocolate and spearmint.", she then hushed, turning away from the chuckling Dumbledore who understood, logically.

"Wait – Snape?", Ron frowned. "Oh – I see – what about that stupid rule now?"

"He's involved, okay?", she bellowed with unexpected fury, pointing fiercely at Dumbledore's portrait. "Or – rather – had been.", she paused, but raged on. "He knows and I don't care about the rest of paint hanging in here. So yes, from now on the rule applies again.", her arms crossed, she threw him a definite look. "If you don't want to be my shortest relationship, stick to it."

"At last?", Dumbledore smiled?

"Yes. At last.", Hermione huffed.

"Hang on, Hermione – shortest relationship? You had like – _one_ , remember? Vicky?"

"Vicky?", Hermione moaned, her mouth standing wide open with indignation. " _Vicky_?", she laughed, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. "Now, _change of topic_ – if _you_ remember, we still have a fallen soldier out there.", that moment, McGonagall entered the office, receiving a similar cheer to the one the trio had found themselves presented with.

"Enough, you old baboons.", she smiled, visibly charmed. "What a nice party you have here. Miss Granger, may I have a word with – Potter?", she had been the only one to see him wince; his friends spun around at her worried stare and all eyes were directed at him once again, as he searched the office in panic, for something that didn't seem to be in the same place.

"Harry?", he vaguely heard Hermione's voice, all thoughts of warm beds or sandwiches eradicated. "Harry!", but all he cared for was –

"Did you hear that?", Hermione looked frightened as well.

"Hear what?"

"Someone – someone screamed – ", hurrying to the still intact window, he barely saw them exchanging concerned looks in the corner of his eye.

"Harry,", Dumbledore said softly, but he was already searching the devastated grounds for any sign of a source, for another to follow, so he could locate her. "No one screamed, and I am sure, my ears are as functioning as ever. It is merely all the horror you have seen, which is now pouring down onto you."

"No – I'm sure that was Ginny – "

"Ginny?", Ron murmured panicking as well, but Hermione silenced him with a gesture.

"Harry,", she now addressed him as softly as the old man's painting had, though not nearly as calming, and he slowly turned to her, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely.", he aspirated to the window again.

"Did – did that happen before?", their eyes met for a second, but he then pondered seriously.

"I – ", he didn't know whether to tell –

"I'm sure she just let her frustration out,", that made him look at her again and let go of the windowsill.

"Hermione – what're you – ", Ron started but was cut off another time.

"Don't scare yourself too much, Harry. That might just happen again."

"What do you mean – ", he studied her exhausted but certain expression.

"You'd better get used to it."

"Hermione – "

"Professor McGonagall. Whatever word you meant to be having with me, that can wait. I have a duty to attend to.", Hermione said and took a deep breath. "If you care or not, Ron, I will go to the Shrieking Shack."

"The – the Shrieking Shack, Miss Granger?", McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "What business would you have to do there?"

"Retrieving a fallen soldier.", Harry answered.

"So you come with me?", Hermione looked at him, pleading.

"Rather not. I – don't know – why – but – I don't – think I can – ", having seen his memories, knowing all these things about him, the thought of seeing his dead body again, gave him creeps, and Hermione knew.

"Okay.", she nodded sadly, understanding far better than he could probably imagine. "Professor McGonagall, if you though still insist on that word, you could join me. But only if you feel strong enough to take the walk."

"Miss Granger, it is a quite long walk to the Shrieking Shack,"

"Oh – yeah – Seamus bombed the bridge.", she squinted her eyes. "Damn."

"But a short flight on a broom."

"No, thanks, Professor. I'd rather take a Thestral then."

"Very well, but those have hidden deep in the forest, as far as I am concerned."

"Harry?", she held out her arm with a snort, "Give me the map, please."

"The map doesn't change, when a passage collapses.", Harry said.

"I know.", she hissed. "They are all down anyway. Even Aberforth's, I assume, after that hellfire. I saw the Whomping Willow burning as well some time after we left. I don't think anyone can ever pass that tunnel again either. All I want to know is whether Luna's still in the Great Hall."

With interest, everyone around watched her flipping over the many layers of the Marauder's Map, looking for the name. She wasn't in the Great Hall. There were many names moving around, overlapping even, but Luna's was not one of them. Hermione continued searching. Two more layers down, she found her – at the field where the flying lessons normally had been held. There was another lone name a little further away, but she did not dare mentioning it. Yet she noticed Harry had spotted it.

"She's off to the Quidditch pitch, Madam."

"But what would she do there?"

"She's Luna. She has her own way of thinking. If she feels the need to go somewhere, she simply does.", Hermione smiled sadly with her wand pointed on the map. "Mischief managed.", she said, handing back the cleared, folded mass of parchment. "I believe, the Thestrals could be there."

The early sunlight fell through the holes everywhere in the castle, making the dust glisten like swarms of tiny fairies. Even though nothing seemed intact, it was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Quite ironic. She heard Luna talking in her head. _There is beauty in everything, Professor. Even in death. Because, if there is beauty in life, it also has to be in death since they are connected to one another._ She was right, Hermione thought, at last. He, like Dumbledore, had actually found some kind of salvation in death. The end of a long journey of suffering. He could be together with Lily now. And she had Ron. Though – it might not be easy. But she loved both of them. Either way was alright for her, as long as everyone would find peace by the outcome of the battle and learn from the pain a war could bring. Thinking about it now, having watched his eyes fall shut after they had looked straight into Harry's, seemed not such a horrible memory anymore.

Nobody was wandering around the castle. Almost everyone was down in the Great Hall. She heard Peeves singing in the distance. They reached the gilded, singed doors. Those still conscious enough to act, were talking to others or treating the wounded ones. A quiet murmur floated through the hall. The remaining Houseelves had prepared breakfast and people were eating or drinking tea, with them, lastly as equals. Though hungry, and the sight casting a smile on her face, eating would be the last thing Hermione would consider doing now.

Filch was pushing dust aside with a broom. It cost her another smile. Irony, yes. He just seemed to do it to do – anything but sitting around, being stared at. But when she looked closer, at the direction of his movement, she found him shovelling the heaps at a certain point: vaguely visible in the cloud of dust, only due to his ghostly skin, he laid among a number of his former followers. Lifeless. Beaten. Remains of a human existence. This was the proof that he had been human, in the end, but in spite of his hunger for power; or rather due to that; too powerless to find his way to humanity.

If Filch buried him there with this knowledge, or just to get him away from everyone's sight, get him away so nobody would have to look at him anymore, she didn't know. But she understood that Severus might have buried him, probably in Little Hangleton. Severus would have, she was sure. But she would never witness that moment. He was gone. Half of his life he had only lived for that moment, to see Tom Riddle lie there, dead, released, and Harry alive. But he wouldn't. That had been the price. A life for a life. The Cloak had passed on.

But what was that? In that heap of dust, right there by Voldemort's body, as though it had fallen out of his pocket, something very small, something golden glistened. Curious, Hermione stepped closer, fixating the object as good as she could, trying to keep herself from looking at the corpse. Close enough, she briefly crouched down and picked up the object, blowing the dust off it: it was a golden ring, small enough to have fitted a woman's toe. At its inside, the dust had made some engraving more visible. Squinting, she tried to decipher the delicate lines, unintentionally reading them in a whisper. Part of it was a date.

"Nineteenth of October – nineteen ninety-six? Ch- what? Charity Elisabeth – and – "

Before she could read the second name, her whispers got killed by a shriek. Something had just snatched the ring from her fingers. Baffled, she stared after the bird that flew out through the front gate and away with the piece of jewellery.

"Bernard!", she snorted.

"What?", McGonagall gasped.

"That bloody bird! Why the – never mind."

"I could send Mrs Norris for it – "

"Too kind of you, Mr Filch, but no. Spare your cat the heart attack. Let's move on, Madam."

An endless appearing silent time later, they walked down the burnt grass, her anger having faded on the way. Rubble everywhere, dead bodies everywhere, all wearing black robes. No one left to care for them. Whether they had been following him by will or force, it didn't matter. The friends were more important than the enemies. Corpses – rubble – it all seemed so familiar – like a dead cesspool. Glowing morning fog, not water. Instead of dirty cupboards and tiles, ghostly ruins in whitely shimmering smoke. This time, the dead moved no more. None left to slap her. The one who had done so ages ago, was staggering by her side, breathing unsteady at what they were forced to look at and the terrible smell. There was also the one or other dead body with purple robes. Robes like –

"Professor – ", Hermione gargled, not taking her eyes off one of them while walking, the shining white ponytail alarming her. "Is that – no!", McGonagall turned, pushed the body onto his back and checked some vital functions, confirming Hermione's horrid assumption.

"Oh goodness – ", she could see tears trailing down from the woman's eyes as she bent down to close the lids on Igor Karkaroff's light blue crystals that had lost their shine to cold emptiness, his lips shut over the yellow teeth that would never be bared for a lively grin again. "He has – saved my life – quite a number of times tonight – he – he had been Severus' friend til death – Severus – have you seen him, Miss Granger? Or is it true, what Potter said?"

"Where do you think, we are going?", Hermione's lips were trembling and even thicker tears flowed down her cheeks when she pointed her wand at Igor's body, making it turn into a bone, impregnated it and levitated it into her pouch.

"What are you doing?"

"He deserves a proper funeral.", she mumbled, pulling the strings of her pouch. "As well. I think I should bury him – with – with his – best friend – "

Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. Her knees gave in. Breaking into heavy tears, she sank to the ground. McGonagall went over to her and knelt down, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder. Understanding, she pulled her into her arms, both sobbing quietly for several minutes.

When the two parted slightly at last, Hermione reached into the pouch around her shoulder again. It was right on top, as though it had been waiting for her. She pulled it out, hands shaking. A white cotton handkerchief. Closing her washed eyes, she clutched it with all fingers after she had put her wand away. McGonagall's hand enclosed hers, trembling as much.

Someone came walking towards them, looking unnaturally untouched – just as if she hadn't been there that night. No dirt, no torn clothes, no tears, no wounds. Just she, wearing her self knitted, sparkling and colour changing woollen skirt, socks and hat, along with a light blue, very old looking cardigan. No shoes. Her long blond hair waving in the soft morning breeze, she came striding out of dust, fog and settling smoke, like a strange fairy, flanked by two Thestrals.

The whole scene had something odd, funny, totally absurd and yet beautiful and powerful to it. Hermione couldn't help laughing a little. Luna came to halt in front of the two, so did the Thestrals, as if on her silent command. One of them however walked over to a woman, nudged the body in purple. Hermione's heart nearly stopped. The woman stirred. With a quiet moan, she returned to consciousness. Eerily hollow, echoing through the morning air, the Thestral sent a call. From further away, another two came flying, sat down gently.

They could do nothing but watch. Carefully, the two Thestrals heaved the woman to her feet, though she could not stand on her own. They supported her, helped her up on the back of the Thestral that had called and made sure she wouldn't fall off. One stayed while the other escorted the carrier, walking away over the field, towards the castle. For a while, Hermione looked after them, stunned. But eventually she turned her head on Luna. The girl's face looked empty, yet with a faint smile. A single tear trickled from her right eye now.

"He is gone, isn't he?", she said in her usual dreamy voice, but somehow lofty now. "Don't cry, Hermione, Professor McGonagall.", she spoke on, ignoring her own tears coming like from a different body than hers. "He will be fine. Is that something he gave to you?", she briefly looked down at the handkerchief and Hermione nodded. "That is wonderful. So you have something to reawaken your memory, should it ever fade. The vest I'm wearing – it was my mother's. She loved it when she was at school. You surely know, Professor."

"Luna? Would you mind coming with us?", Hermione composed herself and helped McGonagall up. "I was going to bury him. In Godric's Hollow."

"That is where Harry's mother died.", noticed Luna; Hermione shivered.

"Yes. I think he would have wanted to be buried along with her and James."

"But he was enemies with James – ", McGonagall began.

"Not as much as he showed. In fact, he had a deep bond to him – and he loved Lily. Lily was his reason. She always was. It – it just seems right – "

"You loved him, didn't you?", Luna said, making McGonagall gasp. "I – I think he loved you too, in ways. You see – the Patronus – and – he was wearing the scarf, you know? On your birthday, and all last winter. When the Carrows complained about the stars, he would just walk off, with a smile they didn't see.", Hermione dropped her shoulders, lips curling. "Where has he left?", she found it wonderful that Luna named it `leaving´, rather than `dying´.

"The Shrieking Shack.", Hermione said flat.

"Now that's a rather funny place to go to for meeting the dead, don't you think?"

"Voldemort summoned him there, to kill him for a reason that wasn't a reason, rather than the reason that would have been one.", she said it so fast, she wasn't even sure whether she had circumscribed it right.

"Is that what he meant before he left?", McGonagall asked, obviously being curious. "Severus said that Voldemort didn't know – _that, but something else_. That – _left you pretty much colliding with walls in the dark_ – ", she mumbled. "He wasn't killed for having betrayed him – "

"Yes, and no.", Hermione smirked. "The reason he killed him for was part of the betrayal, but Voldemort didn't know it was, nor do I think, he understood what Harry told him."

"Which would be – "

"Something Severus was _ready_ to die for.", all her tears had stopped running. "He was ready. Like Lily, like Dumbledore – like Harry – ", she broke off.

"I take it, you will not be telling me the full story, Miss Granger? He said you would speak in riddles."

"That's right, Professor. I – _must speak to no one_.", the teacher startled at the familiar phrase. "Let's go."

Luna stroke the Thestral's mane, looking straight into its eyes. It gave a call like the other before, and two more rose from the herd that was out of their sight, gently landing by them and trotting in position to be mounted. In silence, they climbed the Thestrals. Luna flew ahead, leading the other two creatures behind. The cool morning air was exactly the rush Hermione had needed. Knowing that it wouldn't be necessary for her to look down on the dead lands around the castle, she closed her eyes, breathed in deeply. She felt him close – as if she was flying with him. _And Ronald, take care of Hermione._ He had wanted it this way. He had known he wouldn't survive the night and had wanted to make sure she had someone who was there for her.

A heavy thrust. Her eyes jumped open. They had landed, directly on the path that led to the shack, having been built to give the impression the shack was meant as a home to someone. A hole had been bombed into the door-less wall of the house. They dismounted and entered carefully.

There were footprints in the dust all the way up. Sliding tracks from the snake and cloaks. The three of them reached the topmost room. A hole in the door as well, where Peter Pettigrew had tried to escape four years ago. Paper hanging from the walls, torn. Blood. A lot of blood on the floor. None of them dared to enter. Shocked, they just looked at all the blood. _His_ blood. Hermione's stomach crumpled. McGonagall held a hand to her heart, breathing heavily. Nevertheless, Hermione stepped in first.

The bed was still as shattered as she remembered it. She took a deep breath and looked down to the left, where –

"Miss Granger?", McGonagall aspirated from outside the door. "What is it?"

Hermione was frozen. Though differently than the others might have expected her to be. Luna went in, curious, following her bewildered eyes. So did McGonagall, at last. Then Luna started giggling.

"How funny, life is.", she grinned. "Sometimes it's just funny, isn't it?"

"He – ", Hermione aspirated, "He's gone! He – _left!_ "

Where his body was supposed to lie, was only an empty space and a blood-smeared wall behind. Some bloody handprints and other traces on the wooden floor, leading away from the slightly dried red puddles. Letters written with blood on the dusty floor boards, a small object lying below the text. Hermione hesitantly stepped towards it and picked it up. It was a silver locket on a thin silver chain, blood on it as well. She shut her eyes, snorting, and held the locket close to her heart. He had learnt from his enemy. The thought of him actually having been capable of – she couldn't deny she shortly felt some need to vomit. But other than that –

"What is this?", McGonagall wondered, reading the message aloud. "` _Talking heads are speaking in tongues, asking the third to consider the first first-hand_.. _Enjoy the cream; the paradise is yours. Remember the rule..And destroy the paper..´_ huh? What does this last line mean? What kind of signs are these? What does – Miss Granger?"

"That paper too? Kidding, are you?", Hermione chuckled quietly. "Never."

"It is a riddle!", Luna beamed. "Talking Heads – I've heard about a Muggle band with that name. They're quite famous, I think."

"Now don't be ridiculous, Miss Lovegood. Why would – "

"No. She's right.", Hermione considered, wheels of connections clicking in her mind. "`Speaking in Tongues´ was one of their albums. ` _Asking the third to consider the first first-hand_ ´ – he surely means the tracks. What was that?", she closed her eyes, thinking for a few moments. "Oh.", Hermione laughed. "Oh! Goodness sake – you're getting old, Severus. Your puzzles used to be far more challenging. Never mind – I think, we should respect his last will. Let's get out of here.", she smiled. "I'll tell you when we're back outside."

She wiped the blood off the locket, knowing he wouldn't want it to be there. Done, she put it around her neck, stowed it beneath her clothes and went back downstairs, a big ironic smile on her face.

The sun was high enough already to give off some warmth to that morning of May second. In the distance, the ruins of the castle throned on their high rocks. No fire was burning anymore. It would be a long process to rebuild it, but who cared? Many people had died last night. For the one and the other cause. Now in death, they were equals. As equal as the people in the Great Hall, no longer divided in Houses; for the remaining time of the school year; but sitting there as one Hogwarts.

Up high on the half destroyed Astronomy Tower, two young men stood in a soft breeze, their eyes drifting over the ruins and the beautiful landscape beyond, too far away for her to catch, especially considering her current state.

Hermione stepped out of the Shrieking Shack and asked Luna to bring the Thestrals a little further away. Standing in some distance now, they studied the distorted building. Then Hermione raised her wand, pointing up at the middle of the house.

"Miss Granger – will you tell us now what this all is about? What were those runes?"

"No runes, Professor. That was Cyrillic. Russian letters. He's just got a terrible handwriting when he's nervous, you should know that."

"And what did they read?"

"` _I love you_ ´", she believed that was what they meant; he hadn't taught her how to read or write Russian.

"Oh – he – now don't look at me, pulling such a face, Miss Granger! What is this here? What does he mean with all that? Why are you directing your wand at the shack?"

"I'm just following his – _last_ will."

"By doing what?"

"Tracks number three and one on side one. Three, ` _Girlfriend is Better_ ´, one, ` _Burning Down the House_ ´.", Hermione smiled. "Remus is dead. The tunnel has collapsed. The Wolfsbane Potion has been perfected. If there should ever be a Werewolf at Hogwarts, they should be fine as long as there is a great Potions Master around."

"Is it a Horcrux, the locket?", Luna asked.

"He said, he'd retire. Well, I grant him his peace.", Hermione smirked. "And if he really wants a nice blast for his symbolic funeral, he shall have it."

"A Horcrux, Miss Lovegood?"

"You know what a Horcrux is, Professor?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do, Miss Granger. But – "

"Alright. Well, he said he'll be fine. That I needn't worry. That _they_ would always be with him. When he said it, he was pointing on the locket hidden under his clothes. I thought he would refer to the people on the photos inside, rather than the locket itself. Now I know he meant both. He knew it was going to be me who would find it. If Harry and Ron were with me, I wouldn't have said a thing. Ron got to find out that Severus and I – are – _friends_ , you know? But he doesn't need to discover that – "

"You were really dating each other, were you?", McGonagall gasped. "Of all students I ever had, you respected teachers the most! And then it should be _you_ who is dating one of us?"

"That is not a nice word to describe such obviously deep love, Professor.", Luna murmured.

"All the same.", she brandished her off.

"No, it isn't.", Luna defended very convincing, but not enough to not be ignored by McGonagall.

"If I hadn't seen you kissing, I would wait for you to shout `Belated April Fool´. Now tell me, when? Since when have you been together? Was it – "

"Christmas, last school year.", said Hermione, her wand still pointed at the building.

"But that would mean – "

"Oh yes, that would mean a lot.", Hermione grinned. "Though in short, Lily loved James and Severus, Severus loves Lily and me, I love Severus and Ron. Life is beautiful. _Incendio Maxima Horribilis!_ "

"Hermione – ", Ron aspirated with shock, his and Harry's eyes on the gigantic fire column in the distance; three black, skinny, winged, horse-like creatures rose from the place and flew back to the castle grounds.

"Yeah. Hermione.", Harry chuckled. "Seems, she just gave him a bombastic cremation."

"Bombastic – "

A choir singing in his head. One voice above all. _People are to raise their hand in my class.._ words echoing in a big empty cave that was his head among the flames. Umbridge's distorted face. _So yes, your version of the story is what an uninformed person would believe_.. _What I was going to say before you decided to possess enough ignorance again as to be able to interrupt me, is that you were_ obviously _not informed thoroughly_.. _As if you could stop me_.. _You know what they did to your father_.. What had they done to Lucius Malfoy that he had fallen so deep?

 _No, it is a warning that you should finally grow up and think before you act.. And take that way there.. that way there.. everything you have seen and heard.. stays between you and me.. and us alone.._ Hermione's voice drifted in.. _Why don't all of you show some humanity and let our teacher rest? You can see that he obviously hasn't slept a minute over the weekend?.. Ten points off Gryffindor for ignoring my order to dress properly, Miss Granger_.. _Fifty points off the staff for you seem to have forgotten the words I said at New Year's Eve_.. What had she said there? He had never asked..

Three Thestrals landed on the devastated grounds below.

 _There are also some not so bad Slytherins, you know?_.. Yes, he knew now.. _descendants of a very talented family of druids_.. _but unfortunately they died out then_.. _They mixed with the Peverells_.. _the.. Peverells.. the only woman left of those, married the member of another Pure-Blood family.. Then Grindelwald came and killed most of the rest. Only one; again; survived at last. But that one married a Muggle. End_ _of story.._ Was it? He wasn't sure.. Dumbledore had.. _Does it make any difference, being Muggle-born?.. No. It doesn't make any difference_.. the Half-Blood Prince.. druids.. Peverells.. family.. comfort.. warming arms..

Harry tried to shake it off.. fought it again, like a year ago.. ever since.. _intends to flee.. I am not such a coward.. You have been raising him like a pig for slaughter.. pig-headed.. Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?.._ _don't act as if you cared for that mouse – or – or Sirius – or even me.. And take that way there.. It is different if you stand up, shout out your opinion and get crushed, or obey silently, infest the system like a virus and crush_ it _when it is most vulnerable.. Don't worry.. I have a plan.. always.._

The way the memories of all those words flowed into Harry's mind troubled him. He didn't want them to connect like this. But somehow it fitted. It all fitted. And some things fitted in a way he didn't like them to do at all. _We thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?_

Yes, he remembered. And if he was honest, now it actually didn't hurt him anymore to admit she had been right all the time. She had trusted the right man.. ever since then.. _always.._

He didn't bother Ron's look. He didn't care about the expression his best friend had on. It was enough. After all this time, he couldn't anymore. The fire was so hot he wanted to just melt. He didn't want to fight it. Not anymore. There was no need to.. _It's over_.. words that had echoed from the very tower they stood on. _It's over_.

Tears, each the weight of a fully grown Manticore and feeling as poisonous as its venom, fell from Harry's eyes that only saw a pair of dark ones before them, and trickled down his empty face, staring over the foggy lands, glowing silvery golden in the morning sun, but he could vaguely perceive the scenery. Under distant rumbling, the high shack collapsed. Dust smothered the flames, left only a smouldering ruin, in between which he lay, buried. Nature would request his body back one day. But for now, there was this enormous gravestone, a gleaming monument, like a volcano, a symbol of life, and Harry's warm tears were unable to quench the fireworks of emotions that boiled inside him and erupted with a tremendous cry that made his knees give in to the weight.

~~#~~

Protesting with loud screeches, a flock of crows shot up from the trees once again. They wouldn't find peace there. Wise enough lastly, they sailed away, across the even surface of the grand lake and settled down far away from any ruins. Another stand had collapsed and sunken to the burnt ground, to join its kind in a massive oval of destruction.

Farther from the pitch, a number of people with a strong mind that had been forced upon them when they had decided for a specific career in the British Ministry of Magic, walked around with piles of folders floating by, checking, flipping hundreds of pages. Others strolled with them, a sack in each hand, transfiguring corpses into single bones. Those identified, went into the sacks in the right hands, with black strings, the unknown into the left that were laced red. Systematically they walked the grounds – and the ruins of the castle, where they had help from the Hogwarts staff, of which the most had left the Great Hall to expedite the gruesome work that needed to be finished as quick as possible, but thorough.

The scent of Death. It was harsh, yet sweet. Sulphur, sugar, coal, the smell of it all and much more laid in the morning air that became warmer with the fog vanishing and baring the full scale of the catastrophe, while people tried to stuff it into jute sacks with differently coloured strings. Black, brown and purple clothes owned the field between the destroyed castle and Quidditch Pitch, and one by one, the stains became bones that were slipped away from sight. Like a row of cows marching over a meadow, eating up all the flowers, eradicating the remains of life.

Slightly disgusted by the view, a figure above tried to ignore a strangely striking red stain that stood by a tree; oddly enough; stroking a Thestral and clearly looking up, the eyes too small to make out from the distance. But the flyer was sure those eyes followed the broom that rushed on towards the burnt oval of wood, where dirty shoes sat down gently in dirty ground, silent, seemingly unnoticed by another figure that stood in front of one middle ring which hung dangerously askew, high up on its post, the last to still be somewhat in its designated position.

Swaying in the breeze of Death's sickly satisfied breathing, messed ginger curls shimmered in the silvery golden rays of light that fell through the smoke which rose to the few clouds. As if praying in silence, she moved not even slightly when he approached her from behind, slowly, with as much noise as a cat's paws would have made when gliding over even ground. Only nine more feet.

 _Thud._

The dropped broomstick didn't make her startle. She had felt him coming, and he knew she had. Still as slow, he paced on, stopping eventually by her left. That hand of hers was clutching the handle of an old looking, dirty teacup. The other fingers wrapped the rest, smearing their own fingerprints on the outer surface which could hardly be seen.

A long while passed. The Aurors were nearly done scanning the field above when he walked around her, loosened her fingers and dropped the cup in the singed grass, his almost empty eyes on hers, all tears dried, for the time being. As slow as he had walked, he pulled his wand made of holly, stretched his arm up into the air and quietly spoke a number of incantations. Like a veil, like water running over a bowl of glass, the magic formed a cupola around them and their borrowed brooms and the cup on the ground, hiding them from every eye and ear that could disturb.

His nearly blank stare unbroken on her brown eyes and his breath as controlled as bearable, his wand sank towards the cup, which suddenly spread away from them, as a big, cosy white blanket. She didn't deign it a look. All she cared for where those green eyes that looked into hers, giving her far more comfort than what he had transfigured the cup into. With an a little more quiet sound than the broom before, the wand fell by the edge of the blanket and a tender hand brushed down over the visible wounds on her face that hurt her no more. A second hand joined it, supporting its slow, faintly clumsy attempt to lift a dirty and here and there torn t-shirt.

Unable to hold back a smirk, she helped him, charming one on his lips and cheeks as well. Conscious enough, she reversed their roles, with an embarrassed giggle as his shirt got caught. But he readjusted his glasses and let the shirt down too when her hands already dedicated to his belt, which was not easy then, as he tried to somehow open the hooks on her back. Kneeling eventually, he helped her out of her pants after he had gotten rid of his own and he offered her hand a, leading her over to lie down by his right. However, a bit unsatisfied with the accommodation, she reached out, pulled her wand from her pocket, snatched a single culm and turned it into a soft pillow, on which she then rested her head and carelessly dropped her wand beside.

A tender hand, the other this time, as his right was busy carrying his weight by her left, brushed over her bruised, freckled cheeks, soft and gentle, and he bent down at last for a mutual kiss under the warming rays of the sun, far away from those bony claws. And Death turned away, unable to see them under their shield of Life, the breath gone, and remaining, only theirs on their skin.

~~#~~


	57. Chapter 56 - The Youth of Today

– Chapter 56 –

 **The Youth of Today**

All sorts of different junk were bathed in a golden haze. Dust in the air, sparkling like the magic of a million tiny golden fairies flying. The morning light fell through the old glass of the windows. A soft breeze swept in the grass outside, wet with dew, shaking off the glistening drops of water. Moving photos on the walls. Happy faces of times that weren't anymore. They would come again. Not yet, not on that day, but they eventually would. Though some of those faces would never return to the crooked house. Never more. Torn, the laughter only a half. On a small table in a corner, the newspapers from the past days. The rather still portrait of a once grand family looking from one of them under the headline on a front page.

 _CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES_

 _It has been confirmed that the litigation around the former Death Eater,_ Lucius Malfoy _, has ended with a distinctive result. Accusations included no less than fifty-three unsolved cases of Muggle artefact misuse, multiple practice of all Unforgivable Curses as well as various other kinds of Dark Magic in a span of twenty-three years, possession of at least twelve dangerous Dark or cursed objects, contributory fault in the kidnapping and hostage-taking of the renowned Wandmaker_ Garrick Olivander _, the Goblin_ Griphook _– now deceased, Hogwarts students_ Luna Lovegood _, daughter of the editor and publisher Xenophilius Lovegood,_ Dean Thomas _,_ Hermione Granger _,_ Ronald Weasley _and none less than_ Harry Potter _. At the present time, the people listed, strangely seem to be unavailable for any depictions of the crimes committed against them, in spite of no known security measures upon their current residences; neither has any traffic of living beings registered, other than that of unsuccessful reporters, spotting one another._

 _All of the charges against Mr Malfoy however, have been dropped invariably. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt himself has given interview on details of the unanimous decision:_

 _``Mr Malfoy has provided information helpful for tracking down a great number of stray Death Eaters. Some of them have been caught successfully already during the course of the long trial. His regrets lie deep and he offered to assist the Ministry further in restoring peace to our country by finding and suing those accused of crimes very similar to those that had once led to his own incarceration.´´, the Minister states. ``We all are grateful for Mr Malfoy's offer. Meanwhile, he will be left in the hands of his wife and son to recover from the recent events.´´_

 _A full list of the suspects named in the process can be found on page twenty. Any information on their whereabouts shall be delivered to the Ministry at an instant and will be rewarded due to their weight in case of success._

Carelessly thrown next to that, an article in the _Evening Prophet_.

 _LUCIUS MALFOY DEAD_

 _Earlier this evening, tragic news from Malfoy Manor reached our agency: Mr Lucius Malfoy, aged 44, was found dead in his own house by his family. Regardless of the enhanced security measures put up around the Manor by the_ Department of Magical Law Enforcement _due to expecting Death Eaters wishing to retaliate for his assistance to the Ministry(see the_ Daily Prophet _, front page, May 15_ _th_ _), it had not been possible to protect him._

 _Detailed background to the gruesome event has not yet been confirmed by the Ministry. It remains to be seen whether his death was the result of a crime, which would be highly questioning the reliability of the_ Witch Watchers, _or the act of a desperate man who in the end felt incapable to cope with the horrors he had experienced._

The paper of the following day read something not less unpleasant. Shown along, the photo of a strict, utterly self-loving looking blond man with a malevolent expression and smile as dark as the foreboding headline:

 _MINISTRY HEAD MURDERED_

 _Yesterday, the village of Feramore has seen a crime as no other wizard hosting settlement of its size has witnessed since the late seventies. The Head of the_ Department of Magical Law Enforcement _,_ Lysander Yaxley _, well-respected among Ministry employees for years, has fallen victim to a murder of considerable brutality. The sickening cruelty the killer has exercised is indescribable and explicit details cannot be published in any way for the wellbeing of our readers. It must be noted that the described acts were enough to make even resilient people lose their conscience at the mere mention._

 _Therefore, and not only due to the way of murder, it is considered to have been the work of an extremely psychopathic person._

 _Mr Yaxley's body had been found in a chair, another placed opposite to it, leading to the assumption that the killer either interrogated the victim or found it highly pleasing to watch him die. No visible magic was involved in the direct act, from which can be deduced, that personal retribution might be one of the killer's motives. To date, no clue has been found on weapons used or other marks that could lead to any possible suspect, nor has the sort of magic performed to secure the house been identified yet, apart from the logic use of an Anti-Disapparition Jinx to bind Mr Yaxley to the estate. The crime appears to be; barring the infliction of damage to Mr Yaxley's body; the clean work of a professional._

 _After the events at Hogwarts, Mr Yaxley had had to fight with accusations of having played a crucial role in the Second Wizarding War by supporting the Death Eaters willingly as well as having belonged to their inner circle and a hearing had been ordered, which he had not attended. This had resulted in more suspicions, and in due course, the discovery of the crime._

 _Whether this murder is in connection with an alarmingly similar incident reported by the Muggle Police in London, remains unclear at press date._

The very same _Daily_ _Prophet_ dealt with Mr Malfoy as well. It was only a small article, but big enough to have made it onto the front page next to the big headline about the killing of Yaxley and the debates around the future of Hogwarts.

 _SUICIDE CONFIRMED_

 _As reported in yesterday's_ Evening Prophet _,_ Lucius Malfoy _died in his home. In last minute before press date, the Ministry has revealed little information concerning the tragedy and confirmed that he had indeed committed suicide. To spare his wife Narcissa Malfoy and son Draco, the_ Department of Magical Law Enforcement, _under temporary lead of_ Melinda McGallaham, _however refuses to provide details on the circumstances. The high protection around the Manor will remain. His family currently receives psychological care. Lucius Malfoy died aged 44._

There was one more readable paper on the table, carrying another huge headline and long article taking in almost the entire front page, in its centre, a large photo of a black silhouette against red print, with a colourless, pulsating question mark on.

 _`AVENGER´ STRUCK AGAIN_

 _The war had ended by the beginning of the month, but seemingly not for all. Next to the_ British Ministry of Magic _, apparently a lone warrior walks loose, taking the law in their own, brutal hand. Though sharing the Ministry's intention of capturing stray Death Eaters and calling them to account for their crimes, this person's methods are no short of bestial, resulting in the eventual death of their victims. It is now clear that the horrific murders of the former Ministry employees_ Lysander Yaxley _,_ Augustus Rookwood _and_ Walden Macnair, _the Werewolf_ Fenrir Greyback _(we reported) as well as the brothers_ Rabastanand Rodolphus Lestrange _,_ Camilla Bannock _,_ Thorfinn Rowle _,_ Amanda Carrington _,_ Elyssa Singer _,_ Bradley Dormin _, and_ Eric Mulciber _– so far, are marked on one person's tally. The striking resemblance of some of the inflicted injuries imply that the parties in charge are most likely dealing with not only vengeance, but a sort of ritual murder, whereas those injuries that differ, seem also to have reason._

 _None other than; having just begun his carreer as an Auror, as we reported;_ Harry Potter _himself, commented briefly: ``They all pretty much end up the same. It's the differences that bother [Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office] and my colleagues. But I'm not bothered, really. If they'd seen what those monsters; the Death Eaters, I mean; did to their victims, they'd understand that every single of these differing cuts sits just in the place it belongs.´´_

 _By this, Mr Potter is referring to the victims' past. Detailed knowledge of that however remains sealed within the Auror Office's archives. Yet it is easy to put one and one together and understand the murders are designed to not only teach the victims a last lesson but to clearly showcase their former crimes._

 _More deaths are expected, but it is unpredictable how many. Since Bannock, Singer and Dormin were not known by the Ministry to be Death Eaters but found alike all others with the remains of a Dark Mark on their arms, it is now clear that the mass murderer has Death Eater sources and must therefore be a highly angry, though still composed enough defected follower of the `Lord´._

 _What though highly confuses the parties, the murderer has left the sign of once Dark Wizard_ Gellert Grindelwald _on each of their victims' doors, painted with the blood of those; very similar to what the Death Eaters did whenever committing murder, namely the signing of the sky with the Dark Mark. But considering that Grindelwald's intention was to enslave all Muggles and Muggle-Born; which shows high resemblance to the ideology of the later Death Eaters; and all victims of the hunter are proven Pure-Bloods so far, their actual drive is covered in veils of mystery. By the time, Ministry agents in all questioned responsible departments though refer to the killer as `_ The Avenger _´, given by their obvious mean to let justice prevail, whichever that may be._

 _Minister Shacklebolt has given statement to the murders as well: ``I cannot say I am grateful for the_ Avenger _'s work; by no means such acts are vindicated, not even in regard to the victims' past; though I will not deny that it spares the Ministry, and Auror Office in particular, a lot of exhausting work. Nevertheless we will do everything to catch the self-proclaimed hero and confront them, considering milder punishment in return for cooperation.´´_

 _Any serious information on the mass murderer or more Death Eaters are to be brought to the Ministry instantly! Useful information will be highly rewarded!_

 _Further dealing with the topic: an interview with the renowned psychologist Cassandra Stevens on causes of war and motives of revenge, page 5._

Just at a corner, there was a smaller paragraph that dealt with a little lighter matter. It said that Owle Bullock's encyclopaedia had become best-selling and that eighty percent of the royalties were put into a fund he had raised for helping war wounded – for medical care of permanent injuries, acquisition of prostheses or wheelchairs, for personal magical training to match their injuries and allow a fairly normal life or to provide monthly income for completely disabled. As a reason was depicted, that one of his daughters had lost both arms from a blasting curse when running from Snatchers and barely survived the attack.

Looking at the small photo of Lucius Malfoy that had been printed with the news of his death, a young man stood by the table. In his hand, an excerpt from a two days old version of the _Sunday Prophet_. It was a little piece of paper he had cut out. Only a few lines were on it.

 _ **Lucius Abraxas Malfoy**_

 _February 2_ _nd_ _1954 – May 21_ _st_ _1998_

 _The things that drive us may be very complex, but in the end we are only human_

 _We, Narcissa and Draco, are deeply grieved to inform that our dear husband and father has left our world to a brighter place. His mortal remains will be given back to the grounds he called his home, on Tuesday 26_ _th_ _of May at 10am. Whoever wishes to pay him tribute, is welcomed._

Harry dropped the death notice into the Mokeskin Pouch around his neck and buttoned up his purple satin shirt. Gazing into the mystically lit garden, he bound a black tie around his collar. Footsteps on the wooden stairs. Ron, still in his pyjama pants and a worn-out T-shirt, came down, robbing his eyes with a lion-like yawn and tousled his foxy-red hair. As he took the last few stairs he let out a gasp of shock. One of the stairs had creaked. Robbing his eyes once more, he stepped on it a couple of times, marvelled by the horrible noise of the wood under his foot. With a sigh he turned to the figure he had seen in the corner of his tired eye.

"Mooorning!", he yawned again. "What's that? Why're you up already? And why're you – ", he spun so quickly at the sound of more people coming downstairs that he stepped on the creaking stair another time. "Bloody hell!", both Hermione and Ginevra wore black dresses and vests, make-up and had their hair done as well. "You're serious then, you are?", he squeezed himself against the handrail to let the girls pass, whose surprised looks at the mysterious noise from the stair had only lingered for a second.

"So should be you.", his sister huffed, arriving on the kitchen floor. "Is it really asked to much?"

"They didn't turn up for Fred's, did they? Or Remus' and Tonks' – "

"That is something very different.", Hermione aspirated, her beaded bag around her shoulder and a small silver locket resting on her chest, gazing at Harry.

"No, it isn't. And why do _you_ go, Harry? You hate them!", no answer from him, yet quite a piercing stare at her for answering.

"Well, I can understand that unlike him, you don't want to hustle from one funeral to another. Seeing you consider him to be your best friend, you should be proud. And at least this time it's people we know.", Harry continued his glare so unmistakably like his father would have done.

"Mum and Dad know that we're going. We'll stay for the banquet, if there's one – and if they let us. So don't expect us back too early, _brother-sweet_."

"Blimey – "

"Good night, Ronald.", Ginevra grumbled while helping Harry with his suit coat and failing at the attempt to bring his hair in order. "Oh goddamned.", she mumbled. "That's even worse than mine.", she hadn't worked too hard on straightening her hair today, so it was framing her face in rather elegant waves.

"I told you. It's horror to cut systematically.", Hermione sighed, her own bushes sitting on her shoulders.

"Give it a rest.", Harry groaned his first words of the day and slipped two wands in his pocket.

" _Good night?_ ", Ron murmured.

"Yes.", Ginevra pouted and walked out into the garden, holding hands with Harry, and followed by Hermione who gave Ron a slack wave.

The air was slightly warm already, signifying the imminent arrival of June. After shutting the door, Hermione waded through the high grass, happy that her dress only reached her knees. But the high heels she had once sworn to burn, made it rather difficult for her to stand. Nevertheless she reached her friends and took their hands. Being the most awake of them, she thought of the tall iron gates of Malfoy Manor, turned on the spot and pulled them with her.

Seconds later they stood at the dark bars that rose up to the sky. A tall witch and wizard in brown Dragon skin robes were posted at the entrance, stiffening as the three approached them.

"Identification?", the man coughed.

"I think that is hardly necessary.", Hermione said snooty.

"Hermione,", Harry warned.

"You have been at my job interview for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.", the man contorted his mouth, thinking. "That is Harry Potter himself, if you aren't sure where you have seen his face. Your colleague even! And you might also be familiar with Arthur Weasley's daughter Ginny, co-leader of Dumbledore's Army. Enough of the identification?", she sang.

"Alright, alright.", the man grunted. "What is that?", he pointed at the purple pouch.

"That is called a handbag, Marty.", the female guard whispered sideways to him. "Women tend to carry such,", neither of the three could fully hold back a snicker, but he hadn't noticed.

"Anything special in there?", Hermione pulled her wand, a big lace handkerchief and, to Harry's disgust and Ginevra's amusement, a sanity pad and some tampons – yes, she was used to be prepared for odd situations by now. "That's – enough.", murmured the man called Marty. "And you? Any more of that horrible stuff as well?", he brandished at Ginevra's black handbag.

"Does that look like a Dementor would fit in?", she snapped.

"Why don't you just let them through.", the female guard sighed and drew her wand. "We are guarding a funeral, not the Quidditch World Cup. There's not much left of that family that can be killed."

"Thanks!", Harry chuckled high-pitched and even more disgusted than he was of the white things that found their way back into Hermione's wonder-bag.

"Any time, Potter.", the woman waved her wand and a humming sound emerged from the gate before it opened for them.

"Goodness, this society is really going to the dogs.", Hermione hissed when they strolled on. "One day you have to prove that you're _not_ yourself, then that you _are_ yourself – "

"Shut it.", Harry grumbled. "They're Witch Watchers. All they get to see of the world's McGallaham, their home, the place they need to guard and those few yards in between they have to take walking. That Marty's probably not even gotten a glimpse on any newspaper since he graduated. Just so you know, they're not my colleagues. That's two completely different offices in the department. And that's good the way it is. We don't need any nosy kids drilling their dripping snouts into our records."

"Harry!"

"There's no sense in putting lipstick on the big fat pig that's fed with tax revenues for hilariously minor work. You know yourself that each of us three here can do better shields to guard areas. All those Witch Watchers are just there to embellish the unemployment rate. An Auror would have checked even our bumholes for hidden objects – or for something as simple as an Extension Charms to carry around an arsenal of books which could be used to beat the population of an entire country to death. So don't even dare to defend again what you just tricked by snapping at.", he at last managed to shut Hermione's mouth that had widened again and again with every sentence of his, failing to protest.

None of the famous white peacocks strode along the path. The gardens were empty. Hedges like high walls of a prison. A fountain, pouring water for nobody. Tall windows of ancient glass, cold hollow eyes staring down on dead grounds. Big wooden doors, closed. Only a handful of weeks ago two of them had been captured and locked into the cellar – to now walk towards the building for mourning for one of the guilty?

Harry resisted a laugh. There was a sheet of parchment pinned to a bush, an arrow on it, drawn with ink. They followed it through more rows of hedges. A labyrinth with a strictly marked way. Long minutes and more parchments later, a park in the park. An old oak, a single huge grave under it. Many names carved into the black stone and gilded afterwards. On bars over the pit, a noble black coffin. Green branches, wound like serpents, formed some sort of elegant arrangement. No flowers. Long white peacock feathers woven into it. A photo in front.

All three of them were surprised they would bury him as Muggles would do. Facing the coffin, stood a number of simple black chairs. Empty like the Manor. In fact, there were only five people around. Harry knew they were early, but he couldn't deny it hurt him a little. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a man he didn't know, were talking to Narcissa Malfoy, all dressed in fine black robes, she with a flat hat a veil was attached to, which hid most details of her face. A little aside, Draco had a conversation with – Luna?

That was truly a surprise. Her shining white dress and blond mane didn't fit here at all. Like an angel she stood next to the tall, slender young man. Looking at them now, Harry thought that they could have actually been relatives, telling from the colour of their hair, skin and eyes. Around her neck she wore a long silver chain and a white string, each with a stoppered, dangling phial. They contained some silvery, swirling essence which he immediately recognised to be extracted memories. What were they about, he wondered, as he stared at the round, silvery, glittering handbag she carried on her shoulder with a long strap. Luna's father was nowhere to be seen. Both Ginevra and Hermione walked over to them, but Harry's attention was caught by the photograph on the coffin. Hesitantly, he stepped closer.

His heart jumped and hurtled into his stomach, making it crumple under the weight. Muted laughter. Bright smiles of long gone days. The face of a much younger Lucius Malfoy than he had known, laughed back at him. It was a warm laugh, filled with happiness. But it wasn't him, who gave Harry chills. It was the man to his left, an equally cheerful laugh in every line of his silent face that was framed with chin length, bouffant black hair. Harry's jaw slowly dropped. Why? Why, he thought. Why had he never seen that smile, that laugh? Why had he never gotten to see it? Had he lost it over the years? Had the death of his, Harry's, mother really shattered him so much? Or already that of his own? Harry couldn't tell whether the photo had been taken before that Hallowe'en or after, couldn't guess their exact age.

His emotions were back at the Astronomy Tower, only worse. Once more, he tried to lock away the voices. Yelled at them in his mind. Screamed for them to leave him alone. He didn't want to hear them. Not now. Not when he stared at a completely different image of a man than he had thought he had known for years. He felt stupid. Utmost stupid. The voices fell silent the moment he started to whisper at the photo, fighting tears and a monstrous knot in his throat.

"I – I don't know – whether you can hear me – ", he took a short glance around to check whether he was alone and no one could eavesdrop, "But I – you know, I don't care, actually. I don't care whether you can hear me. I just – wanted to say – I – I'm sorry – ", Harry sighed and scratched his suddenly itching neck in thoughts. "Sorry that I've been rude. You – you didn't deserve that. Oh well, you did, somehow. But still, you know? And – and thanks – for – er – thanks for loving my mother. Thanks – for – ", he took a deep breath, "Thanks for saving my life. Thank you – for keeping an eye on me all the time. I know I said that before, but I – I'm not sure if you understood. I meant it. And do it still. Please forgive me. I – don't know – where I'd – "

Harry froze, his widened green eyes rushing from the photo to where his hand instinctively moved, but not dared to touch. He had felt it. Like then. Like years ago, when he had stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. But again, there was no hand on his shoulder. No hand to find its way there. Only tears that stood in his eyes and a soft gust of warm wind against his cheek for a second or two, like the hint of a loving kiss.

"Hey.", Harry's hand dropped hastily, and his head turned to the left.

"Hey."

"Strange, isn't it?", his new company's eyes were sunken in, but he didn't look like he had cried.

"Yeah."

"I mean, you sit together at dinner – and talk – and he smiles at you – and you know that there's something wrong with that smile – but you don't bother, you know?", all Harry could do was to nod limply. "It had been like that for a long time – but you know it's slightly different – still you don't bother – it's – he gets up – says goodnight – walks away – you – you don't think anything – ", Draco swallowed, "Anything could – you say goodnight to your mother as well – and – and – go to your room but – "

Harry knew what would come. And it actually came, more quiet, more hollow. He admired him. He admired his strength so much in that moment that he –

"Then you hear her – calling for him – and you run out – wonder what's wrong with her – you help her searching – and search everywhere – and in the hall – and all you find – ", he swallowed another time, "Is an empty chair under the – the chandelier – and a wand dropped next to it and a – rope – ", his voice became gargling, "Hanging down – and you don't know why – you want to help – but you – _can't_ – you hear her crying – but you just can't – you can't cry – somehow – you can't cry – you – you knew it would be happen – just not that way – you know you would've thrown yourself over a cliff or something like that, but just not – and then you realise that you'll never cry – not for him – y-you can cry for everyone – simply everyone else – you can cry for his best friend – for people you never even knew but – but not for your – your own father – you – just can't – no matter if you try or not, you can't cry – because you knew – ", after a short pause, he added one more breath, "Or so – ", he whispered, then he broke off at last.

Dryness had crawled up Harry's throat. He couldn't look at him. Nor at the photo. All sorts of emotions he had ever had the displeasure to have felt, now poured down on him, so many they suppressed his tears. So heavy that he somehow understood him, understood why Draco couldn't cry.

"I know – ", Draco raised his whispering voice again, only faintly audible. "Sounds like I'm a complete dick – "

"Not at all – ", Harry countered equally low.

"No?"

"No.", luckily Ginevra and Hermione joined them, so neither had to linger in their woe any longer.

"Thanks for coming.", Draco said tired; Harry could only nod again, his watering eyes turned on Hermione who held her hand on her mouth when she spotted the photo.

"Oh my goodness – ", Ginevra aspirated, blinking at the moving photo as well, tears coming which she failed to control. "Hermione – ", her friend only swallowed behind her hand, an awkward smile drifting into her face when Ginevra laid an arm around her.

"It's alright.", she whispered back, lightly shaking her head, dropping her hand. "It – it's alright."

"No."

"I said, it's okay.", Harry took his eyes off them and mindlessly put his hands in his pockets – feeling two objects he had almost forgotten.

"Er – I've got something for you,", he took out one of the wands and held it towards Draco. "Olivander said it changed its allegiance, but I think, now that I have my own back, I might leave it to you again. I think – it might want to return to you. I felt something like that."

"You – ", he gazed at the hawthorn wand and limply took it with his right hand, "You fought Voldemort with that – ", the three startled.

"Er – yeah!", Harry breathed, stunned by the fact that he had said the name. "But it's yours, right? So – naturally – I thought, you should have it – no matter whom it might wish to belong to."

"Alright.", he still looked marvelled and held it up in front of his face.

The other four people watched him as well, as he gave the wand a silent wave and bluish, silvery white light emerged from its tip, streaming into the air and parting from the wand in shape of a crow.

Ginevra tripped. Hermione had collapsed to her knees and pulled her with her. But she didn't cry. The ginger though more than before; still soundless; when she recognised the shape of the Patronus. The crow gently landed on Draco's shoulder. He switched his wand to the left hand, turned towards the girls on the grassy ground and offered Hermione his right.

"I know.", he whispered softly to the dumbfounded young woman and pulled her up, supported by Ginevra.

"You know?", the latter asked, her voice a little shaking.

"Yeah. I can put one and one together, you see? Did you actually think, I didn't recognise the second voice?"

"Second voice?", Hermione gasped and Ginevra blushed barely noticeable under her veil of tears.

"And it's been too obvious. We shared plenty enough time for me to find it confirmed. I just wonder, how you can live with that.", the last sentence was addressed to Hermione again.

"Live with what?", murmured Hermione.

"Skipping so fast."

"Ski- I beg your pardon?", she got louder. "I'm not skipping! Not at al!"

"Sure.", Draco curled his mouth, slightly angry.

"She didn't skip.", Ginevra snarled and the tears stopped flowing almost instantly as if someone had turned off a tap. "He knew and was fine with it. He knew it couldn't be, once Voldemort would figure out a specific thing. So he accepted the other way."

"Is that so?", the Patronus on his shoulder commented his words with a screech.

"Yes!", both girls hissed.

"Okay, okay!", he raised his hands in defence.

"Draco – ", his mother called, her voice crooked.

"Sorry – I – didn't mean to – "

"Forget it.", Hermione sighed.

"No – "

"Forget it, alright?"

"I am surprised to see you here.", Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice made them wince a little and the four spun around almost together. "Harry, Hermione, Ginny,", he nodded briefly at each of them.

"Hi.", Harry chuckled, somewhat exhausted. "Yeah. Same."

"I did not overlook that Lucius Malfoy was a good man, deep in his heart.", his son shuddered and turned his head at another call of his mother.

"I meant us, too, actually.", Harry smirked.

Only then, the four teenagers saw who had taken a seat next to Luna who sat to Narcissa's right, in the front row. He, in a slightly worn-out black robe and cloak and she in a self-sewn, wide, black dress, Mr and Mrs Weasley gave them a hasty wave.

"Tell me, am I the only one here who doesn't know _a thing_?", Harry whispered to Ginevra when the five of them walked over to her parents. "What was that all about?"

"That's none of your business.", Harry frowned at the court answer.

"If it's got to do something with Voldemort, I need to – "

"It's nothing important, really."

"Sounded just _slightly_ different, you know?", he huffed.

"Hello.", Luna's dreamy sing-song voice blighted Harry's attempts of protest.

"Hi.", he sighed.

"Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can – "

"Oh – of course, darling."

She and her husband moved three seats to their right so the friends could sit down. Draco took the chair to his mother's left and she grabbed his hand with a sad smile through her veil. The crow still rested on his left shoulder. But the moment Kingsley wanted to join him on the free left, there was a loud _crack_ , making them all slightly jump and the Patronus vanish.

A small, bony figure shuffled through the grass past the Weasleys, not deigning them a look. He only threw a short glance at the coffin before he stopped in front of Harry and bowed lightly, Regulus' golden locket dangling at the height of his knees as he did.

"Kreacher has been granted by young Master Draco, to do the Master's noble father a last honour when Kreacher is done in the kitchen. Kreacher has finished now and asks if Master Harry agrees with Master Draco's wish."

"Sure, Kreacher.", Harry scratched his neck. "You – can sit down on the chair to his left. Kingsley?", that one nodded.

"Kreacher does not like sitting on chairs, but he will do as Master Harry says.", he bowed again.

"No, Kreacher. Of course you can sit or stand or kneel or even lie wherever you like to.", he considered. "And if you – feel the urge to – to cry or laugh or whatever – you're allowed to."

"Master is too good to Kreacher.", the Elf muttered gargling and made another bow. "Kreacher thanks Master Harry."

"Any time.", Harry chuckled, noticing Hermione's happy half-smile in the left corner of his eye and watched Kreacher shambling over to his other master, where he knelt into the grass in front of him, facing the grave.

With a sigh, Kingsley made himself comfortable on the chair at last and the man Harry didn't know, approached the Malfoys after he had checked a silver pocket watch. He lightly bent down to them. Right when he opened his mouth to say something, a scuffing sound came from the end of the hedges. Covered with a green and black chequered suit, his belly appeared before he did, it and the cloak of a different shade of dark green bumping with every step. Halting shortly to get an impression of the scene, Horace Slughorn walked on towards the funeral party. His crunched, forced smile drifted over the single row of people, greeting them all with nods, his lips soundlessly calling their names. At Harry's even a whimper escaped him, but it was only little and pathetic.

He came to stand in front of the Malfoys, stepping back with shock as he almost kicked Kreacher. Logically displeased, the Elf gave him a murderous look. Blinking down for a moment and muttering something about being sorry, he shook hands with Narcissa and Draco, the gesture slack and despondent. Harry remembered to have seen a photo of the Slug Club on his shelf including a young man with long blond hair. That was the reason why Slughorn had come. He wanted to say a last goodbye to a former beloved student.

Harry didn't hear what he said to them. Hermione distracted him by rummaging in her pouch. Giving a frustrated snort, she picked her wand from the top of it and pointed it inside. Before Slughorn could walk on, she stopped him and held up a thin, rectangular present, wrapped in parchment and decorated with a purple ribbon. When he raised his brow, his eye popped out as usual.

"I – I wanted to give this to you quite a while ago, Sir.", she whispered. "Then – um – you know – things went very fast and we were already on the run. Back at Hogwarts – well – "

"Yes, yes, Miss Granger.", he sighed. "I know very well what happened.", he took the parcel, examined and lightly shook it. "But what _is_ this?"

"Just something I know you would like to have.", Hermione's cheeks flushed. "But please don't open it here."

"If you insist so,", he dropped his shoulders and trotted to the one of the two seats in the row that was still empty next to the Minister.

Narcissa gasped. Her son laid almost flat over her lap, supporting himself on her thighs. Questioning, he looked past Luna at Hermione, bundles of his slightly greasing shoulder-length hair sliding past his ears. Harry frowned as Ginevra did the same over his legs. Hermione opened her mouth, seeking for words to circumscribe it.

"It – it's paper.", she rolled her eyes, curling her lips.

"Paper?", the two asked.

"Um – ", she looked at her wand, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and swung it. "Now combine.", Hermione snorted, watching the shining otter swim through the air, around her and settle down on her shoulder. "Oh don't look at me like that.", she hissed at the Patronus and it vanished.

"Soliloquising already, are you?", Draco smirked.

"Shut up.", Hermione mumbled.

"You mind if I ask – do you have another?", she blinked, her mouth even more gaped than before.

" _Pardon_?", she murmured. "You _have_ one! Let me mine, will you, you selfish Gargoyle!"

"I was just asking!", Draco moaned, raised as well, crossed his arms and stared at the ground, having a hard job to not look at Kreacher who eyeballed him, literally.

"Just – ", Ginevra snickered and raised, "Shut your mouth, you! Honestly!", Hermione cried.

"Yeah. _Honestly_. What's this about?", Harry gnarled enraged.

"I could ask the same!", Narcissa aspirated.

"Nothing.", Draco muttered, angry with himself. "Let's just – forget it and – get him down already."

"Draco!", his mother gasped again.

"It's tr- ow!", his hand rushed in his neck and he turned to see who had attacked him. "Kingsley! What was that for?"

"I have done nothing – ", the Minister was confused.

"Don't – ", Draco's head spun again, "Hermione!"

"What!"

"Was that you?"

"Was I _what_?"

"You're the only one with a wand out! It _was_ you! What was that for?"

"I have no idea what you mean!", she yelped.

"Is that a framed photo, Miss Granger?", Slughorn interrupted absent minded; he had studied the parcel so deeply in thoughts that he seemed not to have noticed anything that was going on.

"Oh please!", Hermione moaned and buried her face in the hands on her lap, rolling in like a hedgehog. "This can't – I'm – ", she brushed back her hair and got up, "I'm out of this."

Draco jumped from his chair as well, storming after her. Thanks to her high heels, he could catch her halfway to the hedge, all other looks puzzled on them. He reached for her wrist, grabbed it and turned her in mid-walk, facing an upset expression.

"What!", she hissed.

"No.", he said calm, but swallowed, thinking. "No."

"`No´ what.", she got to her senses again and penetrated his eyes with hers.

"He – ", Draco took a deep breath, "I don't think he would have wanted that.", Hermione just glared up at him, waiting for more to come. "That we fight on his friend's funeral."

Her head and shoulders sank, all tension gone and she let out a sigh. Draco lowered his head as well, letting go of her arm and gazed over to the coffin.

"Look – I'm – ", he turned back to her, "I'm sorry. I was being childish.", Hermione shook her head.

"No. Me too. I shouldn't have given it to him in front of everyone.", she bit her lower lip.

"What is this that you're playing there?", Harry pleaded, leaning onto his thighs with crossed fingers. "I mean, you lot obviously know things I don't, but I think, I've got the right to know as well, don't you too?", Draco's mouth curled and he sniffed before he fully turned to him.

"He liked you.", he said gently.

"Sorry?", Harry murmured.

"He really did."

"Er – "

"And that's the full truth.", he said sadly upon Harry's bewildered face. "Now let's get this over with."

"Well, I know he must have, in some way. Figured that out by now. Just, what – "

"He was very proud of you.", Draco moaned.

"Well, thanks!", Harry sang, made a languid gesture and leaned back again, crossing his whole arms and legs now. "But that still doesn't explain the quarrelling you're having here."

"There are things you'll never understand."

"Then make me – "

"Jeremy – ", he ignored him, "Do what you're here for.", the man was as stunned as Harry, his stare following Draco and Hermione who went to take in their seats again.

"I – "

"Just do it."

"Should we not wait some more minutes? In case someone else is coming?"

"No.", Draco's tone was definite. "No one else will be – ", but he was wrong.

A girl between the hedges cleared her throat. Or so everyone thought. Within seconds, she coughed heavily and reached into her bag, taking out a metal box with cough drops. While Hermione was already watching her from her chair, Draco was still on his feet, halfway to his. Once the drop was in the blond girl's mouth, her coughing was gone and so was the box, back into her handbag. Everyone who had been at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, knew the dress she wore under the black cardigan, but none of them could miss that it wasn't nearly sitting as tight as then. Apart from that, she looked rather haggard as well. Draco turned and went to greet her, much to Harry's surprise, with a mutual long embrace and short, tender kiss afterwards.

"Sorry I'm late. I've been held up.", she whispered.

"It's okay. You're here now."

"Am I really the last?", Hannah peeked past him, giving the one and other nod and faint smile.

"The best always comes last.", that made her huff.

"I didn't come to listen to such."

"Sorry.", Draco smirked, fondling her cheek. "Come over. We'll talk later."

"Sure."

~~#~~


	58. Chapter 57 - Where We Belong

– Chapter 57 –

 **Where We Belong**

Cramming stomachs with food was no effective method for filling holes that had been bombed into hearts and souls. So naturally, seventy percent of the prepared meal went into the waste, although everyone had done their best to eat as much of the extremely delicious small turkey they had had and Mrs Weasley offered to take one home for the next day. Still wondering why someone would have turkey for a funeral, but actually not complaining because it had tasted better than any of those he had ever had at Hogwarts, Harry gazed around.

They had now packed into groups in the grand hall. The smell of incense was still in the air, making him alarmingly dizzy – or perhaps it was also due to the massive amount of turkey and vegetables he had eaten. Even though the midday sun was shining through the front of windows, the hall was so big and dusty that the sunlight got lost. Therefore the three chandeliers were lit and the fire burnt in the chimney. Around it, in black leather armchairs, sat Mr and Mrs Weasley, having a sad conversation about loss with Mrs Malfoy. Hermione and Ginevra filled a windowsill. After a while, Harry had given up on trying to understand _anything_ they were talking about. It was all just coded words and phrases and the fact that Slughorn yakked on him and Luna while he attempted to grasp a single meaning, was no help either.

Every now and then Harry's look would drift from the corner they sat in to the long table at which they had eaten. The arrangement of branches was still placed at its door-side end, building a half circle around the photograph. Though the peacock feathers were missing. Each of them had thrown three feathers along with a shovelful of earth into the grave before Jeremy had closed it magically. The priest now sat with Draco, Hannah and Kingsley at the table, working over piles of folders and plans of the Manor.

Due to Slughorn's exaggerated talking, Harry couldn't really hear what they were discussing either. But the word `children´ fell quite a number of times. Harry's stomach wrenched at the topic he was confronted with once again.

"Ya know,", sang Slughorn hollow and teary, "He dinn' want me ter drink. But how? _How?_ How could I posssibly not? An' how could he stop me anyway? He's gone, isn' he?"

"Yeah.", Harry said absent. "With a nice blast."

"Wha's 'at, m'boy?", he gave him his famous, crunched face with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing, Sir."

"However. Ya know, I admired 'em, 'im an' Lily.", Harry winced. "They were so talented in everythin' 'ey did. An' highly talented in brewin' potions, of course. Mathemmmatical brains. Such a shame. So much talent – an' it dinn' help 'em. They're gone."

"It helped them a lot.", grumbled Harry. "I won't say I knew them, but Severus Snape knew how to use his talents. And so, I suppose, had my Mum. It was only Voldemort.", it was Slughorn who twitched now. "Once he wanted someone dead, they were dead already at the consideration."

"True, true, m'boy. Tom Riddle was a very disturbed child."

"No. He only happened to never have been loved. That was his biggest flaw. And that's just sad, to be honest."

"Oh yes. He had a sad, sad life, dear Tom. So much talent – all in vain – all gone – wasted – oh I wish I understood 'im – _them_ – they both were very special, very talented."

"Yes, they were. But it's mainly been what they chose to do in the end, wasn't it?", Luna pointed out.

"Where's Neville, by the way?", Harry needed a change in topic and was glad the thought of his friend who had chosen to take his formerly pitiful life in his own hands, had popped into his mind.

"He's with his parents, I suppose. He's there a lot, lately. They're getting better, you see? Not much; they still don't seem to recognise him; but it looks like they know that Voldemort's dead.", Slughorn slightly jerked again at the name.

"Yeah. S'ppose so. Er – you excuse me,", he attempted to raise.

"Of course, Harry.", Luna smiled gently, Slughorn hadn't even noticed as he was back in his own world of thoughts, with tears Harry didn't want to see.

Harry stretched a little when he stood up, feeling the need for a relief of his body after having sat for what must have been two hours. So he shuffled over to the lonesome photograph. But the thick knot growing in his throat when he arrived at it, made him regret it eventually. That happy laugh. Harry's inwards crumpled. He wanted to take the bush and throw it through the room – or kick something – set the table on fire – anything. He could already feel his wand react in his pocket, even though he didn't touch it, and expected red sparks emitting from it any second, burning his clothes. Muffled by the huge carpet the table stood on, he didn't hear any sound from her bare feet as she had taken off her high heels when she had decided to walk over. Therefore he startled when Hermione suddenly stood to his right.

"Are you alright?", she said concerned, but Harry just gave her a casual nod. "You're such an awful liar."

"I know.", huffed Harry. "What was he like to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I know you spent some private time with him, not only back then in the Hospital Wing, but also – last year. You know which. I'm not stupid, Hermione. So? What was he like to you? Away from public?", she remained indifferent. "Goddamned – I know he didn't want anyone to know his intentions, but I don't think he'll bother now! He's dead!", Harry hissed, but felt horrible the moment he saw her wince at the line and her face turn to an image of misery, reflecting nothing but – his own emotions. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. After all, one would think I should have gotten used to the fact that you tend to speak your mind right away."

"Yeah. You should. So?"

"He – oh my god – where to start – ", Hermione brushed a hand through her brown mane. "He was – special – I – I don't know – ", she blushed and looked away.

"You mean, with _all the talents_ and such?", his eyes shortly flicked at Slughorn, who failed to stop salty waterfalls from flowing into his quivering walrus moustache.

"That too – oh Harry, please don't make me – I – I swore not to tell you anything – "

"May I repeat,"

"No.", she shook her head. "He kept secrets about your mother after her death as well."

"Wait – and you think you can just keep secrets too?", Harry murmured, trying to talk his way around. "Hermione! I want to know more about that man! He saved my life all the ti- oh come on. Don't give me that `I-told-you´-look.", Hermione's eyes popped out on the description. "Okay, I admit, you got it right. And well, I still want to know why he really stole the Monday post and pretended to be the real postman for years just to see how I'm doing or how anyone could have possibly tolerated that he sang me into sleep once they had known he carried the Dark Mark – "

"What?", she gasped, swallowing down her point of view.

"Don't tell me – ", he chuckled, "You didn't know? Well, he spied on me, disguised as postman. I thought _you_ 'd figured out by now who `Blackbeard´ was; and Luna was wrong. _I_ was wrong. Remember, when we caught her singing on the Astronomy Tower?", Hermione nodded. "Well, it wasn't _Dad_ who sang that song."

"Um – what makes you think?"

"You know, when I retrieved the memory from Slughorn, Felix Felicis made me take a detour to the common room. A rather long one actually."

The more Harry told her about that evening, the wetter her eyes became and when he was trying to explain everything he felt in those moments as well as in that class Severus had saved Remus, her cheeks were as washed with tears as Slughorn's. Yet he was careful not to mention a thing about a certain number of conversations they had shared. Harry's last sentence however drained her breath instantly.

"So, what's in that locket?", he nodded to the silver piece of jewellery on her chest.

"Sorry?", she sniffed.

"Probably you _can_ recall that I caught him almost naked. I've seen that thing close and long enough, Hermione. I don't want to know when or why he gave it to you – or if you took it from him before you set the shack on fire, I only want to know what's in it."

"It's just a locket, Harry."

"You _are_ a good liar, Hermione, but I don't believe you now.", he said grim.

"Think.", she countered equally dark, turned on her heels and marched back to Ginevra.

He just watched her sitting back down and Ginevra asking, receiving some answer with a shaking head. Harry took a deep breath and continued studying the photo on the table. Though this time, due to the angle, he did see that again someone wished to join him. He raised his head from the photo and looked at the ghostly figure.

"What did she want?", Draco staggered along the table, holding on to it.

"What's that your business?"

"It's my house.", Harry gave a snort.

"It's been me who wanted something."

"And what?"

"Damn, you can ask. Well, answers, actually. So? What's that you're doing there with Kingsley? Planning to renew the house on Ministry costs?", Harry chuckled.

"Oh no, not at all. It's all gonna be my Dad's money, or at least, most of it. He had plenty, you see? But yeah, we're renewing it. Been planning that for quite a while. My parents didn't know. But he was in the plan.", Draco nodded to the photo and Harry understood. "Said, it's the best idea I could have ever come up with. You know, when it's finished, it's gonna be much brighter here. Not too bright though. Don't want it to look like a hospital. But cosy. Very cosy. We got enough rooms for beds; the garden will get a complete work-over. I want every track of that scum out that's been wandering this house for a year. And there'll be a pond. Just deep enough for swimming, so the kids won't drown too easily. And pebbles and plants around it."

"Kids? You're planning on children already?"

"Oh no – sorry you got that wrong. Hannah and I aren't that daft. You know, it's been war and – many families died – and there's a whole lot of little witches and wizards out there who need a home."

"Second – you're making it an orphanage?"

"Exactly.", beamed Draco, placing his hands on his hips, which made him sway for a second and his smirk instantly was back to miserable. "It'll be wonderful. I mean, there's like – two wizarding orphanages in the entire world? Really? They can't just all grow up among Muggles and be called freaks all their childhood long,", he laughed, but Harry's look trailed wearily on the photo, remembering how his mother had been treated by her sister.

"But there's been – so much death – in this house – ", he smelled the incense again.

"Well, Hogwarts doesn't close either, does it? Sure, it has seen too much death. But that's exactly the point, isn't it? It needs more _life_."

"And you? Where will you live?", curious, he directed his look back on Draco.

"He arranged us a nice little house in the north. Not too far away from Hogwarts, actually. By a lake. We've been using it as a safe house over the time Voldemort's abused the manor as his headquarters."

"Voldemort let you – stay away?", Harry frowned. "I thought, he locked you in – "

"Oh no, no. If there was an influence, it was big. He put a lot of value in his ` _most loyal servant's_ ´ wishes, when he wanted. And to our luck, in this case, he accepted it. There were stunningly awkward arguments, you see? Didn't get all of them, but they usually did the trick."

"S'ppose so. Hannah will be with you?"

"Yeah. I mean, she can't stay in the Leaky Cauldron forever, can she?"

"Hang on, what?", Harry murmured.

"Don't you know? Her Dad threw her out."

"What? Why?"

"Well, because of me.", sighed Draco. "He never really liked the lot of us. Nor did I, but how to tell him, you see? He's thrown her out two weeks ago. She didn't want to tell me. Didn't want to worry me. But at least she wasn't alone."

"Yeah. Neville's there too. Unbelievable that he moved out from his Gran's."

"Hannah said that he got tired of her and he wanted his own life now – and luckily she supports him. I mean, that old hag's fought some great duels at Hogwarts, but honestly? She's a little – ", he gave a whistle and a brief demonstration that made Harry laugh, mostly due to the fact that it was _him_ to do it and with a kind of grin he hadn't seen on him before either.

"It's really strange, you know?", Harry continued after an awkward pause.

"Whataya mean?"

"You're actually a nice bloke, to be honest."

"Nah.", Draco waved him off. "Not really. I can be a great arsehole. You know, with my family background and all. Though maybe – maybe I changed a little. But only since he hit me with a bird, I think."

"Er – second – Severus?", Draco gave a quick confirming nod. "And he hit you? With _what_?"

"Yeah. Threw a dead bird at me. Guess, he got the right spot then.", he shrugged.

"Great. Another thing I failed to ask.", Harry grunted. "If I'd known that I'd only needed to throw a dead bird at you, we might've even become friends."

"S'ppose. Just think about it – all the great humour down in our common room you missed.", he winked.

"Especially Crabbe and Goyle.", Harry chuckled.

"Oh those, especially.", Draco laughed as well. "Great fun, the two. Yeah. A great – pain in the arse.", his grin faded and he gazed at the windows. "I reported Goyle to the Ministry."

"Er – "

"Killed a visibly wandless Ravenclaw boy in the battle. I didn't even know he could do the Killing Curse. Seems, Amycus's given the two some – extra – lessons – ", Draco wiped his right hand over his mouth, not willing to look at Harry as if he feared, he might have become a better Legilimens than Severus.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah – it's – ", lowering his head and arms, blinking in thoughts, he took a deep, stagnating breath and curled his lips.

"Draco?", Hannah had come to him, making him startle.

"Yes?", he aspirated, gazing at her while she fondled his right cheek from slightly behind, the other hand on his back.

Standing on the opposite side of the table, Harry felt powerless. Like the visitor of a zoo, being on the secure side of the fence while a deadly wounded animal died a most painful death on the other. Hannah had moved her arm around Draco's neck and pulled him to her. He quietly sobbed into her shoulder, hiding his face. Just slow and flaccid his hands wandered up her back and dug into her long blond hair.

"Hey Harry,", that one jumped at the airy addressing.

"Huh?", he spun around, finding a warm smile topping a white wavy, snowy slope, framed by a light, fair waterfall.

"You'd like to go for a walk?"

"Um – ", Harry scratched his tickling neck, turning his head back to the couple and then to Luna. "Please, yes."

The angelic girl's smile widened slightly and they left the hall side by side. He hadn't paid attention to the massive staircase or the noble lobby or the delicately decorated doors yet, but he could understand that Draco wanted to give it all a completely new look. In such big gloomy rooms one couldn't become anything but depressed. Even the Dungeon office had looked more comfortable, if he thought about it. With the bluish shine coming through the underwater window and the fire in the chimney or the candles in the old chandelier above, mirroring in all the glasses in shelves around the walls, glistening like fairies, if it hadn't been for their content. Or the books in the other shelves – he had never dared to check the labels – or those of the jars –

Never had he asked what they were used for. And when he had taken a walk in the destroyed castle before they had headed for The Burrow; all those memories from the past years surfacing, at every corner, every crack that still had existed; he had found the office completely empty. Even the piano hadn't been there anymore. And upon searching the Headmaster office and private chambers with permission, he had realised that Severus Snape's possessions simply had gone. It had been as though the man had never lived in the castle. Not a single hair left. The only real proof he had existed at all, were the extracted memories he, Harry, had re-bottled in the phial that now rested in his Mokeskin Pouch, the photograph up in the hall and the locket around Hermione's neck, probably. He just realised that two rather strange people, carrying peculiar memories with them, took a walk the very moment.

"One's how my mother died.", Luna said dreamily when they walked past the drawn arrow on the parchment, as if she had read his mind.

Harry couldn't find any word to add however. So he just strolled by her right, gazing up into the clear blue sky every few seconds. That made his walking rather clumsy and he turned way too late, almost running into the hedges every time they changed direction. After an endless walk, they reached the oak behind the manor again, the family grave now sealed and looking like nothing had ever happened. It solely showed one name more, the light falling through the leaves of the ancient tree, directly onto the golden letters. But Luna led him past, closer to the oddly manicured, plain meadow that ended at the high boundary wall. They however only walked about fifteen feet, then, surprising him much, Luna simply sat down on the green grass in the shadow of the tree.

"Er – "

"We cannot go further.", she smiled softly; Harry let his look travel over the wide, empty area, confused. "It would be like crossing the shield they had conjured around Hogwarts. We'd die, Harry."

"Oh – okay?", he sat down as well, still staring into distance.

"I don't know what they are hiding there. Maybe you should ask Draco's mother, if you really want to find out. But she hasn't told Draco either. A rather tense situation, don't you think?"

"You mean, she doesn't want him to know? Let alone, see it?"

"That as well. Though I meant that it's going to be complicated to create a pond here if there is something hidden he isn't supposed to unveil."

"Seems logical. Er – ", he decided it would be more polite if he looked at her, "Got any idea where the peacocks went? All the world was just speaking about the white peacocks Lucius Malfoy bred, but other than the feathers, there hasn't been any of those around since we arrived."

"Oh there is one.", Luna giggled and pointed on the silver hair-slide she wore above her right ear that had the shape of a peacock.

"Funny.", Harry snorted.

"Oh, I think, it is, yes. I also expected some. But it seems, they're hiding and just not attracted by it."

"Is that also why you wear a white dress? To decoy the peacocks?", by the moment he had said it, he realised that it had been nothing but rude, though she seemed not to bother, or even have noticed.

"Oh no. That's meant symbolic."

"And what does it mean?"

"You know,", now she dreamily gazed into the field, "They might just have left the property with their master. Yes, I think they accompanied him to Heaven to ask for mercy."

Probably he had seen too much in his short live, but he didn't feel the need to question her words. It sounded replicable, somehow. Though if not that, he thought, it was at least a wonderful idea. That made him remember the black dog. The Grim. The omen of death. A guard that helped one to greet death, rather. Yes, his dog had been Sirius, but also that made sense, even more, reconsidered now that he had been ready to face it. And thinking about it, sitting under that tree, alive, Sirius death made sense. Sirius had died so he could tell him through the Resurrection Stone that dying was indeed nothing to be afraid of. To an even greater degree, he had been there through the beginning of the end. At the start of his most difficult path, Sirius had been the one kind of person he had needed: a parent.

Luna reached into her small bag and took out an exceptionally big box for the size. Was that the new fashion among girls? He swallowed down a chuckle; not for avoiding to look as though he was meaning to make fun of her, but because of what she took from the metal box: a flat, round, snow-white biscuit with chocolate chips, red jam in the middle and an almond on top.

"You'd like one?", she asked.

"N-no thanks – ", Harry gargled but she held it towards him so demanding that he saw no chance to talk himself out of it. "Okay. Thank you."

"Any time."

The girl smiled and took one for herself, watching him study the biscuit and he wondered whether she was waiting for him to burst into a flood tears. By now he understood that Luna was that kind of person one wouldn't want to mess with at any matter and if it was trying to hide some truth. She always knew. Somehow she always knew. That was scary, but on the other hand soothing as she handled everything absolutely discreet, if in her very own, special way though, Harry considered.

"I've got something for you."

He startled up, the biscuit still in hand, and frowned at her when she rummaged for another thing in her glitter-bag. It took her longer than she herself must have expected. Without noticing it, he ate the biscuit in whole, the absolutely delicious taste filling the entire cavern as he chewed, and that above with memories he tried hard to push back into their corner. Finally she held the big paper in hand. When he turned it over, not only the taste owned his mouth. Choking heavily, he tried to breathe. Luna was so quick he just realised after he drank the rescuing gulp, that she had drawn her wand from the bag, summoned a single oak leaf, transfigured it into a crystal glass and filled it with clear water, all with one fluent wave.

Able to think again, he began to examine the details of the old moving photograph that showed the school choir of Hogwarts, undoubtedly recognisable by Professor Flitwick standing in the first row of a group, neck and neck with the smallest students in terms of size. But as though he had known where to look at, he had choked because of the two people; from the photographer's view left to Flitwick; his eyes had actually first fallen onto. The girl had long, wavy, dark ginger hair and the boy at her left, his hands on the shoulders of a much younger Hufflepuff girl with blond, curly pigtails, wore his own – unusually tousled and bushy black hair falling a little past his shoulders. Not enough, apart from the clearly hooked nose, he already resembled much the man who was laughing from the photo in the hall up in the manor. He was even smiling there, as bright as Lily and the small girl in front of him did.

"I nicked it from Professor Flitwick."

"You – _what?_ ", Harry gasped.

"You know, I don't think he has the right to have it. He was always a little too obsessed with the choir. I like him, but I can gladly say, it serves him well to live on without the photograph. You can make more use of it anyway. He would just be showing off with it, but to you, it has a real meaning.", Harry somehow hated how she said almost everything with a smile, but another part of him couldn't complain that much.

"Er – thanks – yeah – erm – where have you got those biscuits from?"

"You like them?"

"I – "

"Here.", she gave him the entire box.

"Luna – I – no – "

"Sure. I don't think, he really meant _me_ to have them."

"He?"

"He gave them to me for Easter, thanking me for – ", finding her break off with the loss of her smile, was actually unusual for him to see, and if he was more honest, painful. "That is for you as well.", she continued and took off the phial that hung on the white string. "He asked me not to give it to you before the end of the war, and only if he was gone by that moment. He said, I should wait until you are ready to understand. I think, you are now."

Harry's throat knotted itself when he received the flask with his empty hand and he felt his eyes become teary. She said he was ready, but that was the last he believed to be. How could she expect him to be ready when he knew it might take him years to be able to look at those memories she had just given him? How could he look at them, with all the emotions swamping him since he had seen him die? He had had no clue what it had been that he had felt at that moment, not even after finding out the believed final truth, but in the weeks after, some more truth had tried to infest his brain, a truth he fought desperately ever since he had seen him crash into the choir practice, or when he had come to acknowledge that he had taken watch on him far beyond Dumbledore's requests – how did Luna expect him to be –

"Easter?", Harry startled up from his thoughts, something having rang an alarm bell. "But you didn't return until – when the heck did he give them to you?", Luna looked embarrassed and there was indeed a faint hint of pink on her pale cheeks when she gazed at the oak's huge trunk.

"He came to Shell Cottage.", she whispered.

"What?", Harry straightened.

"Disguised, of course. As Scrimgeour's cousin."

"Er – cousin?"

"Yes. He's in the order too, so no one suspected a thing. But he wore his locket openly, knowing I was the only one present to ever have seen it, and he gave me the box before he left."

It downright stunned him, what kind of nerve that man had had, walking straight into a safe house under Polyjuice Potion, for; assumingly; solely delivering a box with biscuits. But after all, he, Ron and Hermione had entered the Ministry of Magic even, and might have left it unrecognised if they had caught Umbridge differently. Though something Ginevra had told him little than a week ago popped into his mind. Cresswell had offered his hair voluntarily. Maybe Scrimgeour's cousin had done so as well. The moment he meant to ask Luna more about this man however, the voice of an elderly woman prevented his purpose and his eyes left Luna's face for searching for the speaker. She had obviously muttered to herself, in a language that sounded insanely familiar to Harry, yet he had never heard her making use of it.

"Professor McGonagall!", Luna waved to her, making her jump a little.

"Ah Miss Lovegood! Now what are you doing here? And where are the – Potter? Is that you?", she approached them, supporting herself on a walking stick. "Goodness, I might never get used to this new length of your hair."

"Seems so,", Harry smirked, having wiped his still teary eyes dry in last second with the back of his right hand. "Er – what happened to your leg, Ma'am?"

"That is nothing, Potter.", she assuaged him with a smile. "I was only idiotic enough to try repairing a bewitched cupboard and my spell rebounded a little. In addition, that made me stumble over a number of mice that fled from it. Nothing too serious. Poppy said, I can walk completely normally in a few days."

"So you're rebuilding?"

"Yes, we are."

"How does it go?"

"Quite fine, to be honest. But we would be a lot faster if we had an additional hand. Unfortunately Horace escaped us for the funeral. Why ever he did that, I wonder. Have you seen him?"

"Everyone's upstairs.", said Harry and stood up, and Luna with him. "Believe me, Professor, he's too drunk to cast a spell that wouldn't kill him or everyone else."

"That is definitely not the news I was hoping to hear.", McGonagall snorted, giving him a concerned frown when he tried to somehow hold the big, unfolded photograph, the open box and its lid, as well as the phial and the empty crystal glass, but behaved stupidly on the attempt.

"Let me help you.", Luna giggled and took the phial which she hung around his neck, closed the box and pushed it firmly back into his hands, before she re-folded the photograph, which she laid on top – the glass became a leaf again and flew up into the branches where it attached itself to where it had come from as though it had never left.

"Er – thanks!", Harry chuckled.

"Any time.", smiled the girl, with a faint wink.

"Could you two please lead me to the others?", asked McGonagall. "I would like to ask them some questions."

"Of course, Professor."

When they arrived in the hall, Draco and Hannah had taken a seat where Luna and Harry had left them. The other groups had remained the same, in the same places. For decency's sake, McGonagall first went to Draco's mother to express her condolences, then said the words to Draco, looking a little more worried when she found him nodding them off.

"It's alright."

"No, it is not all right, Mr Malfoy. If you should need anything – "

"I'm fine."

"Mr Malfoy,"

"I still have my mother, I have friends – and a wonderful girlfriend,", he added with a scarce smile at Hannah, "I'm fine, Ma'am. Really."

"Very well, Mr Malfoy.", she shortly laid her free left hand on his shoulder. "But if you need something, you can always come to me. The chance that I am not too drunk for listening is a little higher than with our walrus over there."

"I know.", Draco chuckled limply; Slughorn hadn't even heard that, though she had spoken loud enough for Ginevra and Hermione to grasp it, which they confirmed with a fit of giggles.

"Now, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, would you mind joining us here?", she waved them to her and they slid off their windowsill at last. "Good.", McGonagall said and leant against the table when all of them had built a circle, Hannah and Draco still sitting. "What I am here for, is the question of your further education at Hogwarts. We are on the best ways to have the castle rebuilt completely by the end of August and wish to continue as good as possible. Of course I don't expect students swarming the Great Hall in the evening of the first of September, but at least it would be wonderful to have a slow start, rather than none. I didn't consider I would see so many of you here, but that makes matters a lot easier. Various people from my staff will try to reach those who fought in the battle before the beginning of term, but I can see us having to send tons of letters and merely hope for students' return."

"Hello, Minerva. Back at business?", Kingsley had risen and placed himself between Harry and Hermione.

"I daresay, I never refrained from it ever since Severus made me Headmistress.", McGonagall sighed, not noticing that several of the teenagers were a bit uncomfortable by the mention. "So? Who of you wants to continue their education? Or do you ask for some weeks to consider proper–"

"I'd love to continue!", Hermione gasped eagerly, making them all laugh – and herself blush with a snort.

"Of course, Miss Granger.", McGonagall smirked. "None of us doubted that. What about you, Potter?"

"Er – actually – ", he cut Kingsley off, who had attempted to have his word on the case, "Kingsley has offered all of us a post in the Auror office without the need of NEWTs. Ron, Neville and I said yes."

"Is that so? And I believed that to have been a newspaper hoax. Well, thinking about it, naturally you did that.", none but him noticed the slight disappointment in her voice. "Miss Weasley?"

"But – "

"I'm not sure yet, but why not? I mean, right – I could go on until I have something in mind. Maybe I'll even do NEWTs.", Ginevra shrugged. "Neville said he's definitely finishing Herbology and Defence along the job."

"Fine. Miss – "

"I will continue as well.", smiled Luna. "Better Hogwarts than Dad.", she added subdued; Harry, Ginevra and Hermione exchanged knowing looks.

"And you, Mr Malfoy?"

"We'll both go back.", he answered, arm in arm with Hannah. "But only if Mum doesn't stay alone. I don't think, she'll stand that."

"If it is your wish to continue,", Narcissa made them all startle, since nobody had noticed that she had stood up and joined the group, "I will not say no, Draco."

"Your mother can stay with us.", said Arthur Weasley, he and his wife having followed her. "We have discussed that already."

"Okay.", Draco nodded. "I'm definitely in."

"Perfect.", McGonagall gave them a smile, which steadily faded. "Then I think, I should be going back. If any of you happens to know worthy persons for the posts of Defence Against the – Dark – Arts – and – and Muggle – Studies – oh and – Ancient – Runes – ", she needed a pause for swallowing, "You – you know where to find me.", having added that very fast, she turned to flee, rather than go.

"Ma'am?", both Harry and Draco stopped her, but she must have only heard the latter.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?", she said hasty and thin lipped.

"There are – several people I could think of. I mean, some of the Order."

"I'm afraid, there is hardly anyone left from the Order of the Phoenix, Mr Malfoy. And those who are, have other important business to do, as far as I am concerned.", McGonagall moaned. "I don't think it will be easy finding someone who wants to teach how Muggles might be compared to us, while everybody is trying to rebuild their lives; same can be said for the other subject. And decrypting texts from the past is barely interesting, I think, when the present needs to be restored. If you expect some Auror to do the – the other job, you should ask Kingsley. He will be telling you only that all of them are busy finding stray Death Eaters before that psychopath does. So, who do you think – "

"Me?"

"Should be doing it? Nearly every student who fought in the battle is not even of age yet; the ones who are, I believe, have no interest in teaching something they had done in the darkest hours of their lives. I would not dare to ask them in my weirdest dreams. Give me a single person who could and I swear, I will do everything you ever request of me and if you tell me to jump off a cliff or – "

"Then jump off a cliff, Ma'am. I said, me.", he threw in coldly again.

"I beg your pardon?", McGonagall frowned, not being the only one to eyeball him.

"I'll do it. I mean, if it's required to have a NEWT, I'll do my exam as a sideline. Shouldn't be too difficult, should it?"

"I don't think, that's a good – ", Hannah whispered to him, McGonagall drowned her words.

"Are you serious, Mr Malfoy? Didn't you hear what I said? I wouldn't ask – "

"Well, you didn't exactly ask me, did you?", Draco noticed. "I _suggested_ myself."

"Are you sure, you can handle that?"

"I've handled my drunken Dad, survived Occlumency lessons with my aunt, survived the war, I know what it's like to actually be _there_. I've been sitting at a table with him. I've been torturing people on his command because he would've killed me otherwise. I've been wandering under his – _nosy nose_ – for months, working against him. There's only one who survived that – even – longer – but – but unfortunately it's – been _too_ long – er – what I mean – is – if – if anyone could – if anyone else could be better for the job than me,"

"Mr Malfoy – "

"Okay – probably Harry.", he flaccidly pointed at him. "But he's an Auror now, isn't he?"

"Technically,", Harry noted, "Not fully yet, but so to say, yes. And I definitely don't want to teach anymore. At least not at the moment. Yet I'd like – "

"See? And Ron's absolutely not in for teaching either."

"Absolutely not.", Harry confirmed. "But – "

"And Hermione here won't do it as long as she hasn't got more Outstanding NEWTs than – "

"That'd be true.", Hermione laughed. "I have no intention of teaching at all, to be honest. That one day had been enough for me. Never again, I swear."

"Well, it's settled then. I'll be doing the job.", Draco said definite and crossed his arms, but it was obvious he just did it to prevent his body from starting to tremble – he visibly pressed his teeth together behind his closed lips with a lot of force.

"If you really insist,", McGonagall sighed.

"I do, Ma'am."

"It would be `Minerva´ now.", she limped back over and offered him her hand.

"Alright. Draco.", he threw a chuckle and shortly raised for accepting it before he sank back down onto his chair and Hannah stroked his back with worry.

"Very well, hundreds of letters less and only – two more teachers to look for."

"What about Hestia Jones?", Harry considered. "She's got nothing to do since she brought back my uncle and aunt and cousin, does she? She's spent enough time with – oh. Probably she's not the best for Muggle Studies. The Dursleys are sort of the worst among Muggles who never killed anyone. Well, Dudley actually got better, but he's still not a saint,"

"Hmm. I didn't think about her, but I will take her into account nevertheless, thank you, Potter. Perhaps she accepts.", McGonagall muttered and turned to leave another time.

"Professor,", Harry grunted.

"Yes, Potter?"

"What I was meaning to tell you, Kingsley might be fine with it, but I would indeed like to take the NEWT exams."

"I beg your pardon?", she was not the only to blink heavily at him.

"I mean, sure, none of us can avoid the actual training while already working in the investigation team; it's ancient law; but personally, I'd feel better if people weren't saying I simply got the job because of my name."

"Harry,"

"No, Kingsley, I've had that for years. And really, what have I done to deserve the job?"

"Oh I don't know, Potter, perhaps you only managed to finish off – "

"Exactly.", Harry said curt. "I may have used some logic, but in the end I did nothing but disarm him. The rest's been just his own stupidity. And besides,"

"Harry,", Kingsley started again, "I believe my reasons are very legit. I believe you, of all, are able enough for the job. No one is going to question this."

"Ask those who've been questioning me in years.", he huffed. "Honestly, all I ask for is taking the exams. I don't want to sit in school for another year, but I'd like to say I've actually _achieved_ something."

"You brought us peace!", McGonagall moaned. "Is that nothing?"

"You don't understand, Professor. You don't know what it's like to hear people say you've just become an idol by chance and that you're actually incapable of anything. And they're right. Most things I've just gotten away with. Just so. And even though I've found myself in combat many times, I still don't feel it's enough to keep up that peace you believe me to have brought. I want to be sure I can do it, and you also know the many obstacles of bureaucracy, Professor. I just have the feeling that there will come the time when I will actually need some paper telling people I'm not just bragging with my name."

"Bragging with your name?", Ginevra chuckled.

"I mean, it's not like I got any talent, any skill,"

"Sorry?"

"Apart from stirring a broom, I mean,"

"Oh and of course it means nothing that you can create proper shields. Or conjure a full corporeal Patronus that can fight off a hundred Dementors. Or that you can manipulate a lot of people, magically and not. Or – "

"But being an Auror means much more. It's not just a handful of spells. You need to be an allrounder, in case. And you told me so too, Professor, if you remember. It's not just sitting in the office, working over papers. There's always the possibility to face any given situation out there. And none of you figured it, I did indeed acknowledge that Hermione won't be there all the time to help me out.", that one snorted.

"Still, Harry,", she then said, "You should rather be grateful that you were granted to jump right in. I mean, you've missed an entire year and if you recall, you haven't been particularly focused on practising for exams the previous two years either. How do you think there's any chance you – "

"But that's exactly the point!", he hissed. "If I'm currently incapable of finishing educational training, how am I supposed to – "

"Harry, not even I am going to take NEWTs without a year of preparation."

"Miss Weasley, I am certain, Potter meant that he would study all year."

"You think so, Ma'am?", she chuckled, her hands on her hips. "I'm not dumb. You've been planning that all along, haven't you?", Harry said nothing, but the looks they exchanged were quite clear.

"What?", Hermione gasped.

"What. You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what, Ginny?"

"Why he's been locking himself in, at any free hour? Or why he's been up way before us, hectically making papers and books vanish before any of us would spot it?"

"I – I though that was – office work – ", she stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Office work stays at the office.", Harry only meant. "For now. After all I've sworn the Confidentiality already."

"Still I don't see how Arithmancy would help you,", Ginevra said.

"It's a good training and distraction.", he replied blank.

"What?", it was Hermione again, shaking her head now.

"So if it's okay, I'll be taking the exams in September."

" _What?_ "

"Potter.", McGonagall said softly. "Maybe you haven't understood Miss Granger. But it – "

"Is not on her to decide, is it? It's on the Hogwarts teachers, and on the Ministry. They say whether I'm allowed. And Kingsley, if we're already at it, if that's possible, I'd like to have Marchbanks testing me. Tofty's a little too easily impressed, if you know what I mean and Coveridge is getting a little too demented. If I were you, I'd have her capability checked."

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do.", the Minister nodded.

"Very well then.", McGonagall sighed. "It seems to be clarified then. Look for my owl, Potter. I will send you the requirements. If you have any questions, you know how to contact me.", she meant another time to leave, but stopped in turn, speaking to the lot. "And go outside. It's a bright day. You shouldn't be sitting in such a dire room. Personally, I have to say, you all had far enough of that incense. Unless you don't want to die from intoxication, you should – ", a window jumped open, making Slughorn startle up from sleep and looking around utmost dizzy and dazzled from the light falling in where he sat. "Well, that is a start.", she sighed as she went, loading her weight on her stick. "And for Heaven's sake, Horace, stop drinking! We still need you at Hogwarts, sober, you hear me? _Sober!_ ", but Slughorn just brandished her off before she was gone, squinting like a mole and giving her a face quite close to what an annoyed Vernon Dursley would look like.

"Who opened the window, by the way?", Mrs Weasley asked.

"Which is it?", Draco distorted his neck to get a glimpse past her. "Oh. That one. That's our cat-window."

" _Cat_ -window?"

"Does whatever it likes to. Used to strain Voldemort's nerves to a breaking point on occasions. If I didn't have a girlfriend already, I'd marry it straight away."

~~#~~


	59. Chapter 58 - Roots

– Chapter 58 –

 **Roots..**

"Whow!"

A group of people sat around a large, round table, lit by a bright sun that fell in through the high windows. The magnificent, cloudless blue sky watched over them, but the roof was completely restored with all enchantments. Still standing against the walls for now, the long House Tables and benches had been repaired as far as they had been damaged and hundreds of candles were floating peacefully above, not burning however. He had noticed on his flight up from Hogsmeade that a lot of work had been done already and when he had seen the Entrance Hall and marble staircase he remembered having been a total dump, he couldn't deny his amazement. But finding the entire staff of Hogwarts united at lunch together with Aberforth, his breath caught.

"Harry!", Hagrid lilted full-throated and jumped up so fast he made the whole table shake, causing goblets to fall. "Sorry – I dinn' –", he mumbled, not seeing Harry's grin but rather the others shaking their heads before McGonagall cut him off by undoing the mess with a gentle wave of her wand. "Really sorry."

"Hey! What brings you here, boy?", asked Aberforth, smirking. "Come on, sit down with us. There's an empty chair. Sybill won't eat here. She said, she doesn't want to sit at a table that would hold thirty-seven people once she sat."

"Can't think why, but that sounds oddly familiar.", Harry meant. "Actually I – er – need a Pensieve.", he decided to be honest. "But yeah – why not? I mean, it's not like extracted memories can grow legs when they're stored in Mokeskin, can they?"

~~#~~

Loud chatting and lively music filled their ears the moment they entered, quite unnoticed. Only a few heads in their vicinity turned, just for devoting to what they had done before, one second after.

"Doesn't look like the place a notorious drunk and beater would hang out, if you ask me.", Draco mumbled.

"I've got that thought as well. But it's the only hint I have. We've met him right down at the corner, just like I said. Maybe lunchtime wasn't the best to chose."

"Hello, youngsters!", warbled the landlady behind the counter, looking like a sturdy Viking woman. "How can I help you?"

"Um – ", Hermione stepped up to her; Draco preferred to stay behind. "We actually just wanted to – well, we're looking for someone."

"Right, give me the name and I give you the number of drinks they had within the last decade.", the woman grinned.

"Tobias Snape.", the expression that instantly drifted on her face was not what Hermione had hoped for.

"Oops, you got me. Never heard of him. Sorry, darlings."

"Was worth a try, thanks.", they already turned to go when a dishevelled, very old looking man called them back.

"Snape, ya say? Tobias Snape?"

"Yes – ", Hermione gasped and spun around.

"Damn it! Been a long time since I heard that name! Well, his father was a workin' mate of mine,", her heart did a jump. "Lived down in Whitechapel. Dunno what became of the boy since he moved ter Cokeworth with that skinny blackhead ages ago, but ya'll never know, do ya? If I were ya, I'd ask in the Blind Beggar down there. Sam an' I'd been hangin' around in there after shifts. If ol' Barney still exists, he might be able ter tell ya bits."

"That – that sounds great – thank you, Sir!", Hermione aspirated.

"Nah, girl, there's never been much of a Sir ter me,"

"Um – Madam, what did he have?"

"Don' be a fool, kid.", the man waved her off. "Ya can' go 'round payin' the bills of everyone who's tellin' ya they knew ol' Sam! He's been famous among the Black Cats! Anyone who's seen the last century in the East End, can tell ya stories 'bout him. An' _I_ tell ya, the Blind Beggar's the place ya're lookin' for."

"Thank you so much, Sir. It really means a great deal to us.", almost in tears, Hermione shook his knobbly hands with both of her own.

"Nothin' ter thank, girl, not at all.", he presented her with a warm grin of uneven yellow teeth, the rows missing some.

Not even five minutes later they stood in front of a similarly old pub that, as Draco stated already before they entered this time, had more of a place someone like Tobias Snape would be spending their free time in.

All those grumpy figures hanging around in there, gave her the feeling that war hadn't really ended. Misery hadn't left the pub, or more, it was like all the misery in the world had sought shelter in it. Not much differing, and actually resembling the pub's name in ways, the old barkeeper who was cleaning a glass with a dishtowel eyed them as if they were some sort of aliens – or as though he couldn't fully see them. That was probably because he indeed was blind on the left eye, or because they were far from the average age of guests and the light coming only through the dusty windows was giving the room the atmosphere of an abandoned shack by the sea, being home to the ghosts of long dead sailors, although the street outside the dirty windows was bustling with people, who also were nothing but ghostly shadows passing by. It even smelled like fish, smoke and too much alcohol.

Hermione gulped, feeling Draco doing the same, and walked on, her nose unusually high in the reeking air, as though she could lift it above the cloud. The distance to the counter seemed like a hundred miles walk, watched by dozens of greedy beasts that were longing for nothing else than digging their poisoned teeth into fresh flesh, but they bore it. Finally arriving, Hermione climbed an empty barstool, noticing with slight amusement that Draco had his difficulties doing so.

"Whataya wan'?", growled the barman with an even more croaky voice than she remembered Mad-Eye Moody's to have been.

"Information.", Draco downright spat; the murmuring in the single room stopped instantly as though he had said an awful swearword.

"Ta drink, I mean. Firs' my business, then your business."

"Cola.", Hermione said quickly.

"An' tha stiff?"

"Er – what she said.", the barman turned to get two bottles from a cooled drawer. "What's that?", Draco moaned under his breath.

"You'll know soon enough.", Hermione mumbled back.

"Two times kola.", grunted the barman when he fiercely placed the bottles in front of the two and opened them.

"Um – ", Hermione blinked at the red content.

"Yes?"

"I actually meant the other, but – er – never mind. I'm fine with that too, thanks.", she sighed and took a sip, while Draco decided it to be better to just eye his bottle with cautious interest.

"So?", the tall man leant onto the dresser on the other side, baring teeth that looked comparatively clean and intact, with a downright haughty sneer and his greying brown hair looked much cleaner and smoother and browner than from further away, which made it quite unclear whether he was in his fifties but had seen too much touble, or had survived eighty years way too well – a sensation Hermione couldn't miss. "Information?", Draco cleared his throat.

"On the whereabouts of Tobias Snape."

"An' why would two young folks like you want ta know about him?"

"We need to tell him something.", meant Hermione.

"Which is?", the barman continued very slow, as though meaning to bind them to their stools long enough for Death himself to arrive.

"Our business.", she said taut, but fascinated by how scary a blind eye could be, especially when combined with a dirty grey brown mane.

"Then I can't help ya."

"Alright.", Hermione huffed. "We thought, he'd probably want to know that his son is dead."

"Oh shit – ", the barman's malevolent stare fell off immediately and he looked like he had received a smack in the face, but nevertheless he chuckled oddly when he straightened just a bit, blinking heavily with both eyes, the left lid twitching a little more. "Shit – I – I mean – now well, he might know already."

"What do you mean?", Draco's brows narrowed.

"I mean, he might've seen him on tha other side. Snuffed it years ago. God, how I miss that crappy language of his – "

" _What?_ ", Hermione moaned.

"Ol' Ma'am Canham said they'd carried him out in tha mornin', of December twen'y-eight, if you want it precisely. That was three years ago, but I remember it like it's been jus' yesterday. She came ta me, totally shocked."

"No.", she aspirated. "No. That can't be – "

"Said somethin' about `his son´ havin' visited him."

"At least that's right,"

"There's somethin' fishy about that, I keep tellin' people. He turns up after years and his father dies only days after."

"I know what this might look like, but if you are trying to say that – "

"Yes, that's what I'm tryin' ta say. Ev'ryone knows he's been as much a saint as his own father, hittin' his wife an' son, an' darin' ta come back here an' confessin' it all with his las' sip of booze ever. Hoped he'd changed not only his preferences of drinks then. But his dear _son_ might not have forgiven him. I wouldn't have either. But awful enough he killed him after Chris'mas an' even cried at tha doorstep when they brought him away."

"Then he hasn't killed him.", Hermione sighed with relief.

"Tha boy's a psychopath, I tell ya. Deserved death too."

" _Take that back!_ ", she was on her feet so quickly that she had no idea when she had left her seat; which crashed to the floor; or even put down the bottle.

"Easy, girl, easy!", murmured the barman with his hands raised, being the only one who hadn't startled when she had unintentionally made several glasses behind him explode on their shelves in addition. "Get in there.", he gave a short nod on a lone door at their right, next to the u-shaped counter. "I said, get in there!", the man hissed and they decided to better follow his order. "An' close it behind."

Slightly embarrassed, Hermione slouched over with Draco and meant to close the door as well, but Draco stopped her just in time for the handle to snap up without latching. Careful not to make a sound, he pushed the door open only two more inches broad and they peered outside. Hidden behind the counter, the barman had drawn a wand and repaired all the shattered glasses. Then he cast multiple memory modifying charms on the guests, who turned their heads away from him almost simultaneously before he left his position and joined them. They slightly jumped up the footworn wooden stairs when he slipped in and huffed at them before he thoroughly closed the door at last.

"Knew you'd be eager ta find out. Now, sorry if I'd upset you. Had ta make sure, you're tha right ones. He told me you'd be upset if I said that, you know?"

"Er – what?", Draco blinked.

"Came ta me, you see? Said that if he'd die, it wouldn't be long someone would come askin' for his father's whereabouts. Said, it'd be a girl, mos' likely. Nothin' too precise. Too many people around. Slipped that into tha cup after he'd drunk his tea.", the man reached into his vest and pulled a corked phial from an inside pocket. "Carried it with me ever since. I've got a Pensieve upstairs if you want ta look at it now.", he gave Hermione the extracted memory which she clutched as though she had just received the biggest treasure on earth.

"I have my own, thanks."

"Didn't dare ta look at it, but I think, it's tha truth about how Toby died. I don't think Severus killed him either. I'd never seen him that miserable. An' I didn't tell anyone a thing that'd put bad light on him; I really liked that guy, well, both. Known Severus since he was a lil kid. It's my flat they'd rented, and Severus kept payin' me all tha years, but told me ta not drop a breath about his father, neither the other way. Can't blame 'em. However, Toby's been dyin' ever since he left tha two. He already looked horrible when he moved away from London, but when he returned, he was a wreck. Hasn't gotten much better over tha years. But you should've seen him before that Chris'mas. Came in, pullin' me right in here where we stand now, grinnin' all over tha face an' tellin' me that he'd seen one of his sons, under Polyjuice Potion but alive an' with a girl.", Hermione couldn't avoid blushing a little.

"That would be me. He escorted me to a safe place because the dad of my – of one of my friends got attacked.", she smirked, ignoring the side-glance Draco gave her. "Did he tell you how he recognised him? Severus didn't – "

"Well, I always knew he was kinda empathetic. Bein' tha Muggle he was, it was scary ta hear him tellin' you what you felt like at tha moment. I think, after all tha years, he'd still known his son. How'd he die? Tha _Prophet_ didn't write about it. Curious, since they usually mention Hogwarts teachers,"

"That's because the _Prophet_ hasn't written about anyone who died in the battle.", Hermione grunted, unintentionally angry like every time the topic fell.

"Oh. Sure he died there.", the barman meant to sigh, but his breath got stuck.

"He sacrificed himself for us all.", said Draco. "With `us´, I don't mean – "

"Death Eaters, no. Sorry for your father, by tha way. Yeah, I know who you are. Don't want ta be rude talkin' about him, but from what I heard, he's been ill enough too since Azkaban."

"He has. Actually I think, everyone's better off now, especially him."

"Well, life's a bitch.", he could finally finish his sigh. "A whole big chaos an' not all of us find their way. Should know that, seein' tha los' ones every day. Now, get back ta your kola before they miss me. Still need tha bar for a livin'. All of us here."

~~#~~

It had gotten later than three o'clock, Harry could tell by thinking back when he had heard the bells last. Now all he wished to was making his way up to the Headmaster office alone, as fed as he still was. The others had meanwhile taken on the biggest task: restoring a whole front of the castle that had collapsed during the battle. By what he had heard from them and his friends, that meant long corridors and parts of classrooms on five floors as well as Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. On his way up, he had shortly seen the ghost gliding through one of the intact corridors, homeless and howling a rather pitiful song. Never had he hurried for a shortcut faster. Only this way, he had been able to avoid her.

Though like usual when having a goal, some fortune got all its arms together for delaying him. This time, it sent him another pathetic whimper from a corner. Harry stopped and walked backwards to see who it was. Frozen by the sight, though he had faced it quite similarly before, he stared down at the boulder of a man, crouched up on the floor against the wall, crying heavy tears into his moustache. For a little while he just stood there, aghast, until the washed pale gooseberries rolled up to only make the elderly man gasp with shock.

"H-Harry!", he moaned feebly and his lips trembled under the white beard.

"It's – ", Harry swallowed something that had gotten stuck in his throat and unconsciously raised a hand to appease his former teacher, "It's fine, we all cry sometimes."

Curling his lips, he knelt down by his side and, though hesitantly, placed his hand gentle on the other's left shoulder, startling him again. Seeing him so deflated, all the pride having left him, saddened Harry and he felt guilty for not having seen it then, when he had sat in that old armchair with a glass of wine, mumbling stories about old days with a smile that had actually been nothing but a lousy attempt to hide a mountain of grief above which a disastrous storm had rained, then flooding the valley below, the surface still rising.

"Tell me about him.", Harry said softly, but was presented with heavy, confused blinking.

"Who?", the walrus gargled.

"The man you knew. It's hard to miss you'd known a different man than I have."

"Oh Harry – ", the sigh that left him sounded heavier than his belly appeared. "But alright – I can see that you have the right to know. After all – well, I think, I should start with the moment I met him. At first, I had believed to just have another one of those reckless little brats in front of me, you see, one of those who knew better, no matter what you would tell them. Stared up at me with an obvious disgust – I reckon, his mother might have vaccinated him. She hadn't liked me much, I remember.", he wiped off some of the tears with his sleeve and a woeful smile drifted onto his white cheeks. "Whatever. So he sat there, with this really grim impression – and kept mumbling into nearly all of my sentences. He corrected – like – every word I said! B-but when I told them to begin, he just started – without a look into the book – or the instructions on the board – he didn't even follow it precisely. Of course I red-flagged it, but he dismissed me angrily. Oddly enough, he had been the only one to be done in time and the result had been marvellous. Just like his neighbour's, who however had followed the rules."

"As wondrously satisfying it is to hear a story confirmed I might have just as well guessed, Sir,", sighed Harry and took his hand off to sit in tailor-fashion, "I actually meant Lucius Malfoy."

The smile slid off so fast he had expected to hear it land somewhere. In addition, the blinking was back and the more yellowish eyes tried to avoid his. A little panic in his quiet voice, he spoke on, to the opposite corridor wall.

"But H-Harry – w-weren't we on f-first-n-name terms – already?"

"We were.", Harry said hollow, his expression though not as blank as he wished it to be. "Sorry. Force of habit. And you should be able to remember that you can't trick me out of a question I desperately seek to be answered. Especially not as pathetically easy as you tried now."

"Alright, alright!", he muttered, but wouldn't look at Harry however. "If it satisfies you to tantalise me – "

"Not at all. I merely came to prefer understanding a matter before I proclaim my bottomless rancour for it.", the way the man eyed him now was utterly questionable, but he couldn't care less next to his need for another confirmation. "I want to know the man _you_ knew, _Horace_."

"Fine, if it really pleases you; he was the complete opposite to Severus. Candid, social – oh well, rather socially acceptable, but he was favoured and he knew to relish it every second, while Severus did his best to avoid that for himself, even years after Lucius had graduated. He cared more about his popularity than marks and he was really good at wrapping everyone around his little finger.", Horace demonstrated it by holding up his right hand in a fist, with the little finger stretched off and the smile was back. "But you must understand,", he quickly threw in a defence, "He never dared to – ah – win my – ah – "

"Affection?"

"Harry – ", he aspirated, visibly troubled.

"That word has quite a number of meanings; like so many, dependent on the context."

"Right. Yes, right you are.", Horace sighed and Harry decided not to pick. "But he also had a talent for commanding people, for making them obey, you see. That is why I eventually granted him a Prefect's badge,"

"And I believe, by that moment – he had been wrapped up in his new task? Fulfilled it eagerly? And reported every teensy detail to you?"

"I cannot recall when you have learned to be at least a fairly good Legilimens,"

"Oh I don't think I'd unnecessarily annoy myself with the effort of breaking into your mind. It's all there in your eyes anyway.", those, as if on command, turned away to the corridor wall again. "Listen.", Harry was back on his knees and the hand on Horace's shoulder; and their eyes met – the ones distorted by woe, the others by sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"No need – "

"I'm sorry I asked,"

"What?", the woe clearly diminished with that gasp.

"While I knew."

"While you knew what?"

"Believe me,", Harry said softly, "Horace,", the look he received gave him pause and he used it to study the eager eyes flicking between his due to the little distance. "I recognise it when I see it."

"What – what do you recognise, m'boy?", the elder breathed.

"You loved him.", he said firm and the moustache trembled. "And there's no use denying it. That'd just be a crime to his memory.", Horace's lids sank and his whole head with them. "Look, I only wanted to know if he had been a good man before he joined the Death Eaters.", he received the faint attempt of a nod. "Because he was when he left them.", the head jerked back up. "I'd hated him, sure, even more when he tried to summon Voldemort to hand us over, but looking at it now, I can only see a father. I think, if I had been in his position, and the only way to save my son was sentencing a couple of other teenagers to certain death with no visible chance to save them too – I – ", Harry shortly blinked into space, but sure that this was his opinion, he looked at him once more, "I'd have decided for my son, no matter that it meant it'd look like I devotedly serve the bad guys. I'm not a father yet, and I don't know how it would feel, but I think I would have done so."

"But why – ", Horace hissed pleadingly, "Why did he then – leave his son – why did – he – "

"You've been away from his private life for a long time and I hadn't had any time yet to ask Draco, but there must have been something, some immense guilt, something that made him hate himself so much that he could have – probably believed – that the world was better off without him, I don't know. Draco said it's better this way for everyone. He'd treated him badly as a child. I think, Draco woke up at some point and realised that it wasn't right – just like he'd woken up on many other things, in time to get out – and if Lucius realised that, what sort of father he had been to him – I don't want to imagine the fights they may have had. If Draco blamed him, and kept blaming him after the battle,"

"Is – is that really your theory?", Horace looked as if he saw a phantom materialising before him to tear out his heart, again.

"I think so, yes.", Harry nodded. "I know it's not nearly as simple as what the _Prophet_ wrote, but if it's that – the odds are that Draco might blame himself for his father's death. I really don't want to worry you, but if he's like his father in this case, he might try to end his life too."

"Harry!"

"I know it's – just speculations – but say it's not and it turns out to be the truth, I'd really like to know if you could figure a way to stop him efficiently."

"Me?"

"After all, you knew his father much, much better than I did. Would you help me save that bastard's life?"

"Horace? Harry? What – what by all means are you doing here? On the floor?", they hadn't heard her coming from the corridor, but it might have been because she had come as a cat and they only saw her when she transformed. "Oh goodness – "

"Ah – Minerva – yes – I – ", Horace dropped a weak chuckle, "Lost track of time, I suppose. Harry, would you – "

"Sure.", not without some difficulty, he helped him up.

"Thank you m'boy."

"Now come, Horace.", Minerva held out her hand. "Do some handy work to get your mind off."

"Yes, yes, yes. Ah – Harry – I – I don't know how to – say – er – Lucius – he liked little adventures, you see? He liked a bit of a thrill, if you know what I mean."

"Slightly, yes.", he didn't bother the glare, but he knew he should have tried to shield that thought from him.

"He was most open if he was – in a new situation. Something exciting, but it had to last long enough for him to get comfortable with it."

"Right.", Harry nodded once again. "Thanks."

"If it is any – any help to save the poor boy – "

"Might be, yes. Thank you.", they turned to separate, but Harry threw a brief look over his shoulder. "Good luck – "

Minerva only dismissed him wit a slack wave of her hand before they disappeared around the corner and he set forth up the tower, nearly having forgotten what he had meant to do. Back in the trot, he only noticed that he had reached his destination when he made a curious discovery, seconds before he would have ran straight into it.

"Er – ", he stopped at the statue that stood just as if nothing had happened to it.

"Are you really naïve enough to think I wouldn't let you in, Potter? Unless you go for her private rooms, you may enter, of course."

"Thanks!"

Harry chuckled and continued his way to the office which he found quiet, apart from the fine sizzling and jingling of various objects that once had belonged to Dumbledore, as well as the snoring of some portraits. Did they always have to do that? He knew most of them were pretending, since he had heard them talking before he had opened the door. Scorning them, he acted as though he had taken their bait and tiptoed towards a specific tile in the floor on which he stepped cautiously and snuck over to the secret cupboard where the Pensieve rested, its content glowing mystically.

"Back again, Harry?", Dumbledore's bemused whisper made him jump and almost scream before he spun. "I am sorry, if I spooked you."

"I – I wondered whether – ", Harry whispered back, "I mean, she's given me permission to – er – "

"Well of course you may use the Pensieve.", leaning on his arm, the old man's portrait smiled heart-warmingly and closed his eyes again.

"Thanks."

He turned back to the bowl and pulled his Mokeskin Pouch from beneath his clothes, rummaging it for the flask Luna had given to him. Having expected it, and therefore even more cursing under his breath, he pulled back his hand and sucked on his bleeding fingers with self-contempt. That was the third time in a week he had to take his wand from his pocket for performing a muttered healing spell because of that mirror shard. Now he knew he would have to find a box for it eventually. Yes, it was helping him to improve his skills, but it was also unnerving.

Fingers healed, he simply summoned the vessel; being childishly proud of managing to do at least that non-verbally now; and caught the object the moment his eyes got to see it. For some seconds he just studied the silvery essence, calming down to a mood he preferred not to have, but then removed the tiny cork and poured the memories into the Pensieve, where they became black. Taking a deep breath, he dived his face in and immediately fell, seemingly.

Anxious students were running through him and he snorted at the shock when it went by. That moment he saw him standing next to a black piano. At Harry's own side, a few feet behind the man, stood Luna, wearing her school uniform and a pair of glittering purple stars dangling from her ears. He heard the doors falling shut, but didn't turn for them. Instead, he studied the black figure that pulled a handkerchief and wiped it over some keys that gave a mournful sound on the touch. Apparently having noticed it, the pale fingers pushed them down again and seconds later he sat himself at the piano, slowly starting to continue a song the keys had started with a chord.

Not noticing it, Harry's lips glided open, just a wee bit, as he listened to the beautiful sad song, the player's face hidden behind curtains of greasy hair. Even though the scene dissolved after about a minute, the song carried on to play and he found himself at the entrance of the very same hall, but a different light was cast over masses of students and the walls were decorated with golden garlands. Across the front window hung a yellow banner that read `Happy Retirement, Professor Altena!´ in big black letters. A band played against the piano he still heard. Just then he startled at the sight of the person to his right.

He was not much older than fifteen or sixteen and his long black hair was unusually bouffant and wavy, but more silky than Harry had seen it when he had dried it after the worst of that embarrassing encounters in his office more than a year ago. Silky enough to reflect the light coming from the hall, where the shorter ends didn't stand off in weird directions. Actually he looked quite like on the photo of the choir – and another that flashed up before Harry's eyes, a photo on which he hadn't even recognised him then. But it was unimportant now. He was not fond of feeling stupid again.

The fingers that had pressed the keys moments before, were younger as well and dug into the frame of one of the widely open doors as he watched the other students dance, nervousness written all over his pale face. Harry's eyebrows narrowed with an unwanted smirk at the elegant black robe with silver embroidery and ornamental clasps. It must have cost him a small fortune, but Harry had an idea that there existed a reason for saving so much money. He followed the dark, glazed eyes and saw her.

Wearing a long strapless gown of green velvet that matched her eyes, her dark ginger mane waved with her spinning. Something silver sparkled on her chest. Her partner's dress robes were of a rather poor quality, in a mousy brown that matched his hair and his tired face bore some; even from that distance; visibly fresh cuts. The song was over and it was hard to tell who was more exhausted. But definitely, Lily had had more fun. Out of breath, her smile began to vanish a little when another teenager approached her with a drink he offered her. In a second of James being distracted by Sirius who had come with him, she waved her hand over the glass. Harry didn't know what it had caused, but he guessed that she might have transfigured the content to something more to her favour. Stunned that she had done it wandless and non-verbally, he found himself entrusted with a new task even before she lifted the glass to her lips, taking a more than self-satisfied sip. Remus hadn't missed it and swallowed down a laugh, whereupon his lips curled, before he briefly waved them goodbye to get something for his own thirst.

Now James took Lily by the hand and brought her off the dance floor when the next song started. The sound of the piano was gone and Harry didn't need to make up a reason why. Sirius followed the two. Suddenly Lily escaped a shriek and she nearly dropped her glass. Some other boy had crept up from behind, but as soon as she recognised him, her warm laugh echoed over the music for some seconds. Then it faded into a broad smile and Peter returned it, a little awkward though when she shook her head.

"Boo!", said someone behind him and Harry startled, though composed enough within a second to see that the one whom it had been meant for, hadn't winced at all.

"Do I look as if you frightened me, Reg?", Severus groaned boredly with an already deep voice and looked up and down the bright white gown of the slightly younger teenager, who couldn't have been mistaken for whom he was – the elegant waves fell past his shoulders and the eyes were the same as his brother's, but he was as thin as Severus and appearing a little smaller than the one who still walked towards them with pauses as students crossed their way. "Even though you look like a ghost – "

"Oh come on,", Regulus chuckled a chuckle Harry hadn't realised he still missed. "I don't nearly look like a ghost."

"No.", Severus grumbled, his eyes back with the group. "Ghosts are transparent.", Harry almost choked on his tongue. "Charming.", Regulus had whipped out his wand, tapped it on his own head and the black marbles briefly flicked at where he had suddenly disappeared.

"I'll go find Eli then.", said the air with Regulus' voice.

"Hard to overlook her hiding place. She's yakking on Dumbledore."

Harry looked up to the centred table by the hall face and could just spot a very young girl with curled blond pigtails that were decorated with pencils and her dress was glittering – she could have been Luna's mother, telling from her regalia, but she did look too familiar to him for that. Sirius was pushed aside by something he stared after, but couldn't figure out what it had been. So he shrugged it off.

They had finally made their way to a round table not far from the door, where only girls sat. Those looked up and instantly fiddled about with their hairdos. Harry couldn't hold back a laugh of his own. Even though he was approaching them with his stunningly beautiful; but natural; girlfriend, they were quite openly trying to look better than her for a slight chance he might ditch her for them. While James was obviously too much in love to see it, Sirius took the chance to stick out his chest with manly pride and Peter shrunk to something flushed beyond normal possibility.

Harry made some steps forward to better hear what they were talking, but was again confronted with one of the disadvantages of watching a memory: nothing about the volume changed. So he had the same hard job listening as the shy one at the doors. Unnecessarily, he took a look over his shoulder and stepped aside when he saw that he blocked his view. Realising how stupid that had been, he gave a quiet grunt.

"Oh I wouldn't say that, Sarah. You totally underestimate her.", Lily noted. "I tell you, you should be aware."

"Of what? The pimples? You think they could attack me?", the other girls giggled with Sarah.

"Rather infest you if you don't stop being so rude. It's not her fault, after all."

"She could wash her face.", again the girls giggled.

"Well, she does."

"God – what have I landed myself in?", James moaned, laughing ironically.

"Right point. You landed _yourself_ in that. I'd have danced on if Remus hadn't been close to faint. Where is he anyway? It can't take him so long to get a drink and come here.", she leant back and searched the upper half of the hall, unsuccessful.

"He'll find us, I'm sure.", James pulled her to the table by putting his hand on her back.

"Watch out, James.", said a blonde in a golden dress with a naughty smirk. "She's worried for another guy while being with you,"

"Don't _worry_ , Mia. My red rose won't drop me in a corner for one of my best friends."

As if it had been his sign, the thin boy left the door. Harry heard it by the demonstrative sound of his shoes. Again, he jumped to make space for him.

"Oh, my, god.", another ginger, who wore a pink dress, aspirated; Harry saw her adjusting a pin in the corner of his eye when Lily turned away from the instantly flushed other girls.

"Now who's that?", Harry first thought that James actually hadn't recognised him due to the difference from his normal appearance, but was wrong. "Found the way to the bathroom, Snivellus? And where have you stolen those – clothes? How long did it take you to put them on, the right end up?"

"Not longer than it took you to fail seven marvellous times in a row,", the young Severus smiled softly and without the slightest hint of hate or disgust. "Alone since you dared to approach the beauty you wish to be _owning_."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, as I expected. Let me enlighten you then. First, she does not drink alcohol. Second, a ball is about dancing and people doing this are normally thirsty afterwards. Unless they are drunk already, alcohol could cause circulatory collapse, even if they do indeed not mind it. Third, it is impolite to seize a girl's hand when wanting to escort her from a dance floor. It makes girls feel as though they were kidnapped for being raped."

"What do _you_ know about girls.", James snarled; only half of the girls had giggled now, but those who had, were clearly unsure whether they should have.

"Fourth,", all of them were calmly ignored, "There are many roses sitting on this table, one with sharper thorns than the other. The flower you referred to, is not nearly alike one of those tactless, rough killers.", that sentence definitely worked like the strike of an entire army against the other girls who instantly stopped playing with their hair, but Lily was charmed, which she expressed with a blushing smile. "Fifth, as I stated, you cannot _own_ a girl, especially not when you wish to call her your _girlfriend_. Sixth, you just gave a perfect example of your dreadful company manners and maturity, and seventh, this kindest and most beautiful flower of all wishes to dance. You made the biggest mistake by dragging her from her place of favour and throwing her into a lion's den.", his dark eyes finally moved from James to Lily and he made a gentle bow, offering his hand. "May I be granted the pleasure of the next dance, Milady?"

"Certainly, Milord.", smiled Lily and took it, letting herself be pulled to her feet with grace.

"Oops,", Sirius snickered to the bewitched ceiling when Lily was offered an arm now, on which she laid her hand and went with a happy grin.

Leaving the frustrated teenagers behind and following the two through the hall, Harry found himself battling a thought that had troubled him before. _How?_ How could they have possibly had ended up married? A new warm smile blew away his considerations. The two had reached the dance floor right when the song had stopped and Harry now wondered whether Severus had known it would go like this. Marvelling at that smile that resembled much the one he had seen first on a photo, Harry blinked heavily. The band started anew. His blinking froze and transformed into a highly interested frown. He didn't know much about music, but the song was definitely a tango.

As if they had been asked to, the other dancers cleared the floor when noticing the ready pair in the middle. At a table under the banner, Harry could see teachers straighten. Among them, his silver hair and beard shining under his red hat, Dumbledore. Horace and Minerva flanked him, the little girl with pigtails and; visible from that distance; a lot of pimples, squeezed in between him and Horace.

"Are you sure, you can do that?", Lily whispered malicious when she was pulled close with a little, but seemingly professional force. "I know I can, but can you?"

"Lemme surprise ye.", the answer came in a whisper as well when she was bent dangerously to the floor and _Ah_ s and _Ooh_ s were given by the people around.

Chuckling, Harry stepped away from them again. Somehow he felt small. Drowning in admiration of their dancing skills, he demonised his incapability of so many things, dancing being just one of them. But he had to confess, he had never really tried, not even at the Yule Ball. Some people clapped occasionally when the two made a move that was exceptionally good. But when it came to that, Harry thought, he would have had to applaud all the time.

Watching them dance was not only painfully disarming for him alone, that much he could tell without having to take a look at a specific table. Now he remembered those said dancing lessons for the Yule Ball and came to the conclusion that he might have actually given the Slytherins some. As far as Harry knew; and saw; tango was rather difficult to dance as well as to look good at it, and if he could have done that with such precision and passion at this age, it was no doubt he could have taught some teenage lumps simple dances many years later.

Lily made close contact with the floor one last time and he even held her there for a while to make her enjoy the biggest applause after the band's final chord, before he carefully pulled her to her feet again, took a step backwards and kissed her hand with a little curtsey. They left the dance floor through a gap that had been opened by the crowd to let them towards the bar. Seeing that the memory didn't change, Harry hurried after the two, accompanied with the beginning of the next dance. But instead of the bar, Severus brought her to the backdoor and out.

Once the door was closed and all sound locked inside the Great Hall, Lily leant against the cool wall, panting her joy out.

"Win. You – got me. Should have – thought – you wouldn't risk – a disgrace anymore."

"Well, wha' can I say?", he replied in dialect and scratched his neck when he imitated her, "I do me bes' ter avoid 'ose now."

"Took you quite a time."

"Nah – only – wha's it? Fifteen years an' six months?", Harry couldn't help grinning at the laugh they had, though something was different about his mother, something was missing.

"Almost.", Lily calmed down.

"Tha' pocke' full o' days – who counts 'em.", Severus waved her off and turned onto his left shoulder for wiping a wet strand from her face, and Harry noticed that her necklace was gone; he blamed the discovery on his talents as a Seeker.

"I do.", she smiled gently when the hand came to rest on her cheek.

"O' course.", he whispered and she bent her left leg as she turned to face him as well. "Wha're ye doin'?"

"Now what does it look like, Sev?", there was a strap attached to her lower leg from which she pulled her wand.

"Lef' 'and?", it took Harry more than a second to decipher that.

"It's never been and obstacle for me, you know that."

"Yeah. I'm still 'opin' ter see ye fail at any magic ye do."

"Even my toes'll have deep wrinkles before you'd see that. Where've you gotten that masterpiece from?"

"I sol' photos o' James under tha shower ter quite a number o' girls.", he grinned.

"Sev,"

"I 'aven' stolen it, if ye mean tha'."

"But you couldn't have earned that much in summer. Not for that job."

"No, bu' I _did_ sell sum'thin' in addition."

"Yes?"

"Ma'am Primpernelle paid me qui'e a sum fer me recipe.", he pointed on his cheek with his free hand while he began to fondle hers, his eyes becoming dreamy.

"Can she even read it?"

"Who cares? She said two 'undred, I agreed."

"Two – two hundred?", her eyes and mouth gaped. "Not – Galleons?"

"Ye think she paid me in pickled frogs?"

"Two hundred tiny shiny Galleonsies?"

"Yep.", he playfully tapped on her nose.

"You nasty beast. Someone should knock you out with a Bludger instantly."

"Oh I can think o' sum'thin' far more effective,"

Lily snickered with played conceit and gave her wand a number elegant waving moves that resulted in something Harry knew too well: she had secured the area and made them undetectable. What for, he understood a second before she closed her eyes like him and lifted her chin. He lowered his head to bridge the distance between their lips that met tenderly. A bit embarrassed, Harry looked away when their kissing became intimate and was glad that the piano was back to his ears. When he dared to look up again, he was yet again in the Great Hall. Lily just came strolling through the gilded doors with some of her friends, chatting, giggling, simply being girls. Harry however stood by the front end of the Slytherin table, where a head had shot up the moment she had entered.

Her entry being enough reason for Severus to abandon his unusual breakfast, he raised and walked around the tables to the middle corridor. But his quick steps were stopped halfway down the hall. Though Remus gave a rather slack protest, James had swung his legs over the bench and blocked the way with Sirius who had imitated him. The little Peter sat on the other side of the table next to Remus and therefore decided to stay. James crossed his arms, while Sirius pushed his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers. Studying the one by his own side, wearing his green and silver tie rather tight and straight over the white shirt only while the other two were wearing their complete uniform, though a little sloppy, he saw where Lily's necklace had gone: it rested on Severus' tie.

"Well, well, well, Snivellus.", James sneered. "Thinking you can just steal my girlfriend right under my nose, do some crappy steps, keep her hostage – and believe I'll turn you loose?"

"Get out of my way.", Severus only mumbled, cold, but indifferent and wanted to walk around him, but was blocked again.

"Oh no. Not so fast."

"Leave him alone!", the blonde Hufflepuff who had sat between Dumbledore and Horace the previous evening, had raised for defence, her curled pigtails jumping.

"Keep out of other people's business, _Gar_ bage.", James snorted and Harry knew now who the girl must have been, and he felt dreadful, realising that everyone around him had died by now, but Sirius' eyes popped out at someone who had stepped up behind Severus; that diminished Harry's woe as he meant to concentrate more on what he watched there. "Now what's that?", he chuckled, his eyes on the locket. "Jewellery? I knew you were a girl, Snivvy!", some people in the vicinity roared with laughter, but Harry saw Lily separating from her friends, stomping fiercely and a badge like James' glistening on her chest in the morning light. "Let's see – ", James gave his wand a flick and the locket zoomed at him, its thin chain dangling.

"Give it back to him!", the second Slytherin gnarled and by that it was even harder to miss the resemblances in both voice and looks when Sirius barked in return.

"The hell he will! Keep out of that if you don't want to join the Elves,"

"I'm gonna chop off _your_ goddamned head!", Regulus had drawn his wand, but a quick hand pushed it down before he could attempt to jinx his brother.

"He's right, Reg. Keep out."

"I won't let them get away this time,"

"No."

"Amy – "

" _I think_ ,", continued James, "I know something that'll give you a lesson. Maybe an owl will see it and get it down for you. _Maybe_."

And suddenly Harry felt himself reminded of his first flying lesson ever. James wound up and threw the locket high up in the air, towards one of the glassless windows right under the roof, where normally the owls flew in through when delivering mail. All heads turned after it as it hit the inner buttresses that melted with the clear blue of the enchanted ceiling with such speed that it knotted itself around the wood by the chain and got stuck up there. Immediately, the hall fell silent. Dumbledore had raised, looking as irate as Lily and Regulus.

"Mr Potter!", he shouted, but James remained unimpressed, struck by his triumph; even more when Severus stretched out his arm and meant to summon the locket, but it didn't stir.

"Oops, I s'ppose, you'd need a wand for that!", Sirius laughed along, but Lily had pushed her way through the two, startling them much as she placed herself between them and Severus, and with a flick of her eyes behind, pushed down Regulus' once more raising hand as well. "Amy, huh? As I say! He's a girl!", James grinned, seeming to have forgotten that such had just given him an elbow check and Remus only sighed to the table he still sat at.

"Won't you for once grow up!", she spat at them and Harry winced at the volume; James and Sirius looked appalled.

"Calm down, Lily.", Severus said with the accent he had carried before. "I'll ge' it."

"What?", she spun around and watched him taking off his shoes and socks, some horrific awareness instantly written all over her face. "No – "

"Yes.", he said definite and with two simple waves of his hand and startled squeals, an alley was formed between the students and dishes on both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table, facing the cold fireplace at the side wall.

"No – _no!_ "

"Dun' worry, I'll do tha'.", he said languidly, but Lily didn't lose her anxiousness.

"Sev – that's – that's different – different from the rest of the castle – Severus – it's too straight – too high – nothing in between – you can't – "

"I wun' know if I dun' try."

"That's insane!", hissed Regulus. "You can't be meaning to – Amy! Just 'cause you're a goddamned Seeker – "

Seeker? A certain photograph flashed up before Harry's eyes again, and he actually cursed himself now for not having recognised him on it, sitting just to Regulus' right. But that meant that either the sitting order hadn't been the same then as these days, or they had swapped seats for whatever reason. Harry though rather suspected it to have been the fate of having to be captured sitting next to Horace for eternity.

"Please, Sev – that's not worth it – it's not worth risking your life – "

But the look he gave them said it all and he quickly composed his body, all eyes on him. Harry looked up to the staff table. Minerva's mouth stood wide open without her notice, Dumbledore looked alarmed but confused at the same time, and Horace was ashen. Severus had taken a run-up and his bare feet sped up the bench and table and across the gap to the next table from which he pushed himself off even faster, jumping high up, reaching for the top edge of the huge mantelpiece which his fingers caught easily and he swung himself onto the slim rim of stone, further up the slope body of the hood, which seemed rather easy for him due to the big Hogwarts coat of arms that adorned it. Although being almost as steep as the wall itself, he quickly crawled higher on the otherwise even stone and got hold of one of the half-columns that supported the buttresses.

Harry's heart probably hammered as hard against his Adam's Apple as Severus' while he watched him climbing higher and higher without losing much speed, focused on his target, every single step dangerously close to be the last. But he ran up the soffit of the wide arch already, like a monkey on a palm tree, and as soon as he reached a free area, he swung his right leg around the thick carved wood, resting, if only for a moment.

He heard his mother take a deep relieved breath and barely saw Regulus shaking his head with disbelief. Though Severus pulled himself onto the ornaments and stepped sideways up there, almost swallowed by the blue himself, climbing through the enchantment. Harry wondered how that felt for him, but knowing of the intensity of his memories he had watched previously, he knew that if there had been a change, he would have felt it as well. And then, as if it was the easiest thing to do, he sat down, wrapped his legs around the arch once more, loosened the locket, fixed it around his neck again and rolled to the side, hanging upside-down then, above the middle corridor.

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Minerva shaking her head as well, with her hand on her hovering chest. Lily stood exactly below Severus now and they looked into one another's eyes. She stepped back. So did the Black brothers, James and the young Charity, who appeared like they had settled their affairs.

"I'm – warnin' – ye,", Severus panted, "Dun' – do – anythin' – I'm – 'bou' ter – top – me Mum. Dun' do – "

"I had no intentions.", Lily only sighed, utterly hollow, but audibly relieved, as if he was already back standing on solid stone, even though he was still hanging with his head down, nearly molten with the image of the sky outside, but his hands on his thighs as though he was sitting on one of the benches.

Severus let go, clearly visible again. The entire hall held their breath when he fell, turned in midair, sailing like a bird and though it was only seconds, it seemed like an endless fall – and then he was not falling anymore. With a forward roll He had pushed his legs towards the ground, adjusted himself once again, and was now gliding rather, sinking as a little stone would do in a lake, slowly like Lily had years ago on that playground near their home – and he touched the floor even softer than if he had hopped down from a chair, the only sound; seconds after; a loud rumble from the staff table.

All heads zoomed at the source: Horace had fainted and slid down between his chair and the table, coming to lie under it, which looked rather odd due to his body shape. Dumbledore visibly huffed and dropped his shoulders with his eyes closed. Breaking the silence another time, Lily chuckled. More relieved, but also amused, and Severus couldn't help joining in, before he took off the locket, stepped closer. Her laughing fading to a warm smile, she let him lay it around her neck. Not taking her eyes off him, she addressed James, grim, while Regulus meant to pat Severus on the shoulder, but seemed unsure whether to touch him at all.

"Next time you throw something up to the sun, you should consider asking whether it actually belongs to whom you think it does. And if you really paid attention to me yesterday, you'd have known that I lost it while dancing with Remus. And you,", she craned her neck and gave Severus a small kiss on the cheek, "Wait until everyone else's gone before you punch your insanity into their faces, little show-off. Well, unless you want him – ", she shortly nodded up to Dumbledore, "Visit your Mum again."

"All righ'.", Severus panted with an embarrassed smirk.

"You two are so full of yourselves – be careful or either of you might get yourselves killed by that one day. You excuse me, I'm hungry."

"Sure.", he said and stepped aside for her.

While she sat down between some other of her Housemates, he turned for the Marauders, gave them an unconcealed glare of vanity and, not only to Harry's surprise, became greyish white fog, took off across their heads and rushed from the hall that vanished in darkness and a melody.

Forced to listen to the second half of the song, he wondered whether his mother had ever gotten to hear it. For sure she had, Harry considered. But if she had – wouldn't that have given her one less reason to marry James? Had he ever gotten to find out that she had cheated on him? And why had he –

The song was gone another time before it could end and Harry met with an old side alley and an older Severus Snape. He wasn't too much older though, but looking like he had been through at least something more than just being taunted by his classmates. His hair was hidden beneath the hood of his long black cloak and his face was excitement mixed with sorrow around his sunken in eyes. Outside, in the sunlit street, Lily was talking to another woman. On her arm she carried a basket that held what appeared to be the purchase from a market. Harry could perceive leeks. The women waved each other goodbye and Lily turned for the dark, narrow alley between the windowless sides of the old houses, too in thoughts to pay attention to her surrounding until – her eyes shot open in horror and the basket slipped from her arm.

In a split-second reaction she had drawn her wand from the long, buttoned sleeve of her blouse and pointed it on him. But then she must have recognised him for who he was as she lowered it, the shock becoming disbelief. It was then that he pushed back his hood and slowly stepped towards her. Trying to figure out what was actually going on, Harry couldn't miss how familiar the scene was. Lily shifted the wand into her other hand and closed the area between them, stomping with rage, a silver piece of jewellery bouncing on her chest. Realising the coming too late, Severus received the full force of her slap.

"Sorry.", he mumbled, robbing his cheek and straightened hesitantly.

"Pardon?", Lily moaned quiet, storing her wand in the belt of her long skirt.

"I said, I'm sorry.", she smacked him across the face another time, now with her left hand.

"You _just_ happen to turn up after I thought you dead for more than a year,", she hissed, "And all you can come up with is ` _I'm sorry_ ´?"

"If ye'd lemme explain,", he smirked desperate, "I'd say sum' more."

"Where the hell have you been.", now it was her to rob a part of her body: her left hand with her right, moaning again, but in the moment Harry did, he too spotted what that was a bigger blow for him than her hits. "Well, yes,", she eyed the silvery ring herself, "You saw that right. You're a week too late to contradict."

"A – a week?", Severus blinked and finally straightened.

"Yes, we married last Wednesday."

"Well, congratulations."

"Don't pretend to mean that.", she whimpered. "You might be a good liar, but not to me and you know that. By the way, don't act as if your world's collapsing now. You begged for it."

"Alrigh', if we're already at tha', ye should 'ave a look at tha' an' tell me wha's tha truth.", he said cold with glassy eyes, drew his wand from his own left sleeves and pushed them up.

"No – ", Lily aspirated. "No.", she shook her head, tears coming already. "No! No, Severus _no!_ "

"I'll listen ter _yer_ story, if ye listen ter _mine_.", he silenced her, casting the same protections around them as she had done in the corridor behind the Great Hall. "Wit'ou' 'ittin' me. I know, I deserved tha'; still ye should wai' 'til I'm done. I din' join 'im fer pleasure. I wan' 'im away.", her lips formed the question `What?´ and she wiped off her tears. "I know, it sounds a lil illogical, bu' ye go' ter 'ear tha whole."

Unfortunately, Harry wasn't granted to share her privilege. For the first time in weeks he hated him again. He had done _what?_ Planned it from the beginning? But why then had Dumbledore – why had he not let him know? Harry was back again to hear the end of the song and the tears he hadn't fully seen in the previous scene were now washing the pallid face between the greasy curtains as he had turned to face Luna and held the flask up to her, a golden ring glistening on his right hand. He had obviously wiped some tears away before, but fresh ones had come.

Luna conjured a white string for the flask so she could wear it around her neck. When it disappeared under her clothes, he barely raised his voice.

"If I should be – ", he swallowed, "Gone – before the war is over – give it to Harry. But – _please_ – wait until – he is ready. Otherwise he wouldn't understand the meaning."

"Alright, Sir.", Luna whispered, smiling, and pulled him up when she noticed that he didn't fully manage on his own.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Good night, Professor."

"Yes.", a sigh left him. "Good night, Miss Lovegood."

Harry's eyes followed him striding over to that single backdoor of the hall, weary and aware that it might as much had been the last time he had done that; he made a mental note to ask Luna about it. When the door fell shut, the hall vanished and Harry felt his head rising back into the ancient study.

~~#~~


	60. Chapter 59 - of a Tree

– Chapter 59 –

 **..of a Tree**

Lunch hadn't been too pleasant, but it had been tasty enough to fill their stomachs with something else than horrible knots. The grumpy guests had kept them trapped with stories of long gone hard times until Barney had escorted them out for their own safety. Therefore they had been left no chance to use his Pensieve anyway and Hermione had been forced to think of a place where they could look at the memories securely.

Draco hadn't been too fond of her idea, but she had convinced him with a cosy sofa and absolute privacy. So in the end, after having marvelled about the one or other wall or staircase, they arrived at the sleeping portrait of a chubby woman in a pink dress.

"Oh goodness – ", Hermione giggled up to the high, wide roof, "They repaired my hole already!"

" _Your_ hole?", Draco did the same. "You blasted that thing? Wow."

"Well, some crank chased me with Fiendfyre. I had to deflect it somehow, much to the roof's misfortune."

"Oh. Seems, it'd been a hot night for you then."

"Yes.", Hermione chuckled.

"Wait, you reckon she's got a password yet?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

"Sure. Go for it.", Hermione cleared her throat with a pitched _hem_ , _hem_ that made Draco snort and snicker. "Bitch."

"Thanks.", she grinned. "Didn't wake her, though.", Hermione coughed louder, managing to make the Fat Lady jump form her seat.

"This is not the Ministry, Madam!", she shrieked "You cannot hang me off – oh. _You!_ What by all means are you doing here, frightening me that much! School hasn't started yet – "

"We know. We – erm – we just wondered whether we could – "

"Of course you can, but _he_ can't.", the woman nodded at Draco.

"Oh, I think, he can. He's a teacher now."

"Teacher? Is that so, Malfoy?"

"I've been accepted by the Headmistress, so I guess, I am."

"And what would you be teaching?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts.", Draco said briskly.

"Ah, not that you need that, right? They've been prostrating before you, haven't they?"

" _May we enter?_ ", Hermione demanded.

"Okay, okay!", the Fat Lady grunted and swung aside.

Inside, Hermione immediately went for the sofa and flicked her wand at the window in the alcove by it, as to let in some fresh air. Draco took some moments to examine the mostly red room he had never been to before. By the moment he settled himself at her right, she had already taken the Pensieve from her pouch, making it float in front of her, the memory ready to be poured in.

"What do you think?"

"A bit small."

"I know. We'd have to look at it separated. But I meant the common room, actually."

"Oh. It's smaller than ours, but a lot more homely, if I think about it. What's wrong?"

"Um – I don't know – I – this might contain some information that isn't meant for you – "

"Meaning?"

"How to say that – well, there are some secrets he quite probably didn't tell you. Or do you know what's been in that locket?", she pointed at the piece of silver jewellery that laid on her chest.

"Been? Isn't it still in there?"

"I'm not sure – ", Hermione considered.

"Why don't you take a look then?"

"I – don't really want to – "

"Sure.", Draco nodded into space. "It's been stupid of me to put up that photo for the funeral."

"No. That was a wonderful idea, really."

"You think?", his head zoomed back at her.

"Yes. So you know – "

"Yes, he showed me."

"And you know who – "

"She was? Yes."

"And he – also told you – "

"That the baby's his son? Yes."

"Did he say – "

"No. He never said. But I'm not an idiot. At least not regarding that. They're so similar in ways, it's hard to miss."

"Alright.", Hermione sighed out her relief. "Permission granted."

"Good. Ladies first.", Draco smiled and Hermione emptied the flask.

One last glance at him and she dived her face in.

Fresh snow had fallen and was still falling in the street. She was standing by a bus stop, but when she looked around, she didn't recognise the street. It was a completely different bus stop. It had really been for some fortuity that they had bumped into him. Wrapped in his hooded winter cloak, Severus paced past her, steady in step, focused on his destination and she wondered how he knew where to go, if he hadn't – but then she remembered how they had sent out the falcon to Skeeter.

Not feeling the cold of dusk around them, she tried to keep up. Checking a crossing street before he walked over, he headed for a poor high brick building with dusty windows and even more dusty grey or brown curtains behind some. He took the steps to the rust-red door with grills over the glass and scanned the name tags with his white index finger. Hermione startled as well when he jumped aside. The door had opened. Very old looking, the stooped woman had a hard time pulling her holdall outside.

"May I help you, Madam?", she gasped and clapped her hand on her chest with shock.

"My goodness, don't frighten an old woman!"

"I didn't mean to, sorry. May I?", he offered her his help again.

"If you don't rob me,"

"Not at all. What would I be doing with a Lady's clothes, actually?"

"That's right.", she sighed. "But you don't know nothin' about the youngsters roamin' the streets these days."

"I believe, I know more about those people than you would prefer."

"Is that so? Well, why don't you help me over to the bus stop and be my bodyguard until I hop in?", she presented them with a grin of yellowish false teeth that looked much like their miserable state had been the dentist's fault already.

"It will be my pleasure, Madam."

"Oh drop that excessive courtesy.", she waived when he easily picked up the big bag and offered her his other arm so she wouldn't fall on the black ice beneath the snow. "What a gentleman you are. Unlike those other yobbos around here."

"I used to have a wonderful mother."

"Is that so?", she said again, "Well, I wish I had found the right father for my children. I would have loved to have some. But now I'm old and never got any. A shame."

"I don't know about the father, but yes, maybe. My experiences had been, how to say, questionable?"

"Not too fond of your father, eh?"

"Actually, no. He did his best to spoil our relationship."

"And now you come tellin' me that with his voice?"

"Oh, it is only partly, I think, yes. Why?"

" _Why?_ Wh- because you got exactly his voice, you got!"

"Have I? I can't really remember,"

"Oh definitely you are his son!", she laughed up at him when they reached the bus stop. "You got his nose, dear."

"So it is all about the nose.", Severus huffed, glaring down the street.

"Nothin' wrong with that, nothin' wrong. So, Christmas, eh? Thought you'd give him a try, boy? When have you seen him last?"

"A few days ago."

"Sure. And that's why you thought so, right? But when have you seen him _last_."

"When he nearly killed my mother and left us with nothing.", Severus said dark.

"That's right, boy. He dumped you when you were a child. But I tell you somethin',", she leant closer with her left index finger raised, "He's changed, that man. He's grown a real gentleman as well. Does the shoppin' for me. Helps me up and down the house just like you, when he's at home. I only need to ring his bell and he's ready like a fireman. But I think, he's havin' a visitor up there.", her hand slackened to a loose fist. "Played some loud music. That's probably why he didn't hear me and the lift's broken again, so here I am. I personally hope it's a woman. Hasn't seen any in years. Would do him good, maybe. As long as he doesn't – oh, there's the bus comin'! Now, you charmin' prince, I'll be off for a nice Christmas with my old sister before we both kick the bucket. Personally, if I'm to go heels up, I'd like to do it with a little show and drama. One last adventure. Good luck, boy."

"Thank you, Madam. Merry Christmas."

"To you too, dear, thanks."

He helped her getting the holdall in with the bus driver whom she quickly paid with money she got from her handbag. The driver shut the doors and Severus turned in the other direction, back to the house, all his former determination blown away. He didn't even react on the honking of the car that missed him by about two feet and went straight through Hermione who didn't feel it, but couldn't deny there had been some strange sensation to it. His hand shaking, his finger approached the button, but there was as much an answer as if he hadn't done it at all. So he simply opened the door that gave in to his magic when he reached for the knob.

Hermione followed him up the narrow staircase, one floor, a second floor, a third – on the fifth floor he stooped, checking a plain door on his right, just by the stairs further up. There was no spy hole in the dark wood, nor a letter slot; just a tarnished brass handle, a peeling off sticker with the number fourteen and a small white button next to the handle. Jazz music could be heard from inside. Hermione suppressed a giggle but remembered that she could laugh as much as she wanted, he wouldn't hear her. Hesitating again, he rang the doorbell. Like the woman had said, the music was obviously too loud. He rang it once more, with the same result.

She feared that he would press the tiny thing too fierce and that it got stuck, but he kept ringing it, persisting, for about a minute or two. Finally some other sound could be heard from inside, as though Grawp had turned over a rock, as well as some cursing. Then the lock clicked and a chain was removed.

His cigarette fell the moment the door stood open. Severus made it vanish into thin air with a simple gesture of his hand, only noticed by her. The other man's hazel eyes were as open as the door and his lips stood ajar. It was like seeing an extremely tired, far older, little more than one head taller Harry, with slightly rougher features, different eyes as well as nose and middle brown hair and full beard that partly had turned grey, but seemed a little more red now in the soft light than it had been when she had seen him in real. He also had more muscles, which was not hard to tell due to the dirty, formerly white wife beater shirt he wore above his torn, baggy jeans. Some evenly spread hair grew at least on the visible parts of his chest, a little lighter and redder than on his head, but the pattern was unmistakably like Severus'. That one pushed back his hood; some residual snowflakes falling; revealing his bouffant freshly washed hair.

Tobias blinked at his son for some seconds, and a vein was visibly pulsing at his temple, then he hastily shut the door. Blowing a disappointed sigh, Severus lowered his head and went downstairs. Hermione could hear rumbling. The door swung open so lively, it crashed into the wall. This time he wore a knitted brown vest over the shirt, wrapping himself in it. Hermione noticed that he was barefoot. His toes crouched on the cold stone tiles of the stairwell. That cost her another laugh. It was not only the voice or the nose or the size, or even chest hair, Severus had also inherited his toes. Tobias tried to brush the two inches of hair on his head with fingers that were clearly a hard worker's, but of course failed at taming it. Severus slowly turned back to him, with an almost nostalgic, faint smile.

"Screw i' – ", his father aspirated, Hermione actually finding their voices very similar. "You even go' 'er smile now.", that grew reasonably bigger. "W-wanna – wanna come in?", he pointed over his shoulder with a thumb.

"If ye lemme,", Severus didn't fully lose his smile, but it transformed into an exhausted smirk.

"An' 'er crappy dialec'.", that was rich, Hermione thought – the only distinctive differences were that Tobias had more of a snarling voice, swallowed more Ts; and Ds as she would get to find out; and pronounced the O, A, U and R totally different.

"I could use various different ways to address you, should that conform to your desires of being spoken to."

"Now ge' in, before I change me min',"

Convinced, his son climbed back up and followed him inside. Hermione slipped past them, in the tight, short corridor and into the dark bathroom since the door had been left open. Books and other piles of paper took in half of the corridor and two piles had fallen. That had been what had caused the noise: he had knocked them over. There was a fast, almost silent, deep humming speeding through the entire flat when Severus lightly tapped his wand at the closed door after the lock had clicked.

Having his difficulties again, his father; who didn't seem to have noticed the cast spells; led him into the lighter living room that smelled after cigarettes as well. Embracing the opportunity, Severus picked one of the books he gave an ordering wave so they returned to their piles. Hermione couldn't read the title from where she stood, but Severus shook his head. Whatever that meant, she thought. Maybe she would look at the memory another time, being faster with entering. The book landed on the pile with its front cover down and the saddle against the wall. Either it was coincidence or he had already planned to make her watch the encounter later and she wasn't to find out what the book was about. She was prone to the second.

Yellowed wallpaper embellished the walls in a rather sloppy way and the dark furniture wasn't too much of a contrast. Some more bookshelves stood at them or hung higher up, a moth-eaten couch was turned from the only window that was covered with a once white, half transparent curtain, next to a balcony door which faced a wall outside. The radiator below the window was fulfilling its work to exhaustion. In front of the sofa stood a slightly singed coffee table, carrying a small old wireless radio and a filled ashtray. That made her look closer at the sofa. What she thought had been done my moths, were fag burns. In the window-side corner, she found a flourishing gum tree in a quite familiar pot. It was the only green thing in the room apart from some book bindings though and the only benefiting from the smoke. To her left were two more closed doors, both of them holding ribbed glass. Only one wall was left for her to examine. It was one whole bookshelf, apart from a thin shelf that contained records. Before it, a crooked old table was loaded with a way too familiar gramophone that still played some jazz. Tobias went for it, but Severus prevented him from fully deadening the music.

"Keep it on.", he said quickly.

"Sure?"

"There's nuthin' wrong wit' George Lewis."

"You know 'im?", he nevertheless turned down the volume.

"Course I do."

"Damn. Though' you were all in for wizar' music."

"No' a bi', ter be hones'.", Severus took off his winter cloak and the one underneath and folded them skilfully on his arms. "Maybe sum' stuff, bu' mainly Muggles go' tha better music."

"Me wor's."

"Ever listened ter wizard's stuff?", Tobias needed a little pause when the cloaks shrunk to a size smaller than walnuts and were slipped into a front pocket of Severus' trousers, then continued with a chuckle.

"Twit. Course no'."

"Good choice.", his son sighed.

"You too.", he nodded at his clean slim black robe. "Better than me – _magnificen', splendour dress robes_.", Tobias pointed down his own crappy clothes with another chuckle.

"I wun' tell ye off 'cause ye're makin' yerself comfortable at 'ome,"

"Goo' ta know. So? Wha'cha doin'?"

"I though', I migh' jus' visi' me ol' man fer Christmas – ye smoke?"

"Har' ta tell, eh? Yeah. Starte' a while ago.", Severus curled his lips. "Don'cha look a' me like tha'. Never touch' a glass again since I lef' you an yar Mom."

"Why did ye never try ter come back?"

"I di', I di',", Tobias moaned at a shelf, scratching his neck. "Bu' you know 'er magic. Din' lemme in. Stopp' after a while. How's she doin'?"

"Fine, I s'ppose,", Severus shrugged and looked in the other direction.

"Eh? When've you 'ear' las' from 'er?"

"When she whispered 'er very las' word ter me."

"Er – "

"She's dead."

Hermione could see the last chuckle collapse along with the entire fortress of tension behind those hazel eyes and well-toned body. He blinked heavily, his lips a wee bit parted as Severus' would be when awful awareness began to reach him in a private moment.

"Say – ", Tobias whispered gargling, barely audible over the music. "Say – tha' – say tha' – say tha' again – ", now Severus turned back his head and Hermione got to see the very similar expression.

"She died seventeen years ago.", Severus whispered as well.

Sincerely shattered as if he had just realised that he had overslept an entire life, Tobias wiped a hand over his mouth and staggered for the sofa on which he sank and thick tears already stood in both men's eyes when those in Hermione's were about to be created. Like his son, he still loved the woman he had once met and fallen for, both of them dead for many years now, leaving their love and a son behind in a cold, cruel world. Tobias fully buried his face in his hands, meaning to hide his crying, but the sobbing could be heard and his body was shaking too much for the simple move to cover it up. The rest of the room fell silent. Severus had given the needle a gentle wave of his hand and walked over to the sofa as well.

After all he had done to him as a child, he was still his father. He had beaten him and his mother terribly when drunk; and probably even sometimes when being sober; but it was all forgiven. If it hadn't been over the years, Hermione considered, then it had been then when he had pulled him into his arms, crying silently with him.

Hope was all she had. Hope, that it would end. Hope that she didn't need to watch them cry. It hurt her so much, she waited for a trench to burst open in her heart. But it didn't. Tobias only bared his washed face, his hands gliding down in the embrace and pulling the arm closer to his own chest.

"Why.", he only aspirated. "Why's she – g-gone – "

"I stopped askin' meself many years ago. Kep' tellin' meself tha' there's a reason. There migh' be, bu' it's – I dunno – one's worse than tha other."

"I'm s-sorry, S-Sev'rus."

"I fergive ye. Did tha' long ago too."

"Thanks. Bu' I mean' – I mean' – _too_ – tha' you've – los' ev'rythin' – you know – tha' girl Lily, yar brother, yar – yar mother – "

"Tha's life."

"Tz. Tha's life. Fuck i', tha' stupi' life. Bu' hey, you go' some ligh' lef'."

"I 'ave."

"Screw i' – how'd you manage ta 'ave such a grea' son?", clearly surprised, Severus raised his head from his and they gazed into each other's wet eyes. "Follo'd you secre'ly. Seen you disappear inta nowhere with tha' girl. I've been campin' in tha area for a nigh' an' almos' half a day. Go' ta see 'im in person finally. 'E's def'nitely yars. Seen you boys in tha papers sometimes, bu' I can tell, tha' Harry's yars, an' _how_ 'e is – an' when I saw 'im walkin' I knew. Or's James been tha same?"

"No. 'E's been totally diff'ren'.", Severus smirked.

"There you go."

"When ye say papers, d'ye mean – ?"

"C'mon.", Tobias smiled at last, freed himself from his grip and stood up. "Now c'mon!", he waved his son to the right of the doors and wiped off his tears as he went to open it. "Gotta show you somethin'."

That room behind the door turned out to be a narrow bedroom that held enough space for a bed at the door's right, a nightstand, a wardrobe next to it and a desk straight ahead from the door, under the window. It was already quite dark outside and Tobias turned on the old lamp in the middle of the ceiling before he stepped further in to allow his son admittance. Spotting the wall on the left, he also wiped his tears away in order to better see what amazed him right away then.

The wall was almost entirely covered with articles from various editions of the _Daily_ , _Evening_ and _Sunday Prophet_ , as well as some magazines and as far as Hermione could perceive, they were all about a handful of people. Severus, James, and most of all, Harry. It cost her a laugh when she found articles from the; considering what she was watching; previous year where a certain woman's face had carefully been blackened out with a permanent marker and some _facts_ had been corrected or underlined, mainly dealing with Harry's age or alleged emotions she knew well to have been purely invented, and obviously hadn't been the only one, though she had spent much more time with him. She could also find articles about herself that were in connection with Harry. They were decorated with quite a number of additional question marks. Taking a more thorough look, she noticed that the oldest were in the left upper corner and there was some free space at the bottom for more to come.

"Gonadh – ", Severus chuckled into his hand when he scanned the wall.

"Well, yeah. Tha's me lil Wall Of Fame, son."

Very slow, Severus turned to his father who leant against the desk, right next to a primitive digital clock that also showed the date, pride glistening in his drying eyes. But something caught his attention: it was a huge frame over the nightstand, containing a big photo on a page of the _Daily Prophet_ of two smiling young adults who had troubles holding some trophies and documents each, Dumbledore and the Minister she had seen at Severus' last practical NEWT stood behind them and at their respective sides; utterly proud; McGonagall and Slughorn. Severus took his time to read the articles framed along with it.

 _Couple strikes the Examination Committee_

 _The information that this mysterious though charming young pair is not only one in stunning achievement but hearts as well, reached our interviewer only when questioning them personally. This year,_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _loses two excellent, ambitious students to the world outside._ Miss Lily Evans _from Gryffindor and_ Mr Severus Snape _from Slytherin graduated in no less than nine N.E.W.T.s, all off them accomplished with the highest mark of an Outstanding. In addition, each their Thesis has moved many people at their presentation, positively and negatively as well. Their exceeding proficiency has been awarded with nothing other than the_ _eminently respectable_ Barnabus Finkley Prize _and the_ Phineas Bourne Award, _as well as various numbers of accomplishment prizes given by the school's administration itself for their work throughout their education_.

 _Read the interview held by Betty Braithwaite along with authorized excerpts from their Theses on pages thirteen and fourteen._

Hermione skipped over to the interview, showing another photo of them, this time grinning from behind a pile of spellbooks each of them carried.

 _Peace IN war – when the young generation becomes our only hope_

Interview by _Betty Braithwaite_

 _As dealt with on the front page, our tragically decimating society looks up to two bright lights that just came shining from Hogwarts. The eighteen year old graduands radiate happiness in its pure forms. It appears only natural that one of them wrote about this matter in never seen ways. The other shows courage of a true Gryffindor by outing as a proud Muggle-Born in a time such are hunted down by Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters._

 **Betty Braithwaite:**

 _ **It is an absolute pleasure to be meeting you two in person. But I spare you the compliments, you must have had enough of them already. Ladies first, I would say then, Miss Evans. Why don't you tell our readers a bit about yourself?**_

 _Lily Evans:_

 _Well, I've grown up in a quite large town with my older sister and parents. They are all Muggles as you know, and therefore were even more excited than me when I got my letter from Hogwarts. Not my sister though, but that's a different topic._

 _ **So you would say, you don't have a good relation to your sister?**_

 _Not really. (smirks) We're very different in almost all matters. But I learned to live with that. What else could I do._

 _ **All right. Would you say, studying that much was rather easy for you?**_

 _I loved it! Okay, at times it was getting a little hard, but as long as you keep your nose up high and believe in what you want, you can achieve everything you are striving for._

 _ **Can you summarise your Thesis a little? You named it `**_ **Clash of Familiar Worlds** _ **´.**_

 _It is, isn't it? We live alongside every day, Muggles not seeing the Witches and Wizards and those capable of magic tend to ignore those who aren't. Of course that is due to (she indeed is very courageous, saying his name) meaning to sort us, but that should encourage us more to live_ together _, not just side by side, divided by invisible walls. I'm not saying that all Muggles should know about our world; that has led to grand catastrophes throughout history, we all know that; I mean us becoming aware that we have to keep them safe from the dangers in our own rows. I understand that the first to save is mostly the own neck so as to still be able to save others, but we have to decide better who is worth living. We are all human, carrying the gene or not. Even in times like the current; or especially in such; we have to stick together and care for one another, no matter where we come from. If you don't give a damn about others, those others won't give a damn about you. No one can really be happy this way, can they?_

 _ **Now that leads us right on to `**_ **Don't just smile** _ **´ by our young Sir here. You have chosen quite a topic as well: `The origin and strength of happiness regarding the capability of a mind and its influence on the Patronus Charm´. Would you mind enlightening our readers as well, first of course, about yourself?**_

 _Severus Snape:_

First of all _, good afternoon, Madam Braithwaite._

 _ **A man of manners, excellent. A wonderful afternoon to you as well.**_

 _Thank you. If it is your topmost desire to hear about my background, I can provide you only that much: I have grown up an alley down Lily's place, half of my youth alone with my dear mother. The rest is up to your imagination._

 _ **Any siblings?**_

 _I thought, I was making my point clear, but it seems, I was heavily mistaken._

 _ **Ah, I understand. What is happiness to you?**_

 _Happiness is very varied, as all other aspects of life, and it is individual. I will not dive further in my very personal ideas of happiness as you might fail to understand once again, (exchanges a brief smile with his colleague) but I can tell you the world is a two-sided coin, not nearly as round as anyone wishes it to be. We all play our part in that game of life and it is evident fact that no living being can exist without some extent of happiness, however defined it may be._

 _ **You particularly like to play with words?**_

 _Certainly. But that is not the topic, as I believe? If so, I must have been wrong myself about the reason I was told to be here for, or someone considered themselves hilarious by tricking me into a different show._

 _ **Oh of course not. We are all honest here.**_

 _That pleases me, for the time being. Keep in mind though, that I might know, should you be lying._

 _ **Now that's one scary look! Never mind. You stated in one part of your Thesis that happiness and a mind's strength could even be seen as equals. What exactly do you mean by that?**_

 _It appears logical, does it not? If a mind is not strong enough to find itself some happiness, that happiness can never grow at all. A mind that is never confronted with something comforting as for example self-defined happiness, cannot exist for long. Touché, death._

 _ **And how does that connect to the Patronus Charm?**_

 _We are all part of a highly connected universe, even if we might be unable to perceive it. Everything is connected._

 _ **That doesn't really answer –**_

 _Well of course it doesn't, for you. I didn't expect you to grasp this simple complexity. Brilliant people, Wizards and Muggles alike, have wasted decades of their precious lives on the cause and came to the only conclusion that they were incapable of comprehension for such higher logic. There is, as I understand it, a room in the Department of Mysteries in our own British Ministry of Magic where Unspeakable devote explicitly to the fascination of happiness. Justifiably, I wouldn't have been granted entry, but I anyway never meant to be having a tea party with those fools in there, who devote to something as fragile behind locked doors, while it lives and acts outside their narrow cosmos. Studying a being bred in a cage will never bring you understanding of one in the wild._

 _ **So the Patronus Charm –**_

 _I was sure you would be gnawing on that one, but shall you. What is it that you ask me to explain?_

 _ **How does it work in your opinion? You say, a Patronus itself does not purely rely on the happy happiness. What do you mean by that and what then does it rely on?**_

 _As far as I am concerned, I have written an entire chapter on the variety of happiness?_

 _ **Indeed.**_

 _What I mean by `happy´ happiness is a momentary state of being; the present feeling of joy. When encountering a Dementor, they would strive first to suck that feeling from their victim, which eventually leads to their success in nearly all cases, according to each individual mind's weakness. But happiness is not joy alone. Happiness, when it is honest and true, sits as deep in a soul as every other strong emotion. Should perfunctory sentiments be knocked out, a strong mind can dig further in and shield its shell with the very core of the emotion. That is mostly when we get to discover whether a person can conjure a real, full corporeal Patronus or not, and if it so happens in a situation of high life threat, we can speak of a powerful mind, heart and soul; which always go along with one another in some way._

 _ **Corporeal Patronuses – there are said to be various special forms and; I am ashamed to admit that I haven't been present myself; you, Miss Evans, gave your audience a striking example of a Twin-Patronus?**_

 _L. Evans:_

 _That is correct._

 _ **Wow. Do you know exactly what causes them to appear and if, can you give an example and probably tell how you discovered your ability?**_

 _Both:_

 _That is private._

 _ **But that won't bring our readers on.**_

 _S. Snape:_

 _If the_ Prophet _is to release parts of my Thesis in exactly the way I asked for, your readers will find the information on causes there. I hardly reckon the – ah –_ average _reader will understand it right away, but I never give up hope for the world to develop some discernment, and might it just be enough for differing love from admiration._

 _ **Which would be?**_

 _L. Evans:_

 _Immensely huge. An admiration or affection has got nothing to do with the deep care of an actually loving heart._

 _[…](Mrs Braithwaite later confesses to have been taken aback by the tenderness the couple's fingers had laid around one another's.)_

 _ **It seems to be true that love doesn't judge? You two were put into openly rivalling Houses, but your friendship developed to such love? Due to it or –**_

 _S. Snape:_

 _Yes, yes, that is up to interpretation, and no. What is between us, never cared for the colour of our uniform ties._

 _L. Evans:_

 _It was actually great fun studying people's reactions. It's been seven years since we entered Hogwarts, but they still didn't get hold of certain facts about life in its basics._

 _S. Snape: It surprised me each time I met with any of these narrow minded wrecks that not even years of witnessing could stimulate the slightest growth of wisdom. The grandest lack mankind has managed to develop so far._

 _ **You are rather unusual, Mr Snape.**_

 _S. Snape:_

 _If it is you to say,_

 _ **Well, however, as a defender of unity, Miss Evans, would you say, god or some other higher power meant you to be put into different Houses for teaching everyone that such didn't matter?**_

 _S. Snape:_

 _Oh, they do matter. They are a kind of family and they matter just as much as any family. It is only up to each person in specific as to how much given by this family they decide to use for their personal development._

 _L. Evans:_

 _That's right. And, maybe? Maybe not? I think there is a reason in everything that happens. If we don't see it, we are just not able or ready yet to look close enough or think less biased._

 _ **Thank you for your time.**_

As if he had known how long it would have taken her to read it, he raised his voice right there, leaving her no chance to go through the excerpts.

"I never read tha'.", Severus chuckled. "Lily wanted me ter, bu' I refused. Fergo' 'ow caustic I've been. Oh well, people still say I am,"

"Can' see where tha' migh' come from.", Tobias smirked and it was like looking at Harry doing that. "Oh me – ", he murmured, having remembered something. "I'm such an idio'. You'd like somethin'? Ta drink, I mean? Or – ea'? I don' 'ave much, bu' I – "

"I'm fine,", said Severus and stepped a little closer to him.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"So – er – "

He clearly pointed up to a small article; easily to be overseen; that cited him as successor of Slughorn. The years had obviously made people forget about his achievements in school.

"Teacher?", Severus nodded. "Still? Ruddy! Goo' job, eh? Gotta be prou' then, don' I? Risk free. Ligh' work. Well-pai'."

"Wouldn' say ligh' or risk free when yer studen's tend ter nearly blow ye up ev'ry lesson, bu' yes, go' a nice salary."

"Teachin' yar son?"

"Yes.", he nodded again.

"'Is classmates mus' be jealous, no' bein' allowed ta call you `Dad´."

"Oh, 'e doesn' either.", Severus said languidly with a half smile.

"Makin' 'im call you `Sir´?", Tobias laughed.

"'E doesn' know I'm 'is father.", and that bright laugh was killed within seconds. "It's a lil complicated, ye know; 'e's better off thinkin' both 'is paren's are dead. Saves 'im a lo' o' trouble."

"An' – an' you?", Tobias moaned.

"I arranged it tha' way. Would be too dangerous fer 'im ter know."

"Wha'cha mean?"

He nodded up to the article again. Hermione saw that the previous dealt with his trial, but only stated that he had been cleared of all charges. There was a question mark on a free space there as well. Severus gave it an erasing flick with two fingers.

"Guess, 'ey'd tortured Skeeter too. Otherwise she'd 'ave boasted 'bou' it. Bu' on tha other 'and, she's fled from me trial after ten minutes. Migh' no' 'ave wanted ter ge' 'erself in trouble reportin' tha'."

"Don' say, they – ?"

Tobias' eyebrows narrowed and Severus unbuttoned his robe and shirt and turned around. When he slipped the clothes down to his waist, Tobias' hand clapped on his mouth and he sought in a shocked breath through his nose. Severus however presented the bed with sad anger before he restored his appearance and turned back to him.

"Tha's no' – ", he shook his head, mumbling through his hand. "You're no' – ", but Severus unbuttoned his left sleeves now and pushed them up, causing his father to gasp and swallow again. "An' now?", Tobias moaned quietly after having lowered his hand, yet squeezing himself closer to the desk. "Wha'cha goin' ta do now?"

"Now?", Severus frowned lazily. "Christmas dinner?", he paused, "I go' – ", and opened the upper buttons of his robe again for pulling his pouch from which he took a knotted plastic bag that held some ice cubes and two salmons. "I know it's no' traditional fer Christmas, bu' it's no normal Christmas anyway, is it? Or d'ye think I'd turn up at me ol' man's fer Christmas empty-'anded?"

"You're no' – you're no' goin' ter – ter poison me, are you?"

"Wha'?", Severus chuckled. "No! No, I mean, I tested 'em on various germs an' viruses, so – I dun' expec' 'em ter kill us,"

"You – "

"Din' ye like salmon?"

"I – I di'! Bu' – you're – you're a – you're one of 'is – "

"No' _one of_ , I'm _tha_ bigges' nigh'mare o' tha Dark Lor'."

Everything became black fog. When Hermione could see again, she knew she hadn't been granted to watch them prepare the meal or even have it. Instead she found them sitting at the enlarged living room table, the ashtray gone, a bowl of salad and one of vegetables emptied and only bones left of the salmons. In between them stood a thin white candle, half burnt down. The gramophone played some quiet Christmas Gospel and they had decorated the gum tree with silver and golden balls and tinsel. Seeing them eating baked apple and pumpkin ice cream with delight, made her smile. Such a scene was all she had hoped for. They finally were nothing but father and son and she could see that not a thing of it was played.

"You din' tell me abou' tha' girl."

"Girl?", asked Severus.

"Tha' 'Ermione Granger. You brough' ta tha' safe 'ouse. Recognise' 'er from tha papers."

"An'?"

"You brough' 'er there person'lly,"

"'T's been some complicated circumstances.", he replied casually.

"You can' fool me, Sev'rus. I migh' be a gimp in ways, bu' I'm still yar father. You like 'er?"

"I do,"

"An' now tha truth? C'mon, I can see you blushin',", Severus indeed did on the sneer, if only a little. "You like 'er much."

"Sto' grinnin' at me, Dad.", Severus grumbled.

"Now say i', boy.", he grinned on though. "You'd like ta 'ave 'er?"

"T's a lil bi' less perverted.", a sigh escaped him and he finished off the last bits of his apple quite forcefully; it was then that Tobias' grin became a soft smirk.

"You love 'er Hermione was certain Severus would change the topic, but after some seconds of hesitation, he answered seriously.

"Sum'thin' like tha', I think,"

"An' she?", on that, he shrugged.

"Per'aps?", there was another long pause, but eventually both couldn't hold back an amused snort that came so simultaneously and similar their relation couldn't have been less clear.

"Tol' 'er?", but Severus just curled his lips, heavily flushed and searched desperately for something else to look at than his father's eyes, which he found in the glistening gum tree. "Nah! An'?", the excitement was back.

"Dun' think she understoo'.", Severus shrugged again and smirked to his smeared plate. "Said it in Russian.", she had almost forgotten that this had happened two and a half years ago.

"You're awful."

"I know. Ye din' tell me 'ow come ye ge' tha _Prophe_ '.", her expected change had arrived.

"From me frien' Barney. 'E's runnin' tha Blin' Beggar down tha stree'. Goo' mate. Promise' me ta 'elp me fin' a new job.", Severus finally looked up.

"Ye los' yer job?", Hermione could see a very prejudiced glitter in Severus' eyes and, by the look of his father, wasn't the only one.

"Jus' las' week.", Tobias sighed. "Din' turn up, so they sack'd me, those dum'asses. Before Christmas! Tol' 'em I wan'ed ta see me gran'son, bu' you can imagine tha reaction.", Severus nodded sadly, but he carried on. "Nobody knows I go' another son; or as it's actually; _you_ go' a son. An' wha' ta tell 'em? Tha' I spied on 'Arry Potter? They'd 've said `'Arry _who_?´ an' kick'd me ou' neverth'less.", he growled and startled when Severus had gently taken his hand.

"I could 'ave a word wit' 'em,"

"No.", suddenly there was panic in Tobias' face and voice.

"They'd no' even know they'd fired ye,"

"Never min', son. Din' like tha' job anyway.", he coughed and scratched his neck with his free hand.

"Dad,", Severus warned but was waived.

"Really. I'll fin' somethin' better after Christmas. Some par' o' tha' strange life's generous anyway. I'd gone two years ago already if i' 'adn' been for some strange fortune."

Suddenly blackness swallowed the scene and she was back in the bedroom. Soft grey light fell through the window and thick snowflakes danced outside. The clock on the desk told her that it was quarter to eight o'clock in the morning on the twenty-eighth of December. A sound caught her ear and when she recognised it, her insides crumpled. Swallowing and unwilling to turn, she nevertheless took her eyes off the clock. Severus sat on the bed, in pyjamas, and his father was asleep, his lips ajar. But seeing him holding the slack hand that stuck out of the messed blanket as well and burying his face in the other that supported his head on his thigh, she didn't need hearing him cry or watch his body shake to know what had actually happened.

Biting her own lips, Hermione couldn't hold back tears either, that shot to her eyes. And though she had heard the news before, though she had known what she would be watching, by the pain that erupted in her chest, she knew that she _had_ to go looking for her parents, as soon as she could. She felt so much guilt in that moment, about never having asked him – how he could – possibly –

Another sound distracted her. Someone had opened the front door and closed it behind. Careful footsteps drew near, eventually finding the open bedroom door. His wand in hand, wearing a snow-covered black winter coat over a black suit and a fur cap on his silvery waves, the familiar man searched the room with interest, at last finding the other two on the bed.

"Severus, my friend! What is this place? Why did you want me to – Severus?", it had taken him quite a while to realise what was going on, Hermione thought, when he aspirated in Russian for some moments, walked over and knelt down on the floor in front of him. "Severus?", Igor moaned quietly with his wand back in his sleeve, trying to pull away his friend's supporting arm. "Is he – ?", Severus only whimpered. "Oh goodness – come here.", he had some trouble pulling the seesawing Severus in his arms, but when he managed to; now kneeling between his spread legs; he placed a calming kiss on the black head he rested his cheek on then. "Let go of him.", Igor said softly; she had never heard him speak so calm – and calming, but Severus shook his head with a gut-wrenching, muffled cry into his shoulder. "Sh. Let go. He is with your mother now. You cannot help him anymore. Let her do that. Let go, Severus.", he only clutched the hand even tighter. "Severus? Who is – ?"

Hermione had heard the sound as well that had made him raise his head. Someone else had come through the door and the clanking told her instantly who the second newcomer was. The famous bowler hat sat askew to hide his magical eye and he wore a black suit too, over which he had thrown a black travelling cloak that had been landing field to some snow flakes, just like the hat. She quickly stepped around to see both men's faces when they were confronted with one another. They were slightly confused, but mostly shocked and a little angry even.

"You!", they growled at once, but Severus had lifted his head and calmed them muttering.

"'T's – righ'. I called – you both. We're all – on the same – side, Alastor."

"I highly doubt that, boy, but you always had strange reasons for things you never told anyone.", Mad-Eye chuckled hollow. "Get him up there, Karkaroff. They'll soon notice something's missing."

"Missing?"

"And I'm parking on the pavement."

"You got it?", Severus finally let go of his father's hand and wiped off his tears with the back of his own.

"Sure I got it."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Not yet."

"Good.", he signified Igor that he could stand up on his own. "How much time do you think we have?"

"Not much. I've had a quick glance on the bus stop. There'll be one coming in ten minutes. You want him out right then?"

"Think so.", Severus now withdrew his clothes from the previous day plus a fresh pair of socks and underpants from his pouch and changed quicker than she had ever seen him do, but with an odd precision. "Where have you stolen it?", he asked.

"Up in Bethnal Green Road, only a two minutes drive from here. They've got their own parking area right behind the church."

"Any place for Disapparating there?", he closed the last buttons of his sleeves and picked his wand from the nightstand.

"A narrow rubbish dump behind a wall, just between."

"Wonderful. We bring him there; you take the watch, Alastor, we two carry him invisible."

"Damn it, boy. Your father died and you've got nothing better to do than being a scheming scoundrel. No wonder that bugger of a self-proclaimed king trusts you.", Severus escaped an exhausted chuckle on that and he checked the clock.

"Five minutes to go.", he noted. "Have you got the plastic sack I asked for?"

"I have it here.", Igor pulled it from one of his front pockets and watched Severus enlarge it on the floor after he had enchanted it with some quiet muttering of Latin words she remembered well. "What are you – "

"Packing.", Severus sighed.

It was quite impressive to see the articles pile up while they floated down, and sorted themselves into numbers of empty folders that had come from opening drawers of the desk. Those folders, along with some that must contain documents, settled down in the sack and disappeared into an apparent nowhere. Next was the huge frame on the wall, all clothes from the wardrobe, the clock on the desk, the curtains and; Mad-Eye had to hop aside; several books from the living room and corridor, followed by some dishes, glasses, cutlery, food, drinks, the empty crystal ashtray, toilet utensils, towels, all records, the gramophone including its table, the wireless radio; which he gave a flick in between for a dumbfounded Mad-Eye to catch it; more curtains and last but not least, the still decorated gum tree in its pot.

The plastic sack shrunk, knotted and lifted itself and was caught before it then went into his pouch that he smoothly slipped under his clothes. Those buttoned up at last, he pulled a silver ring from a toe of his, stuck it on his right ring finger and finally put on his black socks and clean black shoes.

If any of them; Hermione implied; had been a little faint hearted, they might have left him with confusion on the oddity of his action. But the two men just stared at one another while Severus bound his laces manually, Hermione's eyes travelling between them, ignoring the voice in her head trying to tell her that he would still be wearing a ring on the same toe long after that Christmas, but of a different colour.

"We'll be needing a stretcher.", he said almost composed after he had straightened, doing with his eyes what Hermione's did.

Still thunderstruck, Igor raised his richly ornamented reddish wand and the bulb unscrewed itself, stopping floating between them as a perfect stretcher. Mad-Eye meanwhile lifted the wireless radio up to his face, studying it like a little child.

"Didn't you frequently tell me you want one?", Severus grumbled while Igor helped him heaving his father onto the stretcher, carefully wrapped in the blanket.

"Yes – I – I did – "

"Well, Merry Christmas.", he sighed, close to tears again.

"Thanks. Er – right – let's – let's get going then,"

This time she was faster and hurried outside before they did. By that she could witness a phenomenon of memory watching: instead of the front door, there was just black fog in the corridor that slowly formed from it when they started walking. Indeed none of the books were left. Throwing back a weary glance, she left the empty flat once the door had sprung open.

"It doesn't work.", Severus noted when Mad-Eye approached the lift, but he pressed the call button and the doors slid open.

"Did you think, I came walking all the way up here? I know people call me mad, but I'm not insane.", holding his wand out, he took the stretcher from Igor and levitated it inside, where he at last covered the dead man's head with the blanket. "See you downstairs."

Again everything was just fog, but this time it was grey and she could see the floors rushing by. She was flying with them to the ground floor where they landed gently the moment the lift doors opened and Igor actually took two of the handles. Mad-Eye transformed the other two into a single bar so he could carry it better. Severus, having thrown over the hood of his winter cloak, opened the front door for them and stepped into the cold air she still couldn't feel. Not daring to consider how macabre it was, Hermione ran through the stretcher to join him.

A double-decker rushed by when they brought him down the last stairs, towards a van that stood on the pavement just like Mad-Eye had said and she could see a familiar figure coming in the distance, pulling a holdall and carrying a big handbag on the other shoulder. When he opened the boot lid of the black mortuary van for them, thick tears were trailing down from Severus' swollen eyes once more and they met the old woman's who stopped her stunningly fast shuffling down at the corner.

Having fixed the stretcher, Igor crawled back out and offered Severus a hand, which he took gratefully. Hermione hopped in as well and Mad-Eye closed the lid. She couldn't fully see him limping around the car due to the closed black curtains, but he entered it on the offside and slammed the door shut with such force, both Severus and Igor jumped. He secured his walking stick by the gear lever, tapped his wand at the fascia and the engine sprung to life.

Only needing to accelerate, brake and steer, he drove the van over the pavement until he turned it sharply at a narrow free parking lot shortly before a fence. By then, Severus was leaning against Igor who held him tight again and stroked his head he had freed from the thick hood. Severus' eyes were wide open and Hermione knew that only now, he started to realise what had really happened.

Probably to cheer him up, Igor started singing a quiet song. He had a quite good singing voice, but his attempt of Gaelic didn't fully work as she could tell by the annoyed look that drifted into Severus' face. The Russian words he murmured at him weren't too difficult for her to understand. They meant as much as ` _shut up if you don't want me to kill you with your own eyelashes_ ´. That only made him skip to a rather lively Russian song in minor key in mid sentence she knew from somewhere, but couldn't remember at the moment from where. Mad-Eye joined in, though with rather pathetic pronunciation, as well as being much less a nightingale.

"Shut up,", but Igor pulled the lines into clangorous chant, making Mad-Eye guffaw and Severus roll his eyes, huffing madly. "Shu' – ", he continued louder, "Will ye – ", he squirmed free of his arms, pressed up his jaw and locked his lips with his fingers in addition, however Igor sang on inside with a big grin on his freckled cheeks.

"Calm yourselves, guys. We're here."

Mad-Eye drove the car into a deserted alley and past a high church. At the back end he turned it right and parked it by the previously described wall. Igor had calmed with a last chuckle and smirk and slightly patted on Severus' head before he pushed the hood back over and straightened his own cap. The lid was opened for them and she found them – half invisible. Looking down on her own hands, it astonished her to see that even she was in that state though she was only watching them get Tobias out, without the stretcher though. They fought a silent battle of looks about who would carry him, which Igor won with a definite stare. Mad-Eye merely rolled his normal eye and she was sure the other did something completely different under the hat's shadow.

"Are you done with it?", he mumbled when he gave the lid a closing flick and locked the van, then leading them back into the alley and through a paled gate that connected the brick wall to the church.

It grated open for them and Severus linked arms with Igor, beside a number of wheelie bins. Rattling, the chain slid into its former position when the door closed and Mad-Eye took Severus' free arm, the invisibility devolving upon him.

"Where?", asked Igor.

"You know where.", Severus answered whacked and a second of darkness later they appeared silently and visible again under an old tree, surrounded by snow covered graves.

Nobody was outside. After his necessary security check, Mad-Eye gave them a nod and they let go. Igor went ahead. Taking a look around, Hermione gasped. She had been to that graveyard before, only a day and some hours in difference, two years in future to what she watched now. Not noticing the sorrowful look that distorted her face, she followed the little procession around the church. Everything was white; even the sky had a very light shade of grey; and thick snow swayed down on them as they pulled a track through the untouched ground.

Rolled in but growing with every breath, some sort of creature began to fill her stomach constantly as she realised in which direction they were going. Mad-Eye laid his free arm around Severus' back. That and the slow pace made him limp a little less, but she could feel the being inside her shrink slightly. Though instead, a smaller one was born in her throat, doing the same and by the moment they arrived at the marble gravestone, her mouth stood widely open so as to breathe. But she could hardly do so. As if she cried the very same tears Severus did, wiping them away was no use to her eyesight.

With a quiet snap, a snow covered slab slid aside. It had laid on the grave left to what she had looked at. Severus had broken away and walked around Igor to pull a lifeless hand from beneath the blanket. On the little finger, he slowly pushed the ring he had carried until then, being a smaller twin to the ring on the finger next to it. His trembling hands didn't make it easy for him, but he tucked the arm back in, pulled down the blanket just enough to bare his fathers head that was lying against the shoulder above Igor's strong arms and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Crying silently, he nestled his face to his father's, something Hermione comprised he might have never done when he had still been alive. But then again, he may have done so, during those late days they had spent together.

Gentle but firm, Mad-Eye pulled him close and his knees gave in, the moment Igor knelt down and levitated Tobias into the grave none other but him dared to look inside. It was then that Hermione saw the names and dates carved into the grey Runic cross. They were in Gaelic runes, but she could read them, ashamed that she hadn't deigned the cross a look at her actual visit. On top, there were some members of the Dunnahars, including the famous sisters, further down a number of Peverells, then came the name Prince. Last in the row, Eileen Amalia. Hermione bit into her fist, trying to cry as silent as Severus did. It didn't matter that no one could hear her. She didn't want to disturb the peace of the dead.

Hands folded, Igor lowered his head and the slab slid over the grave again, coming to rest as though nothing had happened. Severus pulled his wand and directed it onto the cross. To steady his terribly shaking hand, Mad-Eye wrapped his own around it and Severus wrote in the air. Simultaneously, runes appeared on the ancient stone below Eileen's name and dates. Their meaning was as simple.

 _Tobias Franklin Snape, born 27 April 1937, died 28 December 1995_

He closed the list; either knowingly or in hope; with a long sentence:

 _Our Hearts beat as one ever on, 'cross Time's rivers of agony_

 _and when the road hath reach'd its ending and we there meet our Master,_

 _unit'd forever we shall be, and block the well to stop the rivers' flow_

"There's – ", Severus inhaled deeply and swallowed down the creature, "A certain Barney we've go' ter visi'. Dad would've wanted ter say goodbye ter 'im."

Two more tears fell from ebony pearls into the rivers and Hermione was pulled back through blackness, facing an empty fireplace behind a shining bowl, all that could have been there, washed from her eyes. She didn't hear Draco clap his book shut or see him gaze at her. She didn't even notice his hand that found its way onto her back just like Mad-Eye's had had on Severus', two and a half years ago. There was only emptiness. A hole as deep as a grave, where a mother, a brother, a father, a life's eternal true love and every single friend had fallen in, never to come back again, not until the last would finally meet their Master. _I have a job to do_ , she heard that distant voice – and finally understood. It would still not be easy to accept, but she understood at last, somehow.

~~#~~


	61. Chapter 60 - The path we chose

– Chapter 60 –

 **The path we chose**

Having returned to the quiet room was no better than standing in the records of the past. It took him some moments to compose himself so he was at all able to retrieve the memories from the bowl and put them back into the phial. Once stoppered again, he studied the peaceful wafting, slightly glowing matter. There was only one way to find out. With a deep sigh, Harry turned and slouched over to the desk. The portrait's head still rested on its right hand, breathing absolutely calm.

"I wondered – ", Harry whispered, "Whether portraits have all the knowledge of the person at the moment they were created."

"Certainly, we do.", said Dumbledore softly, but didn't change his position.

"And – do you have a – a _proper_ memory?"

"If you refer to remembering like a living being, yes, we have a proper memory."

"Alright.", Harry hesitated, his gaze directed towards the still Sorting Hat on his shelf. "Has he ever said – has he told you that he just joined Voldemort – with the intention – to bring him down?"

"We might have a memory and be able to perform magic to some extent, Harry,", Dumbledore sighed, his blue eyes free for him to see now, "But it does not mean, we are fully capable of what our model had been. Even if I wanted, I could not use Legilimency against you. You will have to tell me whom you are talking about."

"Professor Snape.", he said curtly and found Dumbledore's kind smile frozen to unease. "So he hasn't?"

"What makes you believe he did so?", Dumbledore blinked over his half-moon spectacles and slightly raised from his arm.

"Well,", Harry lifted the flask for him, "That's what he told my mother."

"Ah well, he may have told Lily, but having knowledge of his feelings for her, I must admit, he might just have said that to prevent her from suicide.", Harry didn't miss the scarce panicking undertone.

"Not really. He was actually very keen on the truth in that conversation and I don't think that was played. He knew it was senseless to lie to her because she had a talent for looking beyond his mask. She confirmed that."

"And what exactly did he state about joining Voldemort?"

"He said that he hadn't joined him ` _for pleasure_ ´ but because he ` _wanted him away_ ´.", for Harry, there was definitely some peculiar sensation to the discomfort in Dumbledore's expression.

"When did he state that?"

"Oh I don't know,", he said casually, "They'd seen each other for the first time after he'd been gone missing for more than a year. She'd married a week earlier. Maybe you know a date and can tell _me_ when it was,", Dumbledore wiped his right hand over his mouth, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Are you sure about that?", he muttered through his all intact fingers.

"If you _could_ climb down, I'd probably show you.", Harry waved with the crystal vessel again when Dumbledore took off his glasses with the other hand and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure, Harry?", there was no possibility the old man could hide the horror that stood in his face now and something dawned on Harry. "That he said the truth?", Dumbledore partly ran his fingers through his hairline, leaving the silvery white strands in a mess while he gazed at some bookshelves.

"Positive. He meant that.", Harry said, becoming a bit upset. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"I – ", Dumbledore just aspirated, tears damming up in his formerly clear blue eyes. "I – god – oh – _god_ – "

"I have spent a year with this man as well, Albus.", Phineas noted. "Telling from what I have gotten to see, you cannot ignore that we both know Potter's got the right to hear what has been troubling you for so many years. He has the right to get to know what happened in that courtroom."

"No – ", Dumbledore shook his head, but Harry already knew where this was going.

"What is he talking about?", he said angrily. "Does this have to do with the scars on Professor Snape's back?", some hair slid over his face when he started crying into his hand, but Harry couldn't feel less sympathy. "Have they tortured _some regret_ out of him?", crying bitterly, Dumbledore refused to answer. "Have you watched it?", Harry continued, the words obviously being worse to what had been included of a soul into the painting than the edges of that mirror shard in Harry's pouch. "Have you _ordered_ it?", he could hear Dumbledore muttering something about stopping, but Harry had not the slightest urge to ease him. "What did you tell them? To show no mercy? Did you give him the same face you gave him on that hill when he begged you for bringing my mother into hiding? Did you drag him into the Ministry and have him tortured? Or did you even do it yourself?", Dumbledore shook his head, crying noisily. "Right, but you ordered it, didn't you? You don't need to say. I know.", Harry hissed. "It's been all _for the greater good_ , hasn't it?"

"H-Harry – please – ", by that moment, half of the portraits had left their frames in the office; Phineas Nigellus raised to go as well.

"You watched them torture the living daylight out of him, didn't you? _Didn't you?_ Just like you let Voldemort kill my mother even though he pleaded on his knees for saving her, in hope she would crush Voldemort by trying to save me? Well, guess, it worked! But you knew that from the beginning, didn't you? _Isn't it so?_ ", the door behind him opened, though he ignored it. "But guess again, it doesn't bring back my parents! They're _dead_! Dead because you preferred to cross your fingers!", Harry spat.

"What by – ", a woman's voice moaned, though Harry still didn't care.

"LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME WHAT YOU DID! TELL ME HOW YOU SAT IN THAT COURTROOM, WITH YOUR _FINGERS CROSSED_ , AND WATCHED THEM TORTURE HIM UNTIL HE BROKE, IN YOUR OPINION!", Dumbledore still shook his head into his hand like a child. "BECAUSE HE DIDN'T BREAK! HE KEPT RESISTENT _UNTIL,_ _THE,_ _END!_ He's fooled everyone, including you, old man."

Harry panted heavy, purposely calming, but not able to get rid of his fury, which still reflected in his tone and he felt some pressure by his temple, but decided to not bother it. The indirect confession was too much for him.

"He's been fooling everyone, doing his own thing all the time. Well, everyone but my mother, but that's not the point. You'd been hoodwinked by him just like everybody else and you didn't even realise by the time _you_ begged him to kill you. You asked him for quite a big favour there, compared to what you refused to do for him. Took everything for granted. _All, the, time_. Let me tell you something, Dumbledore. He hasn't even watched me on _your_ behalf, no. Want to know why he really did it? Why the first person I actually liked in my life was a ` _postman_ ´? Because he cared for me!"

"Harry – "

"Not only for my mother, but for _me_ as well. Want to know why?", Dumbledore kept crying and shaking his head. "No? But I tell you. Because he knew that Lily Evans wouldn't have married James Potter if _he_ hadn't disappeared for a year. Because _he_ knew that she'd loved him probably as much as he'd loved her. But of course you didn't see it. No one saw it, apart from them. They've been too good at keeping secrets. Even under your nose, you oh so wise man. Even under _your_ nose. And you sacrificed them for your own profit. Yeah, maybe it helped the world, eventually, but it just doesn't work out like that. Your brother told me an hour ago that you never were much into chess, and I think he's right. You meant to play chess but didn't know the rules. You forgot one of your pieces and that piece knew much better how to play. You forgot the queen. Let the pawns play, sent them into battle and sacrificed them so the queen could check the king for the bishop to get him down. But you forgot that the queen has all rights. You were too fixated on the whole that you forgot the most basic rule of considering every single step in chess."

"Harry – I – "

"I am not done yet!", he said lividly. "Severus Snape was the queen on your board and he slew all the other pawns and knights and castles and bishops without your notice. And when you woke up, only seconds ago, the game was over and won. But not by you, no. Because you don't know how to play chess. He knew from the beginning that it might cost his life, but rather like seeing that, you encouraged him to give everything for the cause, even his life, I guess, because you still meant to make him pay for having accidentally betrayed the one he loved – while you knew nothing about that love. There's some simple principle Ginevra just recently threw at Hermione: she said `It's not _your_ relationship. So keep your bloody nose out. You know nothing about our problems. It's not on you to solve them. Better waste your energy with your own.´."

"Harry – "

"And just because it's called `war´, it doesn't mean that sacrificing people is justified by the cause, you know. It's different if they do it themselves; what he did to some extent; but it's _murder_ if you force others into combat for the chance of victory. You've killed at least one family by that. You've killed _my_ family. Additionally by confiscating their rightful possession which might have saved their lives for a long time – out of mere greed. Because, even after a century, you couldn't resist the powers you hoped to gain from the Hallows, which; if you haven't noticed yet; bring neither power, nor salvation if you are seeking to find it in them. Not for the seeker, and most especially, not for anyone around. They are as much a gift as they are a curse, but they are the curse of _my_ family, not yours. But of course that doesn't matter to you. You never really cared about your own family even; ignored how you dragged them into misery and death by your hunger. You never really cared about your sister or how you hurt your brother by ignoring her existence. And I can gladly say that even though I've seen and heard you crying for her under that potion. Because that's _nothing!_ You think you feel ashamed? You aren't ashamed enough."

"What are you talking about there, Harry?", moaned the woman again and Harry finally turned to her.

"I am talking about this place being the Headmaster office.", Harry said grim. "It's missing a portrait, as far as I can see. This school has had a Headmaster, braver than probably anyone else I've ever met. I wouldn't say wiser, but at least more cunning than any. Severus Snape deserves a place in here, Minerva, and if it's just for climbing the Great Hall's wall and roof. And _he_ ,", he pointed up at the still weeping Dumbledore, "Will have to bear it. That's _his_ achievement in _his_ war. If he hadn't had that while he was still alive, I demand that he looks at the result of his greed, every day of his painted existence."

With that, he stomped past Minerva and slammed the door shut so he wouldn't hear that pathetic crying anymore. Outraged, he downright flounced past the stone statue.

"Successful?", the Gargoyle screeched after him.

"Quite, yes.", Harry grunted, not turning back. "Have a nice day."

"Oho – and _how_ successful! No one ever wished me that! A nice day to you as well, Mr Potter!"

Passing walls and windows he didn't see, Harry walked back into the Grand Tower where the portraits all the way down had started flustered conversations. The former Headmasters and Headmistresses were apparently spreading the news. Harry ignored the fingers of oil pointing after him, way too angry with Dumbledore; and even himself for having held his hand in the Limbo.

Like so many times, a voice echoed along with the sound of his shoes stomping. _Albus Dumbledore is currently unavailable for dwelling in his so beloved world of vested interest, due to wallowing in an amusingly worse sort of self-pity_..and he himself had done the same, completely ignoring that proof of one of the old man's habits provided to him. He had ignored. Out of _– the dead that had not been meant to wander among the living, should be laid to rest.._ but Dumbledore _was_ there, wasn't he? He remained as a portrait.. _being aware of their acts is one thing and learning from it as well, but developing hate another. It will be projected on –_

"Harry?", at first he had thought, he had left his portrait as well and already meant to yell at him to leave him alone, but then he saw it was his brother. "What happened up there?"

"How come you think, something happened?", Harry tried to look indifferent, which was hard with all those memories pounding against his skull from inside – _fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily –_

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"Yeah. Been told.", he sighed.

"Where're you going?"

"Dunno. Reading Rita Skeeter, perhaps,", Aberforth had a little laugh on that. "I've got a feeling that it might be surprisingly satisfying now."

"What did my brother do, ey? We've heard your cheerful voice coming from the open window."

"Er – it was open? Oh. Didn't notice. That's why she came."

"Yes, that's why. So? What's he done?"

"Well, having been exactly the arsehole Skeeter described him as. And it seems, he finally got it. But in my opinion, he hasn't understood it nearly as much as he should."

"What'd you intend for him?"

"Suggested another roommate. Listen, she'd quite likely be fainting there and if I look at that oil mayhem in here, there's no one left to get help."

"Alright.", Aberforth smirked. "See you somewhen, then."

"Yeah. See you. Second – ", Harry turned back just when both were about to walk on, "How's the wing doing?"

"Fantastic!", Aberforth laughed from the corridor. "Three floors done! See you!", with a little wave, he disappeared around a corner.

Back in thoughts, Harry stood there for some minutes, apparently blank as he couldn't remember having continued thinking about anything, before he managed to get moving again. Automatically, his legs brought him on, to a certain portrait he just noticed when it wouldn't let him through.

"Potter?", she asked.

"Oh. Sorry – force of habit.", he murmured and already spun for going downstairs when she called after him.

"If you wish, you may enter."

A little dumbfounded, he stared at the Fat Lady when her canvas swung aside and revealed the hole. His mumbled thanks waived as he climbed through, he noticed for the first time that the Gryffindor common room had a smell. It had – it's very own smell. Suddenly he felt like he had returned to something like a home. He was back home, after an exhausting journey that had taken him a year. So many hours which he had spent in that room and he had never noticed it was his home. Tears filling his eyes, they travelled through the cosy red room and he scratched his neck unobtrusively. Deeply in thoughts once more, he waddled over to the sofa in front of the big fireplace – and jumped.

"What the heck – ", he gasped.

"Harry!", Hermione moaned, as startled as him.

"Now that's a surprise,", Draco chuckled.

"Er – what're you two doing here?"

"Sitting.", the girl meant curtly in her charming manner that told him to face up to it. "But what are _you_ doing here?"

"I – er – ", he sank into the armchair to their left, "I? I – erm – felt the need to yell at Dumbledore.", Harry gazed at the carpet under his feet.

"So that was you?", Hermione, snickered. "I wasn't really sure, you know,"

"Don't tell me – ", he nearly cracked his neck at the attempt to look at the window that was in fact open and huffed. "Sure. It's a bright day. There's nothing like opening a window."

"What did he do this time?"

"He – he killed my parents.", Hermione's grin was gone instantly.

"Harry?", she moaned again. "Would you tell us – "

"It'd be easier if I showed you that first,", he held up the flask he still kept wrapped tightly in his sweaty left hand, "But I'll try without. Er – Hermione?", she had reached into her beaded bag and pulled the bowl she had stored just minutes ago. "Don't tell me that's – "

"A Pensieve, yes.", she contorted her lips.

"Where have you got that from?", Harry sat up, having gained interest.

"From Remus."

" _What?_ "

"Actually, Dumbledore left it for him in a Mokeskin Pouch so the Ministry couldn't discover it. But he had clearly meant it for me as well. Don't ask.", she said quickly on his look. "Though basically, yes, I've got my own Pensieve."

"Since when?"

"He woke me early before Bill's and Fleur's wedding to give it to me."

"So you – had it in there? All the time?"

"Yes.", she confessed. "Please don't be angry with me,"

"I'm not.", he shrugged her off.

"You know, there's been no need for it and when – you know, I – I just didn't – think about it – "

"It's okay,", Harry said calm, with a languid frown and she countered with some air sought in and an expression he interpreted quite wrongly. "Really.", the same was true for Draco's slight coughing.

"Shut up.", Hermione murmured subdued.

"I didn't say anything,", he eyed her.

"Oh sure,"

"Er – ", Harry started.

"Nothing. Um, Harry, do you want me to see it or not?"

"Oh – yes, sorry. Almost forgot.", he handed the flask over to her when she levitated the Pensieve and opened its lid.

"I'll be leaving then,", Draco suggested, but Harry stopped him.

"No. I think you know that already anyway."

"What's it about, if you think that?", Draco chuckled.

"I suppose, you don't fit in there together?"

"No.", answered Hermione.

"Well, then look at it and decide whether it's suitable for him as well, I don't care. I'll be in the bathroom meanwhile. I need a shower, somehow."

"Wait, Harry.", Hermione reached deep into her bag and pulled a big, light blue towel and a bottle of shower gel.

"Damn. I don't really believe you that you didn't think of your Pensieve.", he laughed when taking the things from her. "Ow.", she had thrown a red cushion at him. "Sorry,"

"Get drowning yourself, honestly."

The anger from before hadn't yet worn off completely when he placed his glasses on top of a pile of his clothes, on an old white wooden stool, the paint having pealed off around the edges. Even more, the feeling had come back, now that he was alone in the bathroom. Surrounded by windows, the tiled round bathtub looked slightly tempting from where he stood in half shadow. He had never used it. Six years at Hogwarts and he hadn't made benefit of it. Not even though he had never been allowed to use the Dursleys' bathtub. But maybe it was just because of that. He was used to not being allowed. So, ignoring his considerations on the blurred pool some yards away from him, he stepped into a cabin with the bottle of gel in hand and already wanted to shut the curtain when he nearly tripped over upon the startling and spinning a voice had made him.

"Can I – er – sorry. Didn't mean to – er – what I – er – can I have the shower gel when you're done with it?", seeing him slightly blurred as well, Harry listened to Draco's stammering.

"It's not mine.", was all he could get out.

"She gave me – a towel too – when I – asked.", he could see him shortly lift something big and light blue.

"Okay,", Harry meant. "What's the matter?"

"Hmm?"

"You're stammering."

"Oh – ", Draco escaped a clearly embarrassed chuckle. "I just – you know – it doesn't happen all too often that I see someone naked. Someone other than myself, I mean."

"Nor do I, but what's so – "

"Actually the only ones I've ever seen were my parents on occasions, Hannah, you now and – ", he sighed heavily.

"Not many more than I had,", Harry threw in quickly. "I never went in here while it was bustling. Just didn't want to duck away from flying soap, you know? Ron's been telling me loads of stories about the fun games in here I never really asked for."

"Imagined him the sort of.", Draco chuckled again.

"What's that mean?"

"Oh, nothing.", he just shrugged, dismissing it when Harry walked over to the stool. "Whataya you doing?"

"You're starting to hurt my eyes.", Harry picked up his glasses and put them on, just to see Draco's normally pale face carry a massive amount of pink and he mentally kicked away the sick image of Umbridge's favoured clothes that flashed up behind his eyes. "You can have it already.", he went for his towel and held the bottle towards Draco. "I think, I'll take a bath. The last I had was in a lake when I jumped off a Dragon."

His hands quivering a bit, Draco received the bottle and watched him walk over to the bathtub and turn on three taps, filling it with warm water, a low crown of foam growing on the surface. While Harry stepped in, he finally got himself a stool as well and started undressing. Harry had already closed his eyes behind the glasses and leant back, relaxing, when Draco was finally done with folding his clothes. He lifted the bottle from the floor where he had placed it in the meantime and slouched over to the cabin Harry had stood in, but stopped halfway to it, his eyes on the messed, layered black hair that partly shimmered in the summer light, reflecting the blue sky faintly. Much to his discomfort, that silence drew Harry's attention, making him look up.

"Yes?"

"Erm – ", Draco curled his lips and stared into space, the towel and bottle limply in hands.

"Are you okay?", that made him startle from his thoughts at last.

"Er – yes – I just – it's been some exhausting weeks, you know,"

"Whom you tell. It's been _years_ , not weeks."

"Probably.", unable to revolt against his legs, they brought him over to the bathtub.

"What're you – "

"No idea.", Draco sighed the truth. "I guess, something in me thought that this one _is_ big enough for two.", he put down bottle and towel on the broad tiled edge and climbed inside, sinking further and further into the soothing liquid and their feet briefly touched. "Oh. Sorry. Not so big, then."

"No.", Harry chuckled with a frown, but then gazed out of the windows so he wouldn't have to look at Draco's scarred chest, the product of his spontaneous defence little more than a year ago. "What've you been doing out there? You and Hermione?"

"Talking.", it was of course only half of the truth, but it was the truth.

"I guess, it was her idea?"

"Yes.", Harry nodded stiffly on it, his thoughts drifting off with his eyes over the landscape.

"You know, he wrote my mother a song."

"I didn't know.", the other pricked up his ears. "But yes, now that you say it, he'd have been likely to have done such. If he'd done something, he'd done it thoroughly."

"I don't think, she ever got to hear it."

"I think she had. How did you find out anyway?"

"Hermione's just watching it."

"Oh."

"Do you know when he crashed Flitwick's choir?"

"Which time? He's done that more than once, you know."

"Yeah. I _do_ know. I've been there. I've seen you. April last year."

"You've – you've been there?"

"Under my cloak, yes."

"Oh god.", Draco laughed dull. "Yeah. But that's been rather pleasant, I think. The last time's been a total disaster, as far as I heard. I've never seen Flitwick in such an awful state as on the morning after."

"He tortured him.", Harry said earnest. "Verbally and physically."

"Really?", Draco's weary grin faded eventually. "Well, it was – the evening before Hermione's birthday. He's not been a bad person, you know. I mean, yes, he might have tortured him – "

"He _has_.", Harry corrected.

"Well, then he has. Sure. That wouldn't make Flitwick the first one to have experienced it. And he's killed the one or other as well. But he's always been on the good side. Some toes in a pot of unscrupulousness, of course, but he's never been a bad man. As I said, he knew to do things thoroughly."

"Yes.", agreed Harry and finally looked at him. "I know. At least by now. Even though Dumbledore didn't."

"Tz. Dumbledore. What did _he_ know anyway.", now it was Draco who stared outside.

"Quite a lot, but as many secrets he kept, as many he missed. Remember the scars on his back?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you where they came from?"

"His trial.", Draco nodded.

"Then I don't need to explain."

"Not at all."

"Dumbledore ordered them to torture him.", there was a short pause, but Draco nevertheless answered.

"I know. But I didn't before he did him that final favour. I was too fixated on my – _task_ – anyway as to wonder."

"You owe _me_ a favour, you know?"

"That is?"

"Well, dunno but – I've saved your life twice. It's two to one for me."

"Hell,", Draco groaned, "Why d'you lot always have to count."

"`We lot´?"

"Oh come on, it's a saying, isn't it? If – forget it."

"So?"

"So what? Are you dying right now?"

"Yes. Dying for some information."

"About?"

"Guess."

"No."

"So you know what I'm talking about?"

"I'm not gonna pass on things he told me in private."

"Not you as well.", Harry grunted. "First Dumbledore – well, partly, then Hermione, Ginevra, now you – why am I not allowed to know more than he told me personally? Or – through extracted memories?"

"This time you're counting right. He'd had his reasons. If you're not allowed to know more, you're not allowed. Live with it."

"I won't!"

"You'll have to,", Draco remained cold.

"He's given his life for me, if that escaped your notice. Don't you think, I have the right to know – "

"No.", he said serious. "The less we know about a person's faults, the less will shock us. No matter what Mum knows about Dad, I don't want to hear any of his little secrets. He might become a better person to me through that, but I don't want to risk seeing him as something even worse just for the sake of it. The dead can't defend themselves."

"I had no idea you were such a wise old man, quoting people at your own sweet will,"

It took them some moments, but they couldn't resist laughing in the end. Yet it was a quiet and weary laugh they shared. When their chuckling faded into sad smiles that vanished slowly, they just eyed one another for some moments. Then, it was only each of them alone in their thoughts again, trying to avoid the other's eyes which they found best to be done by either studying the hills in the distance or the bit by bit collapsing foam. Harry unconsciously scratched his neck. That drew Draco's attention, and thus, Harry's.

Some more time they just looked at each other, probably waiting for their opposite to say something. They waited so long they already got embarrassed by it. Draco escaped one of those very faint, unintentional chuckles and with a deep sigh, Harry turned his face at the tiles to his right, though not really realising they were there at all. He was too fascinated by the clean grey grouts. The mush that held everything together. Totally straight, neat – flawless to the eye. He was so riveted by them that he didn't notice Draco having changed his position until he was already very close. Too puzzled, he could only watch him turn and lie down against him, comforting his head at Harry's left shoulder.

"I hope, you don't mind,", he whispered.

"Normally, when wanting to be polite, people ask _before_ they do something another might not like."

"Sorry. I – ", he already attempted to raise again, but, not really knowing why, Harry pressed him down by his shoulders.

"It's – I'm okay with it.", Harry considered.

"Really?"

"No idea why, but yes."

"Thanks.", Draco said when closing his eyes, which Harry couldn't see.

"As long as you keep your hands to yourself,"

"Sure.", it was no snap, no harsh word at all, only agreement.

A little dazzled, Harry began to realise what it might be. He had never been in any situation alike, let alone the fact that they were naked or in a bathtub, but he had never comforted anyone like that; not even Ginevra; nor had he ever been comforted in such a way. It felt strange, but somehow good, when he tried to ignore that it was Draco Malfoy who cuddled up to him. Not one of his best friends, not his girlfriend, but a person he had hated from the very first encounter at Madam Malkin's. That was it, he thought, when his hand glided over to the other's shoulders, trying to tell himself he only did it for relaxing his arms a little more. Draco was so thin, he actually had no problem at doing so.

 _So that's what war does to other people_ , he heard his own voice in his head. It changed them completely. There was Albus Dumbledore, whom he had always trusted. Within a year he had gone through hating and admiring and hating the dead man so many times, it was a miracle he hadn't rushed at that portrait and scratched it with the mirror shard, if he thought about it now. And there was Severus Snape, absolutely not the person he had pretended to be either. But he had given him hints – and he, Harry, had done his best to swallow them down and away, because the probable truth might have been incompatible with his opinion of him, an opinion he had built himself in times of utter naivety, when he had been much younger and unaware of how things went in the world. And last, for his current circle of thoughts, there was Draco Malfoy. A little puke who had probably seen worse than Harry could imagine.

Spoilt by his father and pressed into a society that wasn't good for any child. Fallen into the hands of Voldemort by his father's obsessions. Sentenced to death if he couldn't restore his family's reputation, in a senseless game of a sick man's spare time fun. Having survived a war, always cornered by the claws of death and shame. And when it all had finally been over, his father had been too ruined by his own failure as to look at himself any longer. So he had thrown Draco in the next pit by leaving him to care for his devastated mother.

Fearing he would see the tears in his eyes reflecting in his glasses, Harry took them off and placed them on the tiles to his left. He had had no idea that the guy in his arms; he had laid his other arm around Draco's stomach as well now; was such a courageous, tough man. Left alone in a cold world, but now starting to give everything he could to make it a better place. Turning the house he had grown up in into an orphanage, willing to teach before his graduation just to pass on his experience for the benefit of the younger ones, and ready to do his final exams along with it. Trying to reconcile with everyone he had treated badly because he hadn't meant to bare his weaknesses..

Curling his lips and unable to hold back the tears, Harry closed his eyes, wrapped his arms tighter around Draco, and nestled his head to the other's, biting down the chuckles his silent crying would cause. But it wasn't necessary. That he knew by the moment Draco started crying quietly too and placed his hands onto Harry's arms.

~~#~~


	62. Chapter 61 - Epiphany at the Watershed

– Chapter 61 –

 **Epiphany at the Watershed**

Ironic tears watered her sad smile this time when she rose from the liquid that wasn't wet at all. As those glazed eyes drifted over to the empty fireplace once more, her breath got caught. She could have sworn to see a shadow vanish into thin air and there was this feeling of not being alone.

"Severus?", she asked in a whisper, but naturally, there was no answer.

Sighing, her shoulders sank. Even if he was there, why should he show himself? Hadn't she learnt? And Harry must have still got no idea how much she knew or how deep she was into – otherwise he wouldn't have let her watch that. What time was it anyway? Shouldn't they be back already?

Without further thinking, she retrieved the memories, stoppered them and packed them along with her Pensieve. Then she marched straight to the boys' lavatory and pressed her ear to the closed door. No sound. A little more careful, she pushed down the handle and peered into the half light-flooded, semi oval tower room. No sign of – to her luck quietly enough, her hand clapped onto her mouth when she spotted them, Draco half hanging on Harry, left side and head to his chest, with his right hooked to his shoulder. She couldn't see his face in that position, but telling from Harry's open mouth and their calm, slow breathing, they were vast asleep. Harry's arms hung slack, but he had obviously had them laid around Draco before he had dozed off. Forcing down a broad grin and a way too immature thought, she silently paced back and closed the door behind.

She needed to breathe. Somewhere. The heat rising in her face had to be cooled down. For a moment she played with the thought of taking the other door for a wash, but she knew that was no help. Composing herself, she marched back up and towards the sofa. There she took out a paper and pencil and wrote them a note with an added smiling face. Then she carefully placed the phial with the memory beneath the sheet, closed the window and, feeling the strange urge for it, stuck the pencil behind her right ear before she left the tower, lively pushing a startled Fat Lady away.

"Honestly, young woman, you might be a heroine, but that doesn't give you the right to be rude!", the portrait barked, making some others turn.

"Sorry!", Hermione giggled and strolled downstairs in the bright, gigantic tower.

"That is _not_ funny!"

Ignoring the following mutters, she made her way to her destination, but turned on the fifth floor. Not knowing why, she had a feeling that there was a better place to go to. Since she would be continuing her education in September, she would spend too much time in that other place anyway. So, naturally taking her twice as long as usual due to her low speed, she paced towards the Astronomy Tower, downright inhaling the air in the deserted, peaceful castle. It had never been so empty, so silent at daytime. But she had never been to it during the summer holidays. The awareness that it had not even been two months ago that half of the school had been destroyed in some ways, felt rather odd. They had done an incredible job.

Suddenly she wasn't alone anymore. By one of the ancient windows, she noticed something silvery and slightly transparent. She turned to face Hermione with her big eyes popping out behind her glasses and an askew grin.

"Oh hello, Hermione!", Myrtle sang. "What would you be doing here?"

"I just felt the need to – "

"Yes, I know how that feels like.", she moaned. "You have sent your parents to Australia? Luna once told me, you know. I know what you feel like. Being homeless."

"Oh – sure. Your toilet was blasted away.", Myrtle confirmed with a nod and her pale lips trembling.

"But they're working on it.", the ghost sighed. "I see much more of the castle these days, but I miss my – dying place. I miss the pipes. I never thought I would, but I do."

"There are many other pipes – "

"But they're not the same!", Myrtle spat at her, her face torn with sudden anger.

"I know. I've been to The Burrow so many times, but I miss my room too.", that eased the dead girl.

"Yes."

"I'll go looking for my parents next week."

"Hopefully you find them."

"Yes. Hopefully you have your toilet back soon as well."

"Thanks.", Myrtle smirked, a little flattered.

"Ever – ", considered Hermione, "Ever been to the Astronomy Tower since your school days?"

"No."

"I – meant to go up there. Maybe you want to come with me? I could need some company."

"You – you mean that?", her already big eyes nearly fell this time.

"Yeah.", Hermione smiled.

"No one – ever – asked me – ", Myrtle sobbed.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to hurt – "

"You didn't hurt me.", she wiped off actually real tears. "It's just, no one ever asked me to be their company. Well, Luna has, and Draco, and another girl has. But she died long ago as well."

"Who was she?", Hermione asked when they moved onward, Myrtle gliding at her side.

"She was like us, you know? Just much prettier. But she had Muggle parents as well. She often came to my toilet when the boys in her class made her upset. One of them then frequently came with her. Of course I told him to get lost, but he refused and she said it was okay. They were best friends, you see? And he could hurt Peeves. So I let him stay.", by that, Hermione knew exactly whom she was talking of. "But they say, he died as well now. I'm sorry for you. You seemed happy."

"We still are,", Hermione smiled, "Somehow."

"Has he come back? As a ghost?"

"Something like that.", she sighed. "He doesn't actually show himself."

"Maybe he can't yet. It took quite a time until people saw me. I was just – thoughts – flying through the castle – but after some years, I could already see myself in windows or mirrors. Just a bit, but I could. And then I could feel things as well, if others threw them at me. Or ran through me. I still don't really feel when I fly through stuff myself though."

"That's interesting.", Hermione considered.

"Yes. Very interesting. You know, you're not so bad.", Myrtle gave her a brief high chuckle, somewhat close to Umbridge's, but Hermione did her best not to show the discovery.

"Thank you.", Hermione chuckled back.

For the rest of their _walk_ ; Myrtle simply floated ahead through the closed door to the outer tower; they remained silent. A cool summer breeze blew through Hermione's brown bushes when she went up the grating steps, Myrtle on the other side of the handrail. Still not dropping a word, they entered the topmost platform and moved towards the parapet in the western area.

"Luna said, she often comes up here."

"She does.", confirmed Hermione. "Or, did. But I guess, she'll do again when term starts."

"Oh, I think I will, yes."

They rushed around. She only stood seven feet behind them, her blond waves swaying in the breeze. Why? Why did she always appear so –

"That's probably because people usually tend to overlook me. Then they're shocked because I'm there."

"Did you just – ?"

"Your look told me what you were thinking.", Luna smiled at Hermione. "Hello, by the way."

"Hello.", the latter aspirated, eyes indeed wide open.

"I'll leave you two now,", Myrtle meant with a smile as well.

"You can stay, if you want to.", Hermione said. "Really."

"Oh no, I think you two should be alone. I know a better place to be. I haven't scared Mrs Norris in a while,"

With a high pitched, cheerful laugh she soared up, over the parapet and was gone. Before she could overcome her confusion, Hermione was already joined by Luna at the metal bars. Though they just stood there for some minutes and watched the sunlight fall onto the school grounds and the mountains and forests beyond. Some clouds had started crawling over the horizon, but they were the only ones to break the clear blue of the sky.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?", Luna asked.

"Yes."

"He's not gone too far, you know,"

"No. He's doing his best not to attract attention.", Hermione huffed.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know,", she grunted. "Maybe he doesn't read the _Prophet_ anymore."

"Oh I don't think those go on his account."

"Well, guess, I think differently."

"You really shouldn't."

"Okay, he said he'd never kill again once the war is over – "

"There you got it, haven't you?", Luna winked. "You shouldn't judge him so quickly."

"I don't. I just see the facts."

"So do I. But we both know that he likes to play with those."

"I also said I'd be fine with the killings, if they were spectacular. And drawing former Death Eaters is quite spectacular, if you think about it. I've heard Kingsley have some words on the `Avenger´ cases with Harry and he broke off almost all his sentences when he tried to describe it. Even Harry nearly puked when he showed him a photo. I didn't get a glance on it, but Harry's seen a lot and by Kingsley's descriptions and everyone else's words on the matter, it must be horrendous. He's – become a – butcher – "

"Don't judge him quickly.", Luna repeated. "As far as I can remember, it's been you to tell everyone to look beyond his masks."

"Still. You saw what he did to those in the Entrance Hall."

"That was not done nearly as slow as these murders."

"Are you just trying to convince me, he's innocent?"

"Oh yes,"

"Do you have any proof?", Hermione finally looked at her.

"None you would accept. And it's like you said, isn't it? _He doesn't actually show himself_."

"Have you been following us?", Hermione murmured.

"Perhaps,", Luna hadn't lost her gentle smile yet. "How's Draco doing?", Hermione considered for some seconds, sorting the words to say.

"Being a totally honest liar.", Luna only nodded. "But I think, he and Harry are starting to – er – get along – "

"Draco needs him, more than he himself is aware of. He's missing two fathers and Harry's closest to what would be a brother now. We really have to be careful. He needs a family. His mother will stay with the Weasleys, so he'll be alone when he returns to Hogwarts.", with every word Luna spoke, her smile slowly faded away.

"He's got Hannah – "

"True, but she can't take all the weight. You've been missing a lot during the last school year. This place has changed. The people have changed."

"Everything has changed."

"Yes. And he probably changed the most. Many didn't agree, but we wrangled him into the DA, claming that he could work as a spy. But of course there were more than just him who played two roles. Ginny has lied so much, I already expected her to mix up things at times. But she's become a master of it. Neville has grown above himself, but we haven't told him the truth until the end of the battle, like many others. He confirmed to me himself that he will return for NEWTs."

"That's great.", meant Hermione.

"Yes. Like Ginny said, he wants to do at least Herbology and try on Defence Against the Dark Arts.", Luna giggled shortly. "I haven't mentioned yet that Draco will be teaching it. I want to see his face."

"Luna!", Hermione laughed.

"Well, Ginny influenced us all, you see?"

"Yeah."

"I think, we should give him some coaching in Potions and Transfiguration, even though he can't take the exams in those."

"Definitely.", grinned Hermione. "Should have done that ages ago."

"She's pushing it quite high, don't you think? Rita Skeeter?"

"When hasn't she done that,", Hermione murmured.

"And Harry doesn't do anything about it."

"Well, everyone knows the biography's crap."

"Yes. She's ` _best selling_ ´. There has been a ceremony _somewhere_ in Devonshire. Three residents of a village bought an entire stock of her books with Leprechaun Gold and burnt them all in the middle of a field."

"Read that, yes. Serves her well. Though they should have made the article bigger. Probably she did everything to keep it from release but it leaked nevertheless. I'm actually glad that no one really takes her serious anymore."

"Some do.", Luna sighed. "Some will always do. And that's the danger with people that lie just for money. I think, I'll buy the other biography. Although it seems, it's just a part. But it's said to be written like a story rather. And if it's good, I might buy the whole series until no further comes."

"Which other biography?", Hermione got curious, but as so often, Luna wouldn't answer such a simple question.

"Harry didn't look all too happy when he came from the Headmaster office. Do you know what happened?"

"He's watched the memory Severus gave to you, but he hasn't explained yet why he so strongly believes now that Dumbledore killed his parents."

"Has he said that? Hmm. Haven't you asked him?"

"He fell asleep in the bathtub while I watched it. I didn't want to wake him."

"You should really ask him what exactly he knows.", Hermione heard that Luna was smiling while she said that, but a gust of wind had blown her hair into her face and she had serious trouble getting it away.

"He'll be telling me anyway, I think."

"You think?"

"Don't you?", she could finally wipe the hair away and turned to her, but the girl was gone. "Luna?", a little confused, her eyes searched the platform, but Luna was nowhere to be seen or heard.

~~#~~

"That is quite a stunning house. How are they holding it together?"

"I suppose, it's something in the structure. Somewhere they must have installed staves for unloading."

"They're wizards!", Hermione laughed. "It's done magically, of course!"

"Hermione!", like expected, as soon as she had entered the kitchen and been spotted by Mrs Weasley, she was pulled into a tight embrace. "Oh my goodness!"

"Hello, Mrs Weasley.", she smiled, once she could breathe again.

"Oh come on, dear. Why don't you call me Molly yet."

"Alright, Molly."

"And is that – ? Good gracious! You found them?"

"Yes."

"Wendell – ", her father offered her his hand, "Oh, sorry, Daniel Granger.", he laughed "It seems, bits from our _vacation_ got burnt into my brain. Australian sun."

"Never mind. Welcome to The Burrow. I'm Molly for you too.", she boasted and turned to greet Mrs Granger as well.

"Miranda, nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine! But we did meet already, didn't we?"

"Oh yes!", Miranda gasped. "Now that you say it, I remember, yes!"

Meanwhile Hermione had spotted that there was another person in the kitchen. Sitting at the table, he stared straight forward out of a window, seemingly unaware that they were there at all. Slightly worried, she approached him.

"Ron?", he didn't stir. "Ron!"

"Huh?", his head jerked up at her but it wasn't clear whether he actually saw her with his bloodshot eyes and he turned it back at the window three seconds later. "Hey.", he aspirated.

"What the – "

"He's been like that all week.", Ginevra had come downstairs.

"What happened?", they shortly hugged each other for a welcome.

"You found your parents?"

"On Tuesday already. But they needed some time to make themselves at home again. Our house has been empty since, so it wasn't much of a problem to move back in. I did the cleaning and arranging. Some pipes had collapsed and the ground floor was more or less awash, but I fixed that all. So? What's wrong with him?"

"He's gone mad – ", Ron said, still fixating the window.

"Who's gone mad?"

"Harry.", the siblings said at once.

"He's been put on the Avenger case,", Ginevra started to explain, "But Ron doesn't want to do it."

"That's a barbaric sadist!", Ron moaned.

"Well, then take a different case,", Hermione suggested.

"He can't.", Ginevra whispered. "He feels responsible for Harry, and that one seems to have been drawn into a wormhole once he agreed. Now he's been dropping photos all over the place in his mania. When he comes home in the evening, he can hardly talk about anything else and he walks the house with folders in thoughts before he goes to bed – they just slip out at random places! We've seen enough of that Avenger's work by now. And Harry too, if I think about it. He hasn't slept a single night without a nightmare, but he's become obsessed with that monster. I think, the job's affecting him even more than it had done Mad-Eye. Luna's started trapping him upstairs then."

"Is she here?"

"Yes. She's been here since Wednesday. But she's gone crazy too. More than usual, I mean. Pops up out of nowhere, totally silent. Mum says, she's totally amazing at Apparating, but if you ask me, she learned to make herself invisible without a wand. It mostly lies on the table in the sitting room, but she's everywhere else."

"Don't be ridiculous, even Luna can't split herself. She's not a mass murderer.", his hair wrapped in a towel and wet stains on his emerald shirt, Draco had entered the scene from above, carefully skipping a certain stair. "Hey."

"Hi.", replied Hermione.

"Back already?"

"Seems so, doesn't it?", Hermione smirked. "Has nobody repaired that stair yet? How are you?", Draco just shrugged.

"He can't complain, can he?", Ron snorted at the glass. "Living at Mum's expenses,"

"Ron,", that one warned, having heard it during her conversation with the Grangers.

"Is Harry upstairs? I'd like to have a word with him.", she already started towards the staircase but Draco blocked her path, which made him squint from the noise when he was forced to step back up onto the creaking stair.

"Er, no."

"Pardon?", she blinked at him.

"He's not here."

"What do you mean, he's not _here_?", Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Don't do that, you know I don't like it.", that made her raise it even higher.

"And it doesn't bring him back.", the second brow wandered upwards. "Neither."

"He's gone just minutes ago.", said Ginevra. "Actually I'm surprised, you haven't met him outside. No idea where he's gone. Didn't drop a word. He just stormed outside, looking like a beggar."

"A – _beggar?_ "

"I've never seen him so messed before. And that means something, since I've seen him in his worst states, if you can recall."

"Oh yes, I can.", Hermione snapped, her slightly tanned arms on her hips. "And he didn't tell you where he went?"

"I've said that, haven't I?", noted Ginevra. "Relax, _Mum_. He's grown up.", that could have been meant for both Hermione and Ginevra's mother; either of them had opened their mouths for protest. "He can take care of himself."

"You have no idea.", Hermione huffed. "He's still the careless moron from our first year. Okay, he's grown – in a little more than just his size too, but I wouldn't be too sure that he knows what he does, when he storms out of the house, looking like a _beggar_. I mean, it's his birthday! He can't just – "

"You shouldn't be so worried.", even Ron startled up now.

"There!", Ginevra murmured and pointed her entire left hand at Luna's amused face that beamed at them from a dresser by the window on the other side of the kitchen where she sat, dangling her legs, her wand stuck behind her right ear. "What have I told you?"

"Er – I _have_ seen her coming from the sitting room,", Draco meant, but was ignored.

"Hey.", Hermione greeted.

"Hello."

"Why shouldn't I be worried in your opinion?"

"Because he _does_ know what he does. It doesn't mean I think it's wise what he went for, but he has indeed grown. Mostly grown close to some principles, but he's becoming more and more his parents' son. And this way your hair will only get thinner, Draco. You've been carrying this turban for three hours now. That's not good for your hair _and_ neck and your head would cool better if you loosened it instead of washing your face every ten minutes. The air is warm enough for drying it as well, you know,"

"Blimey!", mumbled Ron. "Why does she always have to do everything with a smile!"

"Well, thanks, _Mum_.", Draco grunted and disappeared upstairs.

~~#~~

They were far too big for him, but they were necessary. The leather belt was all that kept the torn jeans on his bony hips. Above his old pair of trainers, they were turned up twice to fit his legs and the worn out grey T-shirt reached almost below his buttocks, the sleeves' seams hanging around his elbows instead of half down the upper arms as they should. Ron was simply too tall. Though the disguise was necessary. He could have used Polyjuice Potion, but he didn't want to. Now he had to pay for it. Fortunately his hair had ever been tameable enough to hide his scar, still the rest was a total mess as usual. So was his sight. The glasses and his wand were hidden in his Mokeskin Pouch. If anyone would recognise him, then for the glasses. Therefore he did his best not to stagger, only perceiving rough shapes in the light-flooded street.

Some children were playing a little further down. He could see colours dancing and hear them cheer. A – person – hurried past him. From the corner of his eye he could just see that – they – didn't bother him. Finally there was the big tree and the church, the wall. He searched it for a difference so as to find that kissing gate. Eventually he did and – was forced to realise that it was locked. Why would someone lock the door to the graveyard on such a bright day? Startling him, a falcon screeched from the top of the church's ridge turret. He had to risk it.

Cautiously, he did a checking glance up and down the street and clearly sure not to be seen, he reached into his pouch for the glasses. Now he could see that the falcon had caught something with its claws, on which it was pecking now, apparently a mouse. Another look around confirmed that he was alone in the hot summer sun. The children had moved into a shady side alley and away. Apart from another screech of the falcon and a soothing breeze making the leaves on the tree swish, the street was silent. A little too suspicious. Quickly, he retrieved his wand from the pouch as well before he hid it under the T-shirt again and clutched the phial in the other hand tighter.

"Homenum Revelio.", he whispered up the street and did it another time down, but nothing happened and when he pointed his wand at the door, he got the same result. "Alohomora.", he hissed, but it didn't work either.

Why would someone lock the door to the graveyard on such a bright day – _magically_? And who? Something was definitely wrong there. Giving it a try, he swung himself over the low wall. Had he imagined? It had felt like he had just crossed some shield, and he knew that feeling well. Someone had cast a shield over the graveyard. But _why?_ Ignoring the war memorial changing its shape as he passed it, he snuck around the church, crouching by the wall, careful not to miss any hint of movement and, though sure that he had been discovered anyway, he scanned the rows. Nobody there. If this was meant to be a trap, he had just jumped straight into it and from the feeling of being watched he had, taking out his Invisibility Cloak, was no help. Whoever they were, they had him. His heart hammered up in his throat and he knew the sweat on his forehead and palms was not only due to the heat of the day.

Exactly that heart did a jump when he did, so shocked that he didn't give a sound when his back met hard with the church wall. He had completely forgotten. Twelve o'clock, rang the small bell. That was why the street was empty. Everyone was at lunch. Yet pounding heavily, his heart throbbed against his ribs now, just where it belonged, and he leant to the wall at the corner, trying to calm his heavy breathing until the bell fell still again. Having decided to take a glance around that corner, his heart stopped for a second anyway.

An angel sat by a grave. _Their_ grave. Shining white was the hooded cloak of the kneeling person, in front of his parents' final resting place. Fearing he would crush the vessel in his left hand, Harry loosened the grip a bit, but tightened it on his wand that he pointed straight at the stranger who rose gently and turned to him. Framed by the hood, a plain white female mask with a sharp, thin nose and faintly smiling lips covered their face. The eyes behind were black marbles, being the only dark about the angelic figure. The falcon shrieked another time and Harry's neck cracked when his head and wand zoomed at the glowing white fog that fell to his right, becoming a similar character, the floor length cloak covering everything nearly seamless from the mask down. But this mask had no slits for eyes. Where should be holes, was plain white, melting with the rest of the mask. A red and white dog came from behind the Dumbledores' gravestone and transformed to a third of them, rushing to his other side as fog alike, faced with Harry's wand as well.

Frightened to the bone, but determined enough to not give in, Harry pointed his wand back at the first person, stiffening when each of them stretched their white arms forward from beneath their cloaks. The left held a wooden box, the right a bouquet of white flowers and the one by his parents' grave, only their right hand up. Gentle moving fingers in a white glove made Harry's wand arm lower without effort and he felt the phial slip forward. Desperately trying to hold it, his left arm followed the gesture as the figure tried to summon it. Unable to move his feet from the ground as though they were glued to it, he had to watch it slither from his fingertips and stop floating between him and the stranger who clenched their fist. A scrunching sound and the crystal vessel collapsed, causing the memory to vaporise in a brief glow.

Pieces of glass and a white string fell to the ground before Harry's aghast stare and the figure opened their hand again, a white light bulb now appearing on it. Harry eyed it as it floated closer to him when the wooden box did, which settled down on his arms he strangely voluntarily held out for it. The light halted only four feet away from him and the hand was lowered; a woman's voice began to speak to him.

"This is no place for burying memories, my son, and memories aren't meant to be buried.", his mother said, echoing from far away it seemed.

"Mum?", he asked the light. "Who are they?"

"Let the dead rest,", she answered, "And celebrate your life with the living.", the light was gone.

Blinded by another, he found himself surrounded by the glowing fog again and the three soared high into the sky, becoming one beam and disappeared into nowhere. The feeling of being under a securing shield vanished with them and looking back down on the tombs, he found a bundle of white hyacinths on the grave left to his parents'. The box on his arms and the wand still clutched tight, he paced past the shards and string in the short grass, over to it. Having been covered with snow at his first visit, he hadn't seen the sign he did now, spanning over the whole slab below the big Runic Cross that had many names in runes on it.

Eager to find out what was inside, Harry knelt down like the stranger had had and opened the box. Telling from the folder that rested on top of what filled it to the rim and a curious look specifically down the small gap at the side, it contained nothing other than such. He opened the lid and found a clean cut piece of parchment, the same kind of runes written on it as on the cross. With trembling fingers he lifted it and a sheet of strangely clean white, whiter than he had ever seen any parchment be, and his eyes popped out on the old, yellowed articles from the _Prophet_ below. It were articles he could remember Hermione having mentioned. About Eileen Prince, from her school days until she married Tobias Snape, until the one that spoke of her having become mother. That was the end of the folder. Harry closed it, took it out and carefully placed it on the grave with the sign of the Deathly Hallows. The first article in the next folder was about the rich Samantha and Matthew Potter announcing how proud they were now to have a son. It even had a photo of them with the baby James printed along.

For some moments, he only stared at the parchment with runes he had placed at the box's right, wondering what they meant, but believing that Hermione would be able to tell him. Then his look drifted onto his parents' grave's slab. On that, lay a single white rose and lily.

~~#~~

Ashen, Hermione sat at the kitchen table with Ginevra and Luna. Outside in the garden, another table had been set by a busy Molly Weasley and all sorts of friends had arrived. Half of the DA was there, those that were left of the Order of the Phoenix, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George and of course everyone who had been in The Burrow already, wearing what they had felt like, on Harry's demand. Naturally, the dress code ranged from jeans and T-shirts to miniskirts and strappy tops, elegant trousers and shirts or blouses, delicate dresses, simple or ornamented robes and – Hagrid's everyday wear, adorned with his most artistic and only tie.

They were chatting lively while Molly asked for the time, constantly, annoying them all. Hermione, however, was far from living. But that was her own fault. She had pleaded Ginny to get her one of Harry's folders. Now; luckily not moving; very similar photos of people trussed up to chairs laid spread on the clean kitchen table. The major colour was red and they could hardly be recognised as former human beings, their identity only conjecturable by their ghastly faces and though all their eyes had been closed, even spookier, with a Sickle pinned against each, it was the last one would want look at, especially when actually being supposed to wait for a birthday party to begin. But the birthday boy was long time in coming anyway.

Luna stood up like she had done several times, and went for checking the Weasleys' famous clock that had gained four more hands over the summer when more rooms had been successfully attached to the house's third floor against every structural logic. All hands but one were on `home´, the exception still pointed at `lost´. But by the moment she looked at it, that hand jumped to `travelling´. Quicker than a Grindylow abused as a cannonball, Luna sped back into the kitchen, the photos soaring into the Ministry folder with the top-secret-stamp in Harry's order even before she came to halt and it landed neatly in her hands. Less than three seconds after she had caught it, she stood where she had slid to stand before, panting a little. The other two girls were too startled to realise what had happened when Harry already came shuffling from behind Luna.

"Harry!", Hermione gasped. "Where the – Harry?"

"Huh?", he must have noticed her just then, having been too amazed by Luna's colourful dress – or the golden lightning bolts that dangled from her ears.

"What have you – what have you got there?"

"Er – ", Harry gazed down on the piece of white parchment in his right hand when Hermione had stood up and staggered towards him. "I – where is everyone?"

"They're waiting for you, outside.", Ginevra answered him concerned. "Harry, you've been gone for five hours."

"I – I know – ", he aspirated. "Hard to miss the bell above my head, was it?"

"Bell?", Hermione and Ginevra said together.

"I'll be – upstairs, getting out of that crap, okay? Erm – can you – can you decipher that for me in the meantime, Hermione?"

She had hardly gotten hold of the sheet, he was already hurrying to the staircase, ignoring the creaking stair, and out of sight. Completely beside herself, she stared at the kind of runes she had seen last only a week ago. She stared at them so long –

"`J´? Ha- `J´ – Harry? Who – oh my god – "

"Yes?", he was back in clean black shoes and trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt and with his still shoulder-length chaos of freshly washed hair, right when she had read it fluently a second time.

"Who – um – who is – J?", Hermione blinked heavily, his glasses and the green behind being no real distraction.

"Jay? Jay who?"

"Not Jay, the letter J. Um – ` _This once belonged to your grandfather.´_ ",she read aloud. " _`I completed it over the past years. In hope, possessing and carrying it on will bring you the same pleasure as it had him, I wish you all possible happiness on your further path. May it be a path of brightest light..Happy 18_ _th_ _Birthday.´_ It's signed with _`J.´_ Who is – "

"My grandfather, you say?", Harry's eyebrows narrowed. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Positive.", both considered for some moments.

"James.", Harry said.

"Harry,"

"If it belonged to my grand- no – I mean, it's – but – "

"What is it, Harry? Carry on what?", something told her that she was supposed to know what he had received. "And who gave it to you?"

"Mum – er – ", her shook his head, "I – I mean – no idea – but – "

"Who.", Hermione dropped her hands, drilling her eyes into his.

"Er – can we discuss that later, please? I'm hungry."

"Harry! You give me that and expect me to – ", she brandished with the sheet, but it was suddenly gone from her fingers.

"Really, I – I mean, it doesn't run away, does it?"

"It – just did, actually – ", she stared at her empty hand.

"And you wouldn't believe me anyway."

~~#~~


	63. Chapter 62 - Oh sweet vengeance

– Chapter 62 –

 **Oh sweet vengeance**

Black. Black was the _colour_ of September. Let alone the uniforms, everyone else wore black as well. Black bows in some girls' hair – and black rings under many eyes. Black drapes decorated the hall, but silver and golden stars were glittering from them, glistening in the light of the fire bowls along the walls and the floating candles. The only real exception were a sallow skinned, fair haired young man who was dressed in an elegant white robe with silver embroidered seams and silver buttons as well as white trousers and shoes, over which he wore a long white cloak, obviously at last influenced by a girl at the Ravenclaw table whose equally coloured hair was topped by a sparkling, colour changing woollen hat that earned her loathing looks, which she proudly ignored with her usual warm but absent appearing smile.

Professor Sprout had been utterly excited and nearly tripped over her own feet when having led the first-years up to the podium. And though, next to his usual description of the houses, and words of not judging like he had spoken at the last Start-of-Term Feast, added with notes of lighter times lying ahead, the Sorting Hat hadn't managed to lift the mood in the Great Hall. The courses had gone by, much returned to the kitchen untouched. In petto, Hermione hoped it would reach anyone in need, rather than what had happened at Lucius Malfoy's funeral.

A Phoenix feather stuck in the brim of her sharp black hat and her green eyes sunken in behind her spectacles, Professor McGonagall had raised another time from the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table, for a repeated welcome and announcement of the formalities. Septima Vector had now become Head of Gryffindor, following McGonagall in the line of strict, consequent Heads, Hestia Jones had agreed to teach Muggle Studies and a certain Herbert Cluttertoil, a thin-faced ginger in approximate fifties, was appointed to replace Bathsheda Babbling who had been killed in the battle. Last, after a drab, embarrassing silence, Draco had received the faintest applause, but it had been shattered by the cheers of a small number of students, which he had shrugged off with a pitiful chuckle. Now that this was done, some heavy load could downright be felt falling from the new Headmistress's heart and she swallowed heavily so it would stay where it landed.

"More than forty years.", Minerva McGonagall aspirated, her eyes not really on any of the students on the long, crammed tables before her. "For more than forty years have I been listening to the words said between these walls – I have been Deputy Headmistress for nearly half the time – I rebuilt this school with my friends – and alongside, all summer, I have been working on what I could say to you all when you should arrive – back – or newly – I wrote speech after speech – and ended up with a dustbin of – ashes – I – I burnt them all. I just had no idea what to tell you – nothing fitted – not being worth said – or being too much – I just – couldn't – couldn't find words for all those stars that fell from the sky over the past years, and throughout the battle these grounds have seen."

Half of the people in the hall couldn't look at her anymore at that point and she paused, wiping her hand over her thin-lipped mouth, the mournful, watery eyes still seeking for something they could look at properly. When they didn't manage to either, she decided to continue after a deep breath.

"Many of you have seen the statue that has been built outside, in the centre of our front courtyard. It bears the names of all those who fell victim to this never loved boy called Tom Riddle and his desperate attempt to be heard, ever since he started it.", Myrtle, floating in a door-side corner, gave a sigh and McGonagall carried on, with more determination, but also more tears, dangerously close to fall. "Some of the names don't show a date of decease, but we all know when they have left us. I – didn't want to only give _them_ a last honour – I wanted to give it to all those families that have been torn – because, at root, we are all daughters and sons of someone and it does not do justice to those we lost when we only mention the stars that have crashed onto these grounds in the night and morning to May second, and some might not agree with me, but I also wished those to be named that we fought against. Because these families have lost sons and daughters as well, to whatever reason that may have driven them. And furthermore we should not just remember them by walking past their names. We should remember them _every day_."

Like many others, Draco had leant his head onto his hand and his face was glistening with silent new tears, coming with each second passing, from most people's eyes. Some simply had lost the ability to cry any more over the past weeks or longer.

"And _we_ , those _left behind_ , it is our duty, I believe, to pick up these stars and send them back into the sky for shining their light on us from above. For being a guarding light, for being our _real_ monument, a memorial that life is nothing to be thrown around as if it were rolls of parchment that contained nothing but useless words.", with a last pause, she lowered her head. "Let us honour these stars in a minute of silence."

~~#~~

It was her, that much he could tell. All was bathed in silence, but her voice echoed over it, though soft and gentle like the morning greet of a blackbird, shortly before the sun climbed over the horizon, breaking the silence in a mellow way. It would take hours for that moment to come; in his heart however, the bird had started for the sun to sing. Just slowly, he approached the open doors under his cloak, as slowly as other people joined in her song. He knew it, vaguely. At some point in his childhood he had heard it on the TV, sung by a gospel choir, shortly before Dudley had changed the channel. Such a brief, minuscule moment, and still it was there, burnt into his mind and now it was back again, although he had not even known it was there, somewhere.

Beautiful, somehow, but creepy enough to give him chills. Even more, the awareness that it was those with Muggle descent to sing. They sung for those fallen in wizards' wars. _We are all human, carrying the gene or not. Even in times like the current; or especially in such; we have to stick together and care for one another, no matter where we come from._ She had been right, then already. And although he knew that the chances stood low for any of those students knowing about the interview, there was the realisation that again it had been his mother to bring people together, in the end. A, in spite of all the holes blasted into people's hearts, sort of happy end. And the song was just about that – it meant to make people happy, to bring peace, salvation – telling not to mourn, but live on with the memories of what had been good.. _no place for burying memories_.. _memories aren't meant to be buried_.. Memories shouldn't be buried. They couldn't be buried. They would always be there in some way.

The words and the song in his head, he went down the spiral staircase, slowly, but steady. Every step, a memory. Every memory – just months ago he would have given everything to erase those, but now – he clung to them as if his life depended on every flicker. He didn't startle when the torches lit up, blue, cold, dead, but – never having been more warming. Endless the corridor laid there. Only seconds later, it seemed to him, he arrived at the dark door. How many times had he stood there, with disgust, with hatred, unwilling to enter, feeling forced into a cage of sharp thorns – how many times had he not opened his eyes – his fingers closed around the old handle, pushed it down.

Silence. No sound from the hall above anymore, no sound from the door when it opened for him. Darkness inside. He stepped in, shut out the torchlight. A spark in the fireplace, catching his attention. The flames had come on the mere split-second wish. So did the smaller ones on the candles, up on the chandelier. Nothing. Emptiness. Empty shelves, two empty chairs by two empty tables. Swallowing, he pulled off the cloak and stuffed it into his Mokeskin Pouch as he walked over to the big desk, with more memories flashing up, the closer he went to the single fake book in that one shelf. Not even noticing it, his hand suddenly laid on it, tilting it, which made the secret door open. As though greeting him, the chandelier in the hidden room lit up like its twin in the main office, presenting him with the same emptiness.

Where had he taken the piano? Where were all those things? Had they – simply left with him? All over summer he had wondered, and not found an answer. Maybe it was something simple, something he had – failed – to – see – like so many things – chocolate? Harry blinked. The bar hadn't laid there after the battle. Someone had definitely placed it on that chest of drawers, still wrapped. In long seconds of confusion, he snuck up to it and carefully picked the piece of parchment it laid on. It still troubled him that he hadn't recognised the similarity of the writing in the Potions book to that on the blackboard or corrected homework and tests.

 _If you find this, I am far away_

Harry unfolded it and read on.

 _But no matter how far, you will get to see with time, how close I still am. And regardless of where my mortal shell may be, I will not rest; for your sake, and everyone's; until every of those cowardly beasts has knelt before the headman, confessing truthful loyalty or deepest remorse, and received adequate sentence for either._

 _Should I not wander as a living among the warm anymore, I swear to you, should it be your wish, I will go on this path from the grave and I shall haunt the sinners in ways possible, drive them into justice's claws at the eternal flowing river, serrating their bridge from below. One word from you shall be enough._

 _Meanwhile, and in case the biscuits haven't reached you,_

 _Happy New Life, dear Harry James._

 _Yours, "Blackbeard"_

Crashing onto the blank space below, a single tear fell. It had been to make him believe what he had been meant to believe at that moment, that much he knew now. The only reason why he had torn the photo. The only reason why he had torn so much else. For a gr- he didn't even want to consciously think the phrase to the end. And the word had been spoken months ago, in the Headmaster Study; as it seemed, effectively. _The deaths we truthfully hope for in blind loathing, will haunt us for a lifetime._ He wasn't so sure if those would in the specific case, but it would at least grant him a safe job for a long while. However, like the song had stated, there was a little light that shone on: he wouldn't be the one to do it. Neither. They might have initiated it eventually, set the ball running, but it would be another to push it on, to carry out the deed. The only decision to be made was to decide which was the greater sin: leaning back and doing nothing, or intervening.

His shoes still on, Harry turned on the spot, sank down and fell flat on his back, onto the soft, white bedding. Gliding from his shaking fingers, a bar of wrapped chocolate and a number of words.

~~#~~

Full to the brim. None of them had ever seen so many benches and desks in that classroom. Almost all who were still alive, had returned to redo their final year, or at least prepare for the additional course of N.E.W.T. exams that would take place before Christmas for those who wished to take them. In the front row, blocking one of the corridors, a desk had been extended over the length of its bench. Behind that space, Padma sat in her wheelchair, next to her twin and Fay. Hermione and Ginevra shared the one at their right, and further right, sat Luna and Hannah, then Neville; who hadn't been at the welcoming feast; and Ernie, Seamus and Dean. All of them were chatting, but subdued, waiting for their very first lesson to start. Then, the door to the classroom opened and everyone went silent.

A big grin laid on Luna's face when Neville started blinking heavily at their new teacher who passed the narrow rows. At first he had thought Draco would sit down among them, but when he had realised that there was no possible seat left, it dawned on him, why he didn't wear a school uniform.

"And now don't tell me, you all knew that.", Neville aspirated.

"If you'd been here yesterday, you'd know as well.", sighed Draco when he turned around, adjusted his black robe and leant against the teacher's desk.

"They called me to – "

"I know. Luna said that. How are they?"

"Better.", Neville huffed. "So? We'll have to call you _Professor Malfoy_ now?"

"I think – ", Draco took a deep breath, pondering, "I'd make an exception for this class."

His eyes travelled over all those familiar faces, becoming sadder with every second passing. In different times, a statement like this might have created the one or other chuckle and even laugh, though those times laid far in the past, and probably again, the future. Some of them were still staring back, but slowly one after another didn't want to have to look at him anymore. For some more moments he struggled for words, then he decided to start with a number of ridiculous facts to bridge the embarrassing silence.

"Okay – er – I actually wanted to begin with fist-years, just going according to curriculum, but Minerva insisted I'd start with people I know. It's going to be a bit difficult since half of you already have a feeling of what's asked in the NEWTs, even though Amycus did it – er – _slightly_ different, and the rest doesn't. I had a look at the real curriculum and it's basically just revising what's been taught in years one to six, plus theoretical stuff about the Unforgivable Curses, multiple Shield Charms and duplicating effects in general as well as improving non-verbal magic. Summer term deals with Patronuses; which I was told to be a recent change; and other difficult defensive magic, but most of you can conjure them already anyway and know the other spells. I'd say, we improve that then and do revision until the exams. For the swots among you, there's an additional point on wandless disarming, but we'll talk about that when we're there."

"Wandless disarming only?", Hermione moaned, and did indeed get herself some giggles.

"If you want to learn how to turn wine into blueberry juice without notice, you'd be better off with Flitwick.", Draco replied cold, making her face turn to the colour of said drinks. "Good. I was asked to take down names of who wants to do the exams at Christmas already. Anyone in for that?"

There was only a small number of hands in the air, including Neville's. Everyone watched him walking around the desk, taking a roll of parchment from one of the desk's drawers and ink a quill. He scanned the rows and wrote their names down, nodding approvingly when he was done.

"One thing – has – has anyone seen Harry? I mean, sure, he might be working, but I'd just like to know whether he hasn't changed his mind."

"You know he's said he won't be sitting here?", Ginevra noted.

"Yeah. Still."

"And that he's said he's gonna take them in September?"

"Yes, but they'll be – "

"No, Kingsley has used all his influence again.", pouted Hermione. "He's getting his own special course of exams."

"Oh. Right. Okay then – "

"Why?", asked someone from the back row.

"Because he's always getting special treatment, you halfwit.", murmured Ginevra, her head turned. "He's asked for it because he _doesn't_ want to appear like he's treated with kid gloves and because he doesn't want any of us get distracted during our exams, simply by his presence, okay?", a mutual snort, and her eyes were back on Draco, who continued.

"Alright. Well. I'd say, it wouldn't hurt any of you, if we'd went through the theory together now and do the training later. We'll have to move to a bigger room anyway. Since it's a double period, I think we should spend three quarters of the first on theory, then move downstairs and practise for the rest of the time. Who disagrees? No one? Great. Well then, er – forget about those books.", he was surprised how fast they went into the bags. "They're just useful if it's too late for asking me. If you got a question, ask it right away. And if you run into me in the corridors, I don't care. I'm here to assist you.", he couldn't help sharing the quiet snicker that went through the rows. "Yes, I am. Now, any questions already?"

It took a quiet while. People just exchanged unsure looks, some tried to encourage their neighbours. Eventually, Leanne's hand went up, if though very hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"You're – ", she gargled and swallowed, "You're not going to show us the Unforgivable Curses, are you?"

"No.", Draco lightly shook his head. "We've had plenty enough of that last year.", relieved groans travelled around the room for some seconds. "What I'm gonna do is telling you the basics about how they work and how you can shield yourself to your best and you'll learn to resist the Imperius Curse, but just if you believe you're ready for that. I won't torture any of you, don't worry. Yes, Michael?"

"And the Killing Curse?"

"Yeah. That one.", he chuckled into space. "It's hard to deflect it, but it's possible. You'll best train that against a powerful stunner. But we'll get to that. Daphne?"

"Pansy told me that you were good at Occlumency and even Legilimency."

"Then she told you some truth.", it was unmistakable that hearing her talk about his absent ex-girlfriend displeased him and his formerly rather insecure tone became strict and cold. "But I'm not gonna teach any of you in that matter. It's not on the curriculum and I won't give extra lessons on that. Definitely not. I know what you're heading after and I told your sister already when she asked me about it. That's my last word on it: no. Anyone else wishing to learn more than highly advanced magic? Good."

~~#~~

"Good morning,"

"Morning.", he mumbled back, not seeing who had joined him in the lift.

Even though he wore his glasses, he had a hard time trying to see anything at all. His eyes were swollen, not only because he constantly rubbed them. If he hadn't held himself to one of the handholds, he would have fallen over latest at the fourth floor. He had been in those lifts quite a number of times already, but that one was exceptionally loud today. Like an army of knights in full armour, it clattered around his ears and he felt as if he was standing on a drunken horse that tried to jump a course. Not enough, he missed the second floor. Before his feet reached the grills, they shut and the lift sped down to the seventh floor.

Unnerved, he leant back against the cabin wall and continued robbing his eyes, yawning. Approximately an hour of sleep, if not less. He was lucky he had found the way out of the castle without tripping over his cloak, even though he had washed his face about five times. The flight down to Hogsmeade hadn't been better and still surprised how he had managed to Apparat, he limply greeted more people that entered.

"Went on the razzle, Potter?", a man laughed, so loud it hurt his ears, but he just brandished him off and finally stepped out into the right corridor.

Someone nearly knocked him over. Staggering, both muttered a barely comprehensible apology and he slouched on, not caring who had run into him. Completely hormic he teetered to the office doors and pressed down the handle of one. As far as he could see, each of the cubicles was empty. So he went for the office of his boss, guessing the reason. The door swung open and a high pitched squeal – almost woke him.

"Sorry, din' mean to distuuurb.", he yawned again, turned and slammed the door shut as fierce as he could.

Incredible, he thought, and took the door further to its right, which fortunately was the one he had meant to enter. That much he knew when his best friend's angelic roar thundered at him.

"Bloody hell, mate! What happened to you? Where've you been? We already wanted to send a squad – "

"Did I miss something?"

"Only half of the roster – Harry?", he had let himself sink into a chair near the grand desk and rubbed his head, which didn't have much impact on the appearance of his hair, only that it stood in slightly different directions.

"Damn it – ", he groaned to the tiled ceiling.

"Is everything all right with you, Mr Potter?", his boss asked; Harry only recognised him by his voice, but didn't really see anyone who was in the office.

"I'm totally –", Harry yawned another time, now into his hand, "Fine, Mr Robards."

"And now tell me why you fail to convince me. You look absolutely dreadful! Shall I send for a Healer?"

"I said, I'm fine. Only had no sleep,", the ceiling soothingly vanished when he closed his eyes. "That's all."

"And why would that be?"

"Yeah! What the heck did you do!", Ron had moved closer.

"Listen, if you don't want to tell your colleagues, I have no problem with it. But I am your superior and I have to know why one of my Aurors is incapable of working. When they resume their work, you will stay here and explicitly tell me what kept you from sleeping, Mr Potter. Just because you saved our world, you shouldn't think you may utilise the most incredible rights."

"I didn't go on the razzle, as someone meant so politely in the lift.", Harry growled angrily. "I spent the entire night with working."

"And on what?"

"The three Magi."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said,"

"I understood you clearly, Mr Potter. But if this was supposed to be a joke, it was not funny. Not in the slightest."

"It wasn't."

"And what do those `Three Wise Men´ have to do with any case we are currently working on, in your opinion?", in _his_ opinion, Robards had just sounded like Hermione.

"No idea. And I'm not sure whether they're men at all. Maybe they are, maybe not. They looked more like women to me, to be honest. But they're somehow connected to the Peverells. Put flowers on an old grave with that sign on."

"You should honestly try to get to your senses, Mr Potter. If you listened to yourself – "

"Oh, my sense are alright,", Harry sighed and sat up, finally able to see more than just light and dark.

"He's had a strange meeting on his birthday,", meant Ron.

"And what does your birthday party have to do with your job?"

"Well, we're dealing with the Peverells, aren't we?"

"Not that I know,"

"Er – we are, Mr Robards.", Ron confirmed for him. "They quite likely created the Deathly Hallows."

"This is a mere legend that developed from a children's story and – "

"It's not.", the friends said at once, confusing all present even more.

"And since that Avenger paints their sign on doors, we're dealing with the Peverells."

"Their sign, Mr Weasley? That is Gellert Grindelwald's – "

"He abused it.", Harry huffed, presenting his boss with a languid stare that didn't only hark back to his lack of sleep anymore. "It's the sign of the Hallows."

"Yeah. Look.", Ron fetched a paper and a quill, drew it and turned it around for Robards to see it. "Cloak, wand, stone.", he pointed on the specific elements, visibly astonishing him.

"And where have you two gotten that information from?"

"Albus Dumbledore.", it shot from Harry, but Ron opened his mouth for an attempt of correction. "He gave Hermione that book.", Harry sang in a somewhat warning tone, hoping it wouldn't drift through too much. "That lead us to the truth, eventually. We got the information from Dumbledore, Ron.", relieved to the bone he saw Ron understanding why he didn't want to bring Xenophilius Lovegood into the matter.

"Oh – yes – Dumbledore. Yeah. Sorry. Slipped me for a moment. There's been so much in between,"

"I still don't understand – ", Robards looked from one to the other. "Yes, he has beaten Grindelwald, but how do they connect to this story and – "

"Grindelwald has been hunting the Hallows for nearly half of his life. That is common news."

"If this is common news, Miss Massad, it has not reached me."

"It has now.", Harry noted, causing him to blink.

"And? Had he found them?", Robards murmured unimpressed.

"Quite likely one of them.", said Harry. "At least he knew where it had gone to after his incarceration."

"And w-"

"But that's not really the point here.", he added poignantly when he noticed an alarming glistening in Robards' eyes. "They exist and that's that. I won't tell anyone more and torturing the information out of me would just make more people get hurt on the pointless journey to find them. And the point's rather that Grindelwald was so driven by his wish to gain power that he didn't see their true meaning. The actual reason behind. And that's the wobbly flaw in our inquiry. You're making us focus on Grindelwald, while we should focus on the Hallows. Those Avengers want to tell us something."

"Those?"

"I think there are three."

"Hang on – why didn't you say that earlier?"

"I actually said it quite a number of times, Ron. I don't think one alone does all that work. Track them down – secure their houses – overpower them – the obvious interrogation – the torture – that's not one single person. Three seems just right, doesn't it? One for the torture, one for the watch and one giving orders. Three Avengers. Three Hallows. They're trapping their victim, no chance for escape. That's the power, that's the Elder Wand. It eventually leads to death. They're quicker and cleverer than us. Disappear before we catch them. They're gone without any hint that might lead to them. They strike out of nowhere, and leave into nowhere. The Cloak of Invisibility.", Harry also pointed on the sign while explaining.

"And the Resurrection Stone?", Robards blinked several times again.

"Exactly. I'm not entirely sure about that, but they know whom to look for. That means, it's at least one former Death Eater."

"We are aware of that much."

"Sure. But they're outlaws. Defected Death Eaters had no chance for survival while Voldemort was still alive. He would get them eventually. They are dead, literally. They `returned from the dead´. They are ghosts for us. They're there, but not. Throughout time, the Hallows always appeared when something grand, but brutal and eventually lethal happened. Emeric the Evil had the Elder Wand, so of course his defeater Egbert, and Barnabas Deverill is said to have used it in the eighteenth century Goblin Rebellion.

"In banned literature."

"Well, guess why.", Harry meant casually. "I can give you proof of at least four more owners of the wand, believe me. He had it. They appeared last when Grindelwald was defeated, and now around Voldemort's fall. So did the Resurrection Stone, and it passed on, as I believe, not only once through taking innocent lives. And the Cloak, ever since it was created, the rightful owner played a sacrificing part in wizarding history, known by the community or not. Whenever someone had a lesson about life and death to learn, they participated in the act, so to say. That's the hint, that's the warning. A life-for-life-game."

"That – might – probably – make – sense – ", Robards brushed his moustache in thoughts.

"But why have they killed tonight?", another man wondered.

"Tonight?", Harry turned around.

"Yes. It has been all over the _Daily_ _Prophet_ already.", Massad said, straightening her flowery headscarf. "You have not been the only one with a busy night. Four murders."

"Four?", Harry murmured, looking back at his boss.

"Four, Mr Potter."

"Four – ", he aspirated. "Four – Hogwarts – "

"Hogwarts?"

"One for each House. Term's started today. They took vengeance for Hogwarts. Was just a matter of time, if I think about it and if you say there were four tonight, it totally makes sense."

"You're creepy, Harry,", Ron chuckled. "Just like you ate up Hermione's brains. Each of them has been in a different House."

"Really?"

"Yes.", said Robards. "Former Ministry employees again. Therefore we know. It still surprises me that they ended up in his rows. He had his fingers further in than I believed. But if you claim these murders were for Hogwarts – what were the others for?"

"I've – made a list – ", Harry reached under his clothes for his Mokeskin Pouch and pulled a folder. "Of them all tonight.", he handed it over to his boss; instantly his colleagues gathered closely around the desk, eager to get the best look on it. "It's all important events. Important for the Order of the Phoenix, and for Dumbledore's Army."

"I can see and understand some, but – birthdays?", he looked straight into Harry's confident eyes.

"Birthdays. A bit macabre, I know, but what's not macabre about the case?", Harry received some approving nods. "I checked everything with Hermione's birthday calendar. She's taken down all birthdays of DA and Order members. Of everyone who's ever been a member. And there are two deaths for people who got killed – generally the _victims_ were closely involved in the respective murder."

"Excellent work, Mr Potter!", Robards aspirated, his look travelling between him and the sheets in the folder he lifted randomly. "Absolutely fabulous!"

"We need to gag the _Prophet_.", said Harry.

"Pardon?"

"Four murders in a night – that's great. I mean, it sounds like a grand ending. It's the highest number so far. I don't think they're done yet; by far not; just with the innermost circle or so, but if we want to catch them, no one's supposed to know that they're still active. If the _Prophet_ keeps reporting, sooner or later all former Death Eaters will leave the country. Some have been found in totally deserted places. They sought shelter. If anyone gets to know that no place in Britain is safe, they'll all be gone abroad. The Avengers will follow them, I'm sure, but we'll lose charge. If they're going international, we won't get them. We have to keep them in Britain, but that only works if tonight's murders look like they've been the last. They know how to hide. We have to shield them in order to get them. If they don't want to cooperate with us, we cooperate with them."

Silence fell over the room. Still trying hard to stay awake, Harry found the best way was to stare straight into the eyes of the man before him. Mainly though because he wanted to give his best to be taken seriously and because he wanted to make sure Robards' valued law and order enough so as to not becoming another one to fall victing to a personal hunt for the Hallows.

"Very well. Mr Cannaham, that would be your job then. And if you have to confund each and every single employee of the _Daily Prophet_ that there has been a message from them."

"Alright, Mr Robards. I'll take care of that.", the slim man in an oversized dark brown robe replied.

"Mr Potter – would you – would you say, by this list – you could predict – "

"Quite certainly. I could at least predict the date. The next will be on the nineteenth."

"September?"

"Yes. That's Hermione's birthday. There's nothing in between. No death, no other birthday. Perfect for the _Prophet_ for spreading more than one story of their final blow."

"Good. Mr Cannaham, you should run for it."

"Okay.", and Cannaham indeed sped towards the door.

"We need to take an eye on Dolohov."

"Antonin Dolohov, Mr Potter?"

"Exactly that one."

"He is awaiting trial in a Ministry cell – "

"Yes. But he's likely to be the next. I got a feeling. He's hit Hermione with a curse that gave her a scar all over the chest which she will carry forever. Their revenge is a personal one. Dolohov. That's whom we have to watch. Oh and Bill Margins is poking Melissa Jaund in the records archive."

~~#~~

"It's funny, you know,"

A cloudless sky lay before them, outside the window, ushering in a bright, unusually hot day for third week of September. The others were already at breakfast, but the two of them sat on a windowsill in the dormitory Hermione had now moved in along with her former and again classmates, reducing the regular space per girl to about less than half of the usual.

There would be a party in the evening to celebrate both her birthday, down in the common room, with all her friends, the entire DA and Order but Mundungus – after dinner. Her parents would get to see Hogwarts for the first time. They would be arriving via Floo to the Hog's Head, just after lunchtime. She wanted it like that. McGonagall had agreed that a carriage would be sent to get them, and that she had altered the enchantments around the castle so they alone would see it like any other witch or wizard did. Hermione wanted them to really experience that. She herself would be waiting at the front gates to pick them up. Then she would lead them around the castle. Her parents were still light on their feet, so she could gladly expect them to put up with it. Then they would have dinner in the Great Hall together, and go upstairs for the party. But for now, she sat on the windowsill with her friend.

"I'd probably drive a car – have a big party as well, with all my friends from grammar school – maybe even kick my parents out of it – but instead, they're going to be the first Muggles ever that will see Hogwarts. They'll be famous among wizards – I – I didn't even think about that when I asked McGonagall whether it's possible."

"I think, they'd be fine with it. Let them share some of the fame with you. After all, you only have one pair of real parents."

His education had made a lasting impression. Not only on Ginny, as she knew. Hermione was glad to have something like a sister now, and could tell that Ginny was too.

"And they're not the first."

"What do you mean?"

"They're not the first, Hermione. I know of at least one more who had gotten to see it. But – but that's completely unimportant now.", she thought quite differently the moment she got to hear that, but was left no chance to discuss further into the matter. "Why're you not going for Christmas NEWTs?"

"I – ", Hermione sighed, "I think, it was – mainly because I'd like to use the library without having to ask for special permission, for as long as possible."

For a moment, they just looked at each other, then burst into bright laughter. It felt good to laugh. Especially Ginny hadn't laughed much ever since the end of the war and seeing her like that, was like fireworks in Hermione's heart.

"Um, Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"Do you – do you scream?"

"Er – what do you mean?", both grins vanished.

"Well, I don't know how to say that – it's just – well, Ron's totally quiet.", Ginevra raised an eyebrow like she had never done before, but the way she did it looked alarmingly familiar, almost as if she wanted to tease her. "I – I mean, he's breathing, yes, but I just know when he's done when I get to see his face or when he finally crushes me – "

"Oh my god – you – you mean – ", Ginevra couldn't resist having another laugh, to the landscape outside though. "Not really. You know, with a house full of brothers, I learned to come quiet. Seems, it's some general family issue."

"Okay. That's good. I already thought there's something wrong with him. You know, Severus' been totally different."

"Groaning his soul out, I guess. And clutching his fingers into anything he can get hold of, making you glad he can still differ you from your surrounding and takes that instead. Okay, it's really turning me on, but it's also a bit frightening."

"Er – ", Hermione gaped at her as she still studied the hills.

"That's what Harry does."

"Really?", she aspirated.

"Yeah. Thought they'd be the same.", there was some rather tense pause. "Don't look at me like that. He said he's told you. No need to be so surprised."

"He told _you_?", Hermione blinked.

"No. _I_ told _him_. He didn't even need to confirm it. Well, he did, but it's been clear to me for years actually. They're so much alike. If I'd known first that James had been his brother, I would have thought differently though."

"When was that? When did you – "

Hermione listened closely to every word Ginny said, trying to summarise what exactly she knew, or perhaps might know which she herself didn't. But it seemed, he hadn't told Ginny any more than she had gotten to know. It appeared to be far less. By the end of her explanation, both their faces were washed with tears, and Ginny's neck supposedly stiff from not having turned her face off the window.

"Yes, you've lost a man you loved. But I've lost my father-in-law. And even though I've been addressing him like usual for more than half a year, he's been a father to me ever since he apologised for having slapped me. I've – I've lost – my second Dad – "

At last she couldn't fight it down anymore and gave in to her crying, shaking terribly with her forehead against the old rhombic pieces of glass. Hermione slid down and pulled her upper body away from it, into a tight embrace, while she cried silently with her.

~~#~~

"An'enn, 'e went aaaaall like – "

"` _I suppose, you should be questioning the education you received yourself, Professor. It appears to be rather old-fashioned_.´", Hermione recited for him, stunning Slughorn and her parents, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ron, the Patil twins, Flitwick, Harry and Ginevra; who belonged to those sitting on chairs in their corner, Ginevra on his lap; all other present Weasleys, Hagrid, McGonagall, Hannah and supposedly Draco and Luna alike – or at least they did a magnificent job at pretending. "` _I am though not a supporter of this stoner-revolution that is said to be happening beside us in the world of Muggles, but I daresay, while you seem to have been carried away by the one half of it, I was carried away by the other, and I by far prefer it above smoking Gilly_ weed _. Your book is outdated, wrong and deceptive, Sir. Live with it._ ´"

"Oho! But of course, 'e'd 'ave boasted abou' zissheek. Twenny poinss ta Gryffinnoor!", everyone laughed, not only because of his questionable ability to stand quite straight even though brandishing heavily. "Yessss. An'enn 'e threw in zat leaf – an' – poof!", Parvati shrieked and ducked away from the shower of whine that hit the red carpet beneath, where it would dry without leaving visible stains. "Oh – me bad, Miss Paddle. Din' mean ta. An' sssorry, whine. Never wanned ta kill ya eitha. Where was I? Ai yesssss, _poof_ – an' zat Potion was complete, ann hour before it should, an' todally perfffffect. Neva ssseen a better before.", he sighed mournfully now.

"What did you do then?", Harry asked, unable to stop himself from grinning.

"He's awarded him with ten points, but put him in Detention for the nasty words.", Draco meant. "Though that one never was recorded."

"Dear Horace didn't want to cast a slur on himself. Asking a third-year to give him tutoring in Potions was clearly a disgrace for our grand Master of Concoction.", Flitwick chuckled and rebooted the laughter that knocked down Slughorn's annoyed muttering.

Suddenly, there were green flames in the fireplace. All who saw them, either jumped back from them or made others turn. Momentarily, everyone was silent. Dean, closest to the gramophone, deadened it with his wand. A man with a moustache stepped out, in a long dark tartan robe, his look rather blank as he searched for someone. Ginevra kindly stood up and Harry dug his way through his friends, along with Kingsley.

"Good evening, Mr Robards.", he said calm when having come to halt by the sofa. "You are surely aware, that you are gatecrashing?"

"Indeed, indeed, Minister, but this is very urgent. Mr Potter, I would like you to see that.", he held a folder towards Harry, who didn't notice him swallow, but only stared at the top secret stamp on it after he had taken it in hands.

"What's that, Harry?", Hermione had joined them, but he impassively turned away from her, walked over to the window where no one stood, and opened the folder. "Harry?", her eyes travelled between his back and Robards who slightly loosened his dicky with his expression still illegible.

"How many guards?", said Harry, serious, and closed the folder, though did not turn.

"Twenty– ", Robards croaked and cleared his throat, "Twenty-seven. They were taken systematically, from behind, as it seems. Everyone has the same memory; they have been questioned separately. They were shushed with a cloth to their mouth and passed out seconds after. No one even saw a hand. They are currently scanned for preservation of evidence, though I am not putting much hope into that. No sound, no trace. A smooth work. They came and went, and nobody noticed it. And they must have been quick. All of the guards woke up almost simultaneously."

"Or they received precisely measured servings of a Sleeping Potion once they'd been made unconscious.", Harry meant.

"Or that. Yes.", Robards sighed. "The cell was locked with exactly the enchantments that had been prepared and four Dementors had obviously been no obstacle. They could have taken any other of the prisoners, but they only took him. When the guards checked, he was dead already. Assumingly an hour. And no one – noticed."

"Whom?", asked Kingsley. "Whom did they kill?", Robards took a deep breath, but Harry; still not turning from the window and Robards knowing that giving him the folder wouldn't have been necessary at all; answered the question, with an audible ire that was mixed with utter irony and even some complacency.

"Antonin Dolohov."

~~#~~


	64. Chapter 63 - Slumber Party

– Chapter 63 –

 **Slumber Party**

"Dolohov?", Hermione gasped.

"Yes.", Robards confirmed slackly. "I fear, I have to admit, this is the biggest rout the Auror Office has ever met with, Minister. I cannot express how devastated I am. Potter has seen it coming, and still, we were powerless. They simply overran us.", his voice became moaning and of a hissing demand as he tried to wind himself out of the dilemma. "I have had exceptional people under my command. I have been capturing many Death Eaters before they could breathe in another time, you know that yourself, Shacklebolt. But this is beyond my imagination. If they already get into the Ministry's high security cells as if we had invited them, I am afraid, we don't stand a chance."

"Well, then it's clear what we have to do.", Harry said definite, spun and went to the fireplace.

"Mr Potter – whatever it is, we shall forget for a moment that I am your superior. In this case you – you are in charge now. I – I leave it to you. So? What – "

"Thanks. And it's easy, isn't it?", he looked down at the folder in his hand, then at the orange flames.

"Harry,", it was Kingsley who spoke softly. "What is it, that the Aurors, that the Ministry, has to do in your opinion?"

"Yeah, mate.", Ron had slouched over as well, as if meaning to emphasise how pathetically tense the situation was. "What's it."

Harry took a very deep breath, all eyes in the common room piercing at him, drilling into his body like sharp needles, but he was oblivious. He only stared at the fire, and then, he scratched his neck in thoughts he knew to be irrelevant.

"We gotta let 'em do."

While he gave his then quick, cold answer, he lively swung his arm and everyone's breath got stuck, when the folder sailed into the fireplace, where the flames' deadly claws caught it, tearing the paper apart immediately, swallowing it without effort. In a split second, he got to get a glimpse on a body covered in loads of blood and a face he had seen so many times over the past years, torn, lifeless, and gone for good.

"Harry!", Hermione aspirated with a moan. "You – you burnt it! A mean of evidence! A Ministry document! You – you – "

"It's over.", he didn't lose his tone. "We're done. Case closed. In the night of September first, the Avengers have ultimately finished their work."

"Are you giving up, Harry?", Ron murmured.

"No.", he shook his head. "They're much more organised, precisely informed, working flawless – in short, they're better. I'm not giving up. I'm giving way. If they want justice, they can have it."

"What is this in your hand, Mr Potter?", Robards gargled.

"That?", Harry lifted it, "My wand."

"In the other.", his boss snorted.

"Oh – just a nice little copy,", he said casually. "For the wall of fame."

"Wall of – ?"

"Of course we're going on as usual. But if this means that I'm the one in charge, I want all documents regarding the case in my hands. Every teensy little bit, okay? We wait for them to do their job, give them some challenge like putting up guards again when they're knowingly going for another imprisoned, but we'll let them do. When they're gone, we collect evidence as usual, and keep everything off the media. We act as if they were always one step ahead; because they'll always be. I want the usual circle working on the case. They'll deliver everything to you, Mr Robards, and you pass it straight to me. End of story. Dean, turn back on the music."

A little hesitant, he did it though. It was odd, listening to the happy tune, when no one felt the urge for any kind of smile. Harry continued.

"Thanks. Now Kingsley, Draco, Luna, Ginevra, Hermione, you'll do the memory work."

"Memory work?", Ron chuckled.

"Mr Robards, please return to the Ministry."

"Memory work, Mr Potter?"

"Memory work. Alright, everyone go back into the position you were in before Mr Robards came in."

"Wait. No way. No!", Neville had understood, while Harry walked over to his chair, the photo and wand stuffed away. "I won't let you do that! We're friends – colleagues even!"

"Friends, yes. Colleagues, only partly. And well, you'll have to. I'm the Auror in charge of the case, and this is about national security. You'll have to let me do my work. Trust me, I will. And if it means that I'll have to put the Imperius Curse on you that you breathe like you had before.", Harry sat down and waved Ginevra to his lap. "I asked my boss for secrecy, he broke it by getting here. You think you lack influence, Mr Robards? Well, then I'll show you how to have it. Ron, Hermione, get back here. Thanks."

"What will happen if you've modified our memories?", Parvati asked.

"You should know best.", snapped Hermione, standing where she had been, and reached over for the needle that she sat back so they would have half a minute to compose.

"Great.", Harry smirked.

"Me?", moaned Parvati.

"Well, you don't know, don't you? There you have it. That's what will happen. You won't know what has happened. You won't feel a change.", said Hermione and held her wand ready at her side, in a way no one would see her slip it back where she had had it.

"Good night, Mr Robards.", Harry had his arms laid around his girlfriend again.

"Very well, Mr Potter.", that one sighed and threw some Floo powder into the fire. "You really seem to know what you are doing. Good night then, and thank you."

"Any time, Sir."

"British Ministry of Magic, Gawain Robards' office.", he spoke clearly and was gone; the flames became normal a second later.

"Everyone get themselves ready.", Kingsley said, his wand as hidden as Hermione's, Ginevra's, Luna's and Draco's. "This is an order. Do as I say.", it seemed easier for them to obey, now that it came from the Minister himself.

"You won't obliviate me, will you?", Ron moaned.

"Don't be silly, Ronald.", Hermione huffed and listened closely.

"On my count?", Luna meant.

"Alright. On yours."

"Seven, er – four, three, two, one,"

Soft green whirls shot around, barely visible, all within a split second. It had been easy to divide without telling one another who would modify whose memory. Now those who had laughed, suddenly felt the need to laugh again, and everybody else continued their conversations just where they had stopped. Even Slughorn muttered. In the distraction of the laughter around, Ginevra turned her smile to Harry's played grin that became real when she kissed him. Hermione and Ron couldn't hold honesty either. But Ginevra broke off after some seconds, with his face in hands.

"Harry James Potter.", she said, just loud enough for only Ron and Hermione to hear it above Slughorn's and Flitwick's friendly argue and more laughter. "You're probably the craziest, stupidest and most suicidal bloke I've ever met. And that means something, because I've grown up in a house full of such.", Ron threw Hermione a glance and she returned it knowingly. "And I love them all. But they're my brothers and my Dad. I naturally can't and would never want. But you're none of them and therefore hopefully say yes. So I think, I should just ask you what I've been planning to ask you for more than six years."

"Keep it short, sis,", Ron threw in, causing everyone in vicinity to get to notice that something was going on.

"Shut up, bro.", she countered, but Harry and her were the only ones not to chuckle. "Alright. I'll start that again, but _I'll keep it short_.", Ginevra breathed in deeply, studying every single pore of Harry's face that was so unlike his father's in general, but she knew the similarities well. "Harry James Potter. You're probably the craziest, stupidest, most suicidal, _most charming and sexiest_ bloke I've ever met. And that means something, because I've _grown up in a house full of such_.", Ron just shook his head. "And I love them all. But they're my brothers and my Dad and not nearly as handsome.

"Hey!", Ron pretested.

"I naturally can't and would never want. But you're none of them and therefore hopefully _really_ say yes. So I think, I definitely ask you now what I've been planning to ask you for more than six years and two minutes: do you want to become a Weasley?"

They all were holding their breath for his answer, taken aback by her step. McGonagall's hand laid on her hovering chest, Slughorn still had troubles seeing them, Hermione's parents were smiling with watery eyes like her, Ron had his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot with his eyes searching the floor, Hannah pulled Draco closer, Luna was seesawing with a broad smile, Hagrid's breathing was the loudest and Kingsley looked equally proud to be there. Parvati meanwhile held her sister's hand and Flitwick supported himself on the side-rest of Padma's wheelchair. Neville, Dean and Seamus were simply staring with anticipation and the rest of Ginevra's family was the same, with the exception of her mother, whose hands that were pressed onto her mouth, got splashed with tears. Harry, looked straight into Ginevra's glistening, bright brown eyes that were her mother's.

"Actually,", he cleared his throat with a cough, "I'd like to keep my name.", nothing happened. "But you know, I really like your place and I love you more than I can tell with any words that have ever been said by men, so – yes! I'd absolutely love to become a Weasley!", Harry grinned, grabbed her face as well, and they continued kissing under thundering cheers. "But one thing – ", he now slightly pushed her off, deadening the applause, whistles and other statements of joy, trying to imitate Molly's voice, "You first finish your education!"

The roar of laughter that followed, had no equal. But they didn't bother. They only kissed another time, dwelling in their happiness, all thoughts about avengers and murders and justice momentarily locked out, far away.

No one saw it. No one felt it. No one but a fair-haired girl that received no attention. With her ever so absent smile, she studied the window that opened into the soft, warm, starry night, and closed again.

~~#~~

Muggles had a strange way of creating themselves a world. It was loud, stank, and made even the endless sea of stars above the roofs of cities like London disappear from fear of their electric lights. So the sky was glowing, but only a few tiny dots sparkled up there, strong enough to fight their way through for the eye to see in this strangely warm night in the second half of September.

Silence. Only in the distance, this loud world of Muggles could be heard, the sounds of cars and busses and trucks and trains filling the air around a seeming pool of calm, rising into the sky, a constant whizzing – not as loud as when the sun was awake, but loud enough to be heard, loud enough to overpower a sleeping pair's breathing.

The man leaned behind a pile of woven baskets that had been left outside. No one would take them. People were too honest. And the man, they gave shelter. In his arms, a girl with dirty brown hair. His niece was sleeping, like him, thankful that the night was warm and they could sleep outside without freezing. As they slept in peace, they had no knowledge of what was going on around the corner, where a pair of hungry eyes had spotted something shiny, something golden peering from the front pocket of the man's raddled robe: in a different pace than their breathing or their heartbeats, the pocket watch that once belonged to his grandfather, was ticking. The only thing of value he possessed and the only thing that remembered him of the family he had once had, the family only he and his slumbering young niece were left of. But that, the eyes so filled with hunger, down at the corner, did not know, did not care for.

Carefully he snuck on, checking his surrounding, but they were the only ones to be out. All was quiet, all was asleep. His silent shoes searched their way across the old cobblestones, any sound too much. Closer, constantly like the ticking of the clock, he approached them in the bluish grey semi-dark. Only feet away, he studied them, thinking of a way to not be noticed. There was one, he found himself performing seconds later. Slow, like the pair's breath, with trained routine, the watch began to move according to how he directed his wand. Like a conductor, the stick had the watch in control, gently, steadily, pulling it from the pocket.

Suddenly there were eyes. Big pale eyes that shimmered in the lights of London, reflecting the glowing haze above. Both frozen, they stared at each other as their breathing became panicking. The girl sat up with a gasp, waking her uncle by it, who sought for the source of the disturbance. Right when he spotted it, the other man backed away, shocked that it hadn't worked out, that he had been caught. But the feet that spun, weren't fast enough. They though hurried down the lane, but a smaller pair was quicker, catching up. At last, golden stars were dancing. The chain of the watch jerked as he ran, the girl at his heels, only the sound of his shoes clattering in the night. She had none. Yet she chased him, further away from her uncle, until they reached a corner where a number of stairs led into another alley.

Running for his life, even though he possessed a wand and the girl didn't, but obviously having forgotten about that fact, he hurtled into it, staggered down and stumbled over by the touch that interrupted his movement. His fingers clung to it, so did hers, but gravity won and the watch slipped his then sweaty hand as his face came closer to the ground. Though for some peculiar reason, he was gone.

Confused, panting heavily, the girl stared at where he had been. Even at her young age she knew what Disapparating looked like. The thief hadn't. He had simply gone, swallowed by their surrounding. Huffing as hard, her uncle had caught up and flung his arms around her immediately. His relief that she was still there, left his lungs with a last puffing sound before he tried to calm her and himself down. She had turned in his arms and started sobbing into his dirty clothes, her great-granduncle's watch held securely by her small fingers. Then they were gone themselves. He had Apparated them out, almost noiseless.

Still hanging there, caught in mid-fall, the second man breathed out similar sounding relief, though it was far from it in meaning. The strong arms lifted him to his feet and for the first time he got to see more of his saviour than just trousers and shoes that had almost melted with the dark, narrow staircase. When he looked up at the taller man, he found him to be slightly transparent against the sky that shone through from behind the short roof which topped the first feet of the stairs. But the other man's face was covered from him, by a tam that was pulled deep down. In addition, he had his head lowered so that not even his mouth could be seen. Over his leather coat that now became more solid, rested some bundles of silvery hair.

"Stealing from the poor?", very quiet, just enough to be heard, the stranger growled. "Sunken quite deep, haven't we?"

"Who – who are you – ", stammered the thief, not much louder, trying to get a glimpse past that tam, but failed as much as he failed to fully figure out why this voice sounded so familiar.

"The guy that just saved your neck from breaking. You run like a girl, by the way. Worse than that kid that nearly killed you."

"What the – ", he found some small bag being forced into his now empty hand.

"That's from a friend. He's exaggerating a bit, if you ask me. But you're not going to ask me anyway. So take it, for Heaven's sake, and do something wise with your life, Dung."

"How'd you – "

"Know your name?", the stranger dropped a chuckle. "Everyone knows your name, dork. Now get off, you bloody coward. Get off and be a man who's _learning_."

"Who – ", he tried again, but the other man limped some stairs down, shortly lifted his tam, turned on the spot and Disapparated without the faintest sound.

Perplexed, dumbfounded to his smallest bones, he stared at where that notable face had vanished. It took him some minutes to compose himself, to grasp the happened. He didn't understand how it was possible and what he had actually got himself into, but when his trembling hands opened the bag that could have kept about three heavy apples, he got to see something that was even more familiar to him, though if rare lately, but already in that moment, he looked at something like that was, with different eyes now.

~~#~~

Having spent the rest of the night with Ginevra alone in the Room of Requirement on an absolutely adorable canopy bed, had been one of the best things he had ever experienced at Hogwarts. Though his limbs; not only; were aching with every tiny move, his mind spun wildly and his throat was as dry as though he had eaten up the entire Sahara within an hour. The goblet still stood on the bedside table by his glasses and he sat up and reached for it, finding it disturbingly empty of course. He rubbed his eyes, put on the glasses and stared at the golden dish in his hand, forcing himself to think of his mother. Transfiguring wasn't that far from conjuring, or was it? His wand laid somewhere on the other side of the room, somewhere in one part of the mess and Ginevra's was stored under the pillow, in a place he wouldn't reach it without waking her. If he wanted to get his own, he would have to accept pain.

 _If you manage to understand; and I mean not only accept, but understand, imagine and, most of all, believe; that everything is solely made of energy, arranged in the most wondrous and varied ways, you can do nearly everything_.. With all the things he had seen so far, it felt easiest to believe he could create water. After all, it was only for his momentary welfare, not an entire sand castle. So he simply thought of that memory of his that had been erased in ways at the graveyard, but had been projected into his own mind by watching it, and waved his hand over the goblet. Much to his surprise, it filled with clear water. He chuckled and drained it. Ginevra stirred. His eyes were on her immediately, even before he had completely drank it all up, and therefore spilled quite a bit down his bare chest, choking.

"Harry?", she was suddenly wide awake and sat as straight as him, with her wand drawn from under the white cosiness so quick he already saw himself be impaled by it, but it didn't happen.

"Don't – worry – ", he coughed, "I'm – I'm fine – "

"Sounds slightly different – ", Ginevra moaned, but he waved his hand over the goblet another time and poured everything down his throat successfully then.

"It's nothing.", Harry laughed. "I just beat my mother – and failed next second, that's all."

"Okay?", she meant, still with concern, but he kissed it away.

"How are you?", he asked softly.

"Like I've been playing Quidditch all night, thanks. And hungry."

"Same. Er – you just reminded me – she wasn't kidding us, was she?"

"With what? And who?"

"Luna. When she said you're taking a NEWT in Flying."

"No, she was right."

"That's possible?"

"Yes."

"But it's for first-years only – "

"You can take it as an elective, but it's harder work than in the regular subjects."

"Meaning?"

"In addition to theoretical and practical exam, you're bound to write a Thesis to it and as you're only allowed to write one Thesis, no matter how crazy you are, you can take just one elective subject along the regular. Hermione's been beside herself when she heard that and tried to convince McGonagall that she'll write two, but she gave up when McGonagall slammed the ancient regulations onto her desk in front of Hermione's shining pink face."

"Any idea what the exam will be like?", Harry snickered.

"The practical won't be too hard for me. I'll have to fly a parkour with tricky obstacles, but I won't know what it'll look like until the actual exam. I have three tries then and the average will be the mark. Theory is Quidditch history and general theory of flying and brooms. I'll have to work that out on my own."

"And what will you write your Thesis about?"

"Broomless flight."

"No.", Harry chuckled. "You mean, like – "

"Yes, like he had been able to do it. But it's a surprise. Don't tell Hermione. She doesn't know any specifics of that NEWT. I want her to believe I'm writing about – well, Quidditch history."

"That's cheating, you know?"

"Not at all. I won't let her help me. And anyway, she'll be too busy with her own Thesis."

"And in addition you're going for Charms, Defence and Transfiguration?"

"And Potions."

"Potions too?", Harry frowned.

"Are you assaying to question my abilities as a Potioneer?", she said that with a snarling but soft tone, though punctuated pronunciation, raised an eyebrow of her own and gave him a stare so familiar it made him huff.

"I'm fine with imitations of Fleur, but that's only painful.", Harry moaned and she dropped an approving sigh and smirk. "Okay. So – we'll have breakfast in here or in the Great Hall?"

"You can't have breakfast in here, Harry. Even Ron knows that now.", Ginevra murmured, but Harry just grinned and pulled up the blanket so she was covered. "What're you – "

"Kreacher!"

"Oh crap!", she startled and winced twice, second, at the sound of the Elf Apparating.

"Good morning, Master H-", he started with a bow, but the rest of the name was drowned in gargling and he preferred to watch Regulus' locket dangling. "Whatisithatuwish?"

"Seems, he just fell in love with me.", Ginevra snickered under her breath. "There's not going to be a ball, Kreacher. No need for that."

"Miss is very funny, yes, yes, utterly funny.", Kreacher grunted. "Kreacher does not understand what the filthy Blood-Traitor is talking about, but he well grasped – "

"Kreacher!", it was Harry again, his mood switched within a second.

"It's okay.", meant Ginevra. "Don't take him so – _siriusly_ – ", she could well bear that glare of his. "Breakfast please, Kreacher."

"Kreacher does not take orders from the dirty – "

"Well, then bring me to a bathroom, if you're so disgusted.", Ginevra snarled.

"And she said `please´.", Harry added. "But I think you'll have to take orders from her now. We're engaged. She's going to be my wife. You'll better get used to that idea."

"Is that so?", Kreacher shortly raised his head for some inches to look at them but lowered it immediately again. "If it is Master Harry's wish,"

"Yes, it is my wish."

"Then Kreacher will continue. What is it that you wish to have for breakfast?"

"You know us, Kreacher.", Ginevra said. "Improvise. _Without_ adding anything that might either harm us or not approximate our taste.", Kreacher bowed even deeper, but before the locket could touch the floor, he was gone loudly.

"Continue?", Harry turned to her.

"He's – he's been ordered to listen to me before."

"By whom?"

"The mother of Edwin the Hunk from Uranus.", Ginevra murmured, presenting him with a very disturbingly angry look.

"What?"

"Should have known they hadn't told you that,", she mumbled and stretched.

"Ginevra?"

"Forget it.", a sigh escaped her when her arms sank, one of them with a lot of weight on Harry's groin and even though cushioned by the blanket, he gasped. "Sorry."

~~#~~

They held some fascinating aura. Comforting, guarding, obeying, defending – a great weapon, shield and friend – those cushions. Especially when they were red and quadratic – dark red velvet covered – tightly stuffed, but cosy – simply magnificent objects.

One of such resting on her lap, wrapped longingly in her arms, she sat with her legs crossed on that sofa and stared out of the window, past her mother who stood by it with her back on her.

"I can understand why you love this place. It's really beautiful here.", the woman sighed deeply. "I know you are happy with Ron – but – "

"Didn't I say I won't discuss the matter,", Hermione huffed.

"You did. But remembering what has been between you – of course it is hard for you. Please don't swallow it down so – Hermione, I can hardly imagine what you went through, but please talk to me. Don't lock yourself in."

"I don't lock myself in, Mum. It is the way it is."

"And those murders – please don't obsess over them – "

"Don't get me wrong, but you're mistaking me for Harry. I'm not obsessed. I'm angry. Well, of course I don't mind that this _someone_ gets them out of the way, and I really don't care how it's happening, but I'm angry with myself."

"Why?", her mother turned around.

"Because I've said something I just can't forgive myself for and I think it's partly a reason for the murders."

"Oh Hermione. What would you have said to – "

"It's complicated. I can't tell you."

"I'm your mother!"

"I know. That's especially why I can't tell you. You'd probably understand me."

She fiercely sat the cushion onto the sofa, slipped off and left the common room through the portrait hole with only her pyjama pants and a strappy top on, her beaded bag jumping at her hip.

~~#~~

When he noticed her stare, he realised what the statue would have felt like if it had been a real winged horse. He had never been up on that corridor, but turning his head past Ginevra, he saw a mirroring statue at the other end, being a Thestral. Now he knew why the girl was here. He folded the map and stored it securely in his pouch. They had gone looking for her on Ginevra's request and eventually found her there, right in the middle of the half open corridor, by one of the arches. She stood behind someone's back. That someone sat on the sill, quite dangerously, wearing only light clothes like Ginevra, while Luna strangely was in her uniform, even though it was a Sunday. Much to Harry's relief, she secured Hermione by the shoulders. Holding hands, they approached them.

"Good morning!", Luna sang and Harry was even more relieved that she held her – Hermione had jerked so terrible at the words that she might have fallen to death otherwise.

"Morning.", Ginevra chuckled. "Here you are. What're you doing here?"

"I asked her as well.", Hermione sighed. "I know why _I_ am here, but she didn't tell me what she's doing – "

"It's obvious, isn't it?", Harry meant and their looks followed his nod on the Thestral statue, making them all laugh eventually.

"You're quite narrow minded, Harry.", Luna smiled, killing the mood in a second. "But only sometimes. That's okay. It helps not losing one's head.", Harry only eyed her, but decided not to argue. "Ginny, Hermione, I think we should be going now."

"Going?", Hermione asked.

"You'll see,", she helped Hermione back inside and took both girls by the hands, who were rather confused about her decision. "Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye?"

"I don't think we'll be seeing us again in some weeks. After all you will have to return home today for your work tomorrow. And your NEWTs are held at the Ministry."

"Er – yeah – but – where're you going now?"

"Oh, we're having a little woman-to-woman talk. They badly need it. See you!", she hopped off, forcing the others to come with her, though having a hard time doing so.

"And me?"

"You'll be fine here, I think. Enjoy the landscape!"

All Harry could do was chuckling disbelievingly. The moment they were gone around the corner, he noticed that the Thestral had become the horse from the other side. He turned his head and saw it standing in its place. Curious, he did a few steps. They must be swapping appearance when he passed the exact middle of the corridor. Shaking his head on this oddity of magic, he looked outside, over the lake, the soft breeze blowing through his loose T-shirt and long hair and the cool stone tiles made his naked toes crouch below his long pyjama pants without his notice. It was actually really beautiful from up there. But some senses tingled in the back of his head. There was something. Some thing he had caught a glimpse on, in his subconsciousness while studying the statues.

Slowly and in thoughts, he turned for the corridor wall. Between two of the few doors, right behind him, hung a lone large portrait. He slandered towards the empty big frame that only contained some dark tapestry and a black velvet armchair with a white, oval-bulb standard lamp behind. Under the frame was a sign attached to the wall. Harry read.

 _Professor Maggot Wimble_

 _If you should happen to meet her, please remind her that she has her own portrait._

 _Thank you._

Maggot Wimble, he thought consciously. If he had been blessed with such a name, he wouldn't want to find himself associated with it either, no matter if his portrait was hanging in a completely deserted corridor far away from daily business.

"I really 'ave no' tha slightes' idea, why she is constan'ly absen' from 'is canvas."

Harry jumped in shock. The standard lamp had spoken with a deep, soft, very familiar voice. When he looked up, he noticed that what he had thought to be the lamp head, was actually the head of a pale man, wearing robes so black they didn't differ from the rest of the painting at first glance. He sat with his legs and arms crossed.

"'T's go' an absolutely magnificen' view.", Harry shortly threw his head back to the open arches. "Rumour 'as it, ye've become a very enthusiastic Auror, drivin' yer colleagues, friends an' even yer superior inter madness?"

"Er – "

"Well, I 'aven' seen tha' comin', ter be dishones'.", he sighed, boredly studying his fair fingernails that had only become visible when he had retrieved his hand from beneath his armpit. "Bu' o' course ye wonder why ye find me sittin' in 'er chair.", given the setting, Harry actually didn't. "There are sum thin's in human understandin', in 'eir ways o' thinkin', tha's ever riddled me.", he sighed again and his look travelled wearily over the landscape outside. "Fer example, why 'angin' one o' tha mos' inspirin' studen's an' teachers Hogwarts ever 'ad, in a lone corridor wit' probably tha grandes' view among its kind, while she was blind from birth. Why paintin' 'er in fron' o' ugly dark perse tapes'ry an' inter a black armchair when she loved tha imagination o' tha brightes' colours as much as Luna Lovegood fancies wearin' 'em."

"I – I don't know, Sir.", Harry meant sadly, studying his equal expression between his bushes of black hair that, if taking a closer look, stood off in rather awkward ways at some points – not knowing why it pleased him so much that the painter had taken this unusual request into account.

"Or why decidin' ter graduate after a year wit'ou' education fer an; in eviden' cases; truly back-breakin' job while wishin' ter develop magical skills o' years o' trainin' wit'in two weeks. Or why annoyin' one's friends be tryin' ter squeeze every bi' o' infermation on one's former teacher ou' o' their brains as though they were Alamneda buds? Why tormentin' an ol' man's portrai' fer thin's 'e's been fergiven long ago wit'ou' 'is own knowledge? Bu' o' course, tha las' seems such a likely thin' ter do, such a grand example fer tha crawlin' resen'fulness tha's infested yer bloodline."

"You forgave him, Sir?", Harry, though stunned, could still and ever clearly remember his words about letting the dead rest.

"Why, yes,", he sang absentmindedly but his tone became more forceful with every sentence, "Even before 'e looked down at me wit' 'is hungry eyes o' believin' justice, tha' despicable stare o' loathin' fer wha' 'e'd once considered ter care fer as though 'e were a father. Bu' there is one thin', 'e will never understan'. 'E did no' when 'e was still alive, an' naturally will never now. One who 'as never been a paren', who 'as never held 'eir child, 'eir own flesh an' blood, will never be able ter understan'. If 'e 'ad fel' fer me like a real father fel' fer 'is son, 'e would 'ave asked me. 'E would 'ave questioned me alone in a room, rather than chainin' me up agains' a pillar beneath hordes o' hungry Dementors, watchin' Macnair unleashin' 'is magical rope o' agony on me wit' all tha' disgus' 'bou' considered treachery. A father would 'ave listened, would 'ave tried ter fergive."

"Barty Crouch didn't forgive his son either.", Harry remembered.

"Bartemius Crouch fergave 'is son tha momen' 'e saw 'im sittin' in tha' cell, tha madness brimmin' over 'is lids. 'E fergave 'is son, fer it was no' young Barty's faul' tha' 'e 'imself 'ad chosen 'is career over 'is family, an' therefore 'is son sough' shelter in tha wron' rows. 'E saw 'is mistakes, bu' it was too late. Tha damage was irreversible. Bartemius suffered enough. Bu' well, they migh' be very much alike. I 'ave spen' mos' o' me time since I 'ave been hung on a wall, wit' wanderin' tha castle or sittin' 'ere rather. Fer me own ears an' Minerva, if she 'ad been presen'. Whenever 'e 'as gotten a glimpse on me, 'e started cryin' 'is lungs ou'. Maybe 'e 'as really come ter develop feelin's o' a father an' ye 'ave achieved tha' 'e's gotten aware o' it at las'. Ye should 'ave a word wit' 'im. 'Cause, whenever I try, mine ge' drowned by wails."

"But he's abused me!"

"Now did 'e?", the ferocious undertone had almost worn off.

"He's abused us both.", Harry snorted.

"Then ye should rather seek fer Horace. 'E migh' be able ter tell ye all 'bou' people who make a heavy weather o' segregatin' abuse from care. 'T's a strange phenomenon among sum, tha' when 'ey come ter like a person an' 'is person returns 'ese feelin's, they try ter bind 'em close fer 'eir own benefi', 'eir own comfor', an' tha longer 'is comfor' las's, tha more 'ey ferge' 'bou' 'eir initial intentions an' consider exploitin' 'em fer any tiny bi' o' profi' from tha relationship. It may take 'em years, if no' decades, ter discover 'eir own failure. An' then 'ey find 'emselves at a funeral, 'eir dear one gone, an' all chance on speech ferlorn. Too ashamed, 'e broke contac', an' 'is dear one married, 'ad a son, made all tha mistakes one o' their kind could make, an' finalised tha parcel wit' a rope."

Real tears fell from the dark eyes, almost touchable. They closed and his head sank to his chest as his fingers clutched one another. With a deep, inhaling breath as if he had dived up to the surface of a lake of those tears, his head rushed up again, but he wouldn't look at Harry yet.

"As if it was a solution. As if flushin' down 'is remainin' years would brin' those times back. Bu' I never tried – never dared – maybe it does, I dunno – "

"It doesn't, Sir.", Harry answered him honest. "I've been drunk once in my life. That was just a week after the battle. They told me, Luna had to restore Arthur's barn. It seems, I turned the place upside down and was close to set it on fire before Ginevra could stun me after I punched her in the face, drag me upstairs and bind me to the bed. I woke up all stiff and with a huge head. I don't remember anything I did and I've felt worse than before, though they hadn't even told me yet then what I'd done. Okay, Slughorn's rather more cheerful, and worst, grumpy, but I don't think, any pain can be big enough that I'll do that again. Ginevra's looked terrible; and her Mum said Draco had done a magnificent job on restoring her face even. She forgave me, but I think I'll never forgive myself for that.", his tears literally stopped flowing, but Harry felt some of his own damming up.

"Then ye 'ave a very good exemplary story fer those who dun' understan' why sum people better no' touch a drop o' alcohol."

"Really?", Harry chuckled angrily. "Telling everyone I've punched my girlfriend when I was drunk? I don't think they'll like me much then."

"'T's a side o' ye, an' there is a simple method ter preven' it from showin'. Me own father 'ad known bes' 'bou' such, though also rather too late."

"Rather too late?", asked Harry, remembering the boy that had sat crouched up against the wall.

"Too late fer me mother ter know 'e 'ad no' 'ad a single sip after 'e'd lef' us, bu' no' too late fer me."

"So you met him again?", he regretted the question the moment he saw him blinking heavily.

"I me' 'im – jus' in time. 'E suffered from a malign glioma. I 'ope ye know wha' tha' means."

To his own surprise, he did. But this knowledge, this sudden silence, a silence no one could appreciate, made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't describe. He wanted to end it, wished it to be over, as fast as it had come, but he didn't know how, didn't find words. Only memories that made him ashamed of himself. Then it ended, much to Harry's surprise, with a smile. A warm, gentle smile, directly at him. He could do nothing but stare at it.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks.", Harry aspirated.

"D'ye know wha' fer?", he received a languid frown.

"Er – no."

"Yer engagemen'."

"Oh – well – thanks, yes.", Harry chuckled eventually. "She's totally beaten me."

"'Er proposal migh' even become a legend. Tha entire castle's talkin' 'bou' it."

"Really?", Harry smirked. "Didn't know."

"After tha years ye've spen' 'ere,"

"I should, yes. It's quite predictable that such things spread the moment they happen. I think I should be prepared for receiving a new song from Peeves."

"Qui'e likely.", Severus smiled.

"Er – you still haven't answered me a question, Sir."

"Which would be?"

"How – how you could see me under my cloak.", his smile transformed to a big grin into space for some moments. "That's not an answer,"

"Wha' is tha secre' be'ind wandless magic?"

"Er – I – ", unavoidably, Hermione's voice echoed in his head. "A – a strong mind – "

"Yes."

"And what's that got to do with – "

"Antioch wasn' tha only ter be verse in Wandlore. All three shared 'eir enthusiasm fer all ways o' magic, bu' in tha end, 'ey focused on 'eir very own targe's. Tha Cloak 'as seen four kin's o' powerful an' undetec'able enchan'men', all cas' on it wit' a wand, naturally. Tergether 'ey make tha cloak wha' it is, `unbeatable´. Firs',", he began to count on his fingers, "A very powerful additional Disillusionmen' Charm. One o' tha mos' powerful 'istory 'as seen. 'T's, second, strengthened by an Unbreakable Charm, which also affec's tha material, mos'ly 'air o' Demiguise, which are creatures tha' can make 'emselves invisible."

"Thought it's made of something like that. Hagrid's told me about them."

"Yes. Third, it 'olds a Secrecy Charm, jus' like tha' which lies on every Mokeskin Pouch. An' fourth, a Bloodline Curse."

"Curse?"

"No' all curses are stringen'ly bad. 'T's a matter o' tha poin' o' view."

"Sure.", Harry chuckled and sat down on the cool floor, looking up to him with boding – and hope – of a rather long and thorough explanation to come.

"I think, I should star' wit' tha Secrecy Charm, which is in ways, also connected ter tha' curse. Tha 'abi' o' a Mokeskin Pouch is, tha' it'll only gran' its righ'ful owner access, wit' a small exception. Tha owner o' tha pouch, is tha maker. Be sellin' one, tha maker explicitly allows tha buyer ter use it in tha same manner. So those who will be able ter use it, are tha new owner an' tha maker. Tha' is where tha curse comes in, a sligh'ly diff'ren' one though, tha' is a side effec' o' tha Secrecy Charm. As lon' as tha righ'ful owner; which means, tha maker; is alive, no one bu' tha two can fully use tha pouch. Should tha maker die however, tha ownership passes on ter tha person who 'as been granted ownership. They then can allow everyone access ter tha pouch 'ey wish. Bu' those on tha other 'and, canno' pass on any ownership. Could ye follow me so far?", he leant his head on his right arm at the side-rest of the armchair.

"I think so, yes."

"Tha cloak works similar. Tha owner can gran' everyone access they wish ter. Those can thenceforth use tha cloak whenever 'ey need it, bu' canno' invite anyone under it wit'ou' tha owner's permission."

"So that's also why those Death Eaters couldn't summon it? Because I didn't allow them?"

"Exac'ly. An' because tha charms are undetech'able.", he noted.

"Yes. So if I should pass the cloak on – and die – "

"No."

"Sure. The Bloodline Curse, right? I'd have to pass it on to one of my children."

"Yes."

"Then, if I shouldn't have children – and die – it's useless – "

"Furthermore, it would wit'er."

"But – but I didn't receive the cloak directly – Dumbledore kept it – can – can a person granted custody, pass it on after the owner's death?"

"No. Albus was never allowed more than ter use it. Tha momen' James died, tha cloak passed on ter 'is closes'."

"So it already belonged to me?", it disturbed him to find the portrait snickering.

"Almos'. I believe, ye know tha tale thoroughly be now?"

"Yes.", Harry said slightly angry for he had to repeat himself unnecessarily. "It has to be passed on from parent to child. Directly. The curse – "

"Yes."

"But then – "

"Ye know tha answer, Harry. Ye 'ave received enough hin's, I take it. I give ye all tha time ye need ter sor' 'em.", Harry sighed, crossed his legs and let his head fall into his right palm, staring at the wall ahead, trying to act as though he actually hadn't figured yet.

"It passed on to his closest. He had gotten it from his mother or father. They were dead before; I saw them in the Mirror of Erised. I saw them – all – ", unsure whether his brain produced the image, he suddenly seemed to remember every person that had stood there behind Lily and James; his eyes turned back upwards. "Can it go back in the bloodline?"

"I dun' think so."

"Right – then – who was – who was his closest, if I – ", the answerer really was there, in his head, built around a wooden casket with a number of folders that contained a big amount of newspaper articles, even though it seemed hard to believe, but on the other hand, it didn't. "That's why – ", he aspirated, studying the position of his arm, finding it so similar, so much alike. "That's why you fell for one and the same girl – that's why she loved you both equally – you – ", his head raised, while his arm though remained in place, understanding that he had no choice but to accept the truth.

"Hmm?"

"You were the new owner of the cloak! You nicked it from Dumbledore! You faked his handwriting and placed it under the tree! He never knew how much you cared, he was too obsessed. He wouldn't have passed it on, would he? He would have kept it, but you made sure the bond wouldn't break, the only way to save the cloak – was to pass it on to its rightful owner – he was too blinded by his greed to see it, but he understood. He told me he didn't need a cloak to become invisible. He could perform a Disillusionment Charm himself. He only kept it for the sake of it, but you didn't let him – you just couldn't – you were to pass it on, for your – for your brother – "

"I knew ye weren' as dumb as ye unfrock yerself sum'times.", Harry didn't want to argue on that smile he gave him, he wanted to carry on.

"So I'm right? You – you were poor – the Potters were rich – the – the article didn't say that Samantha and Matthew had become parents – it just said that they now had a son – they – adopted him! Because your parents didn't have enough means to care for two children?"

"Sadly, yes."

"His birthday was the day he got adopted – ", Harry croaked. "Your mother gave him the cloak, so she could give him at least one protection?"

"Yes. She gave 'im tha cloak early, an' tha Potters 'ad kep' it safe, locked away 'til 'is eleventh birthday, never touchin' it."

"But why could you see me.", Harry persistently returned to his initial question. "It can't be just because you were a former owner. Dumbledore didn't really own it. Moody didn't own it, but the eye could see past. Mrs Norris – "

"Mrs Norris canno' see pas' it. She merely senses tha presence o' a person. Tha magic on Alastor's eye, is very powerful, created long after Ignotus' demise, be wizards who were quite equal ter 'im in powers they din' glorify however. Well, Ignotus din' either. 'E was a quiet one, like Cadmus. Antioch was loud enough fer both o' 'em. Tha clue is, all three were very full o' 'emselves, challengin' tha world, darin' 'eir equals ter reveal 'emselves. Antioch naturally fell firs'. Cadmus was beaten be loss 'e couldn' cope wit', an' Ignotus be age. 'E accepted tha' 'e 'adn' been beaten by anyone tha' would stand up ter face 'im, 'e accepted 'is victory over tha livin', bu' no' over life itself an' passed on 'is cloak, after 'e'd spoken tha curse on it so it would fall in no other 'ands than 'is noble family's."

"So – ", considered Harry, "If he would be beaten at last, if one would be able to perform more powerful magic, the cloak would – reveal itself?"

"Tha' was 'is idea, I think, an' it seems it was successfully implemented."

"Does that mean, if anyone could perform a greater Disillusionment Charm than he did, they would see whoever is under the cloak?"

"Yes."

"But – that would mean that Voldemort – no!", it dawned on him. "He – he – the wand!", Harry panted as though he had ran across the world to figure out all that. "He used a wand to make himself invisible! Dumbledore – he didn't! He didn't need to! That's why he could see me! The Charm was placed on the Cloak with a wand! Wandless Magic! That's the solution! What is the secret – a stronger mind than Ignotus'! His match! The one who mastered him!", satisfied with the bright smile he got himself, he laughed eventually.

"I am glad ter see tha' ye in'erited sum o' yer paren's' brains, even though yer talents were no' as promoted durin' yer childhood."

"What do you think. Did I do the right thing? Regarding the Avengers?"

"Tha righ' thin', Harry.", Severus sighed. "Wha's tha righ' thin'. Did I do tha righ' thin', abandonin' Lily fer followin' me mother abroad? Did I do tha righ' thin', infiltratin' 'is party? Did I do tha righ' thin', tellin' 'im 'bou' tha prophecy? Was it righ' ter le' ye grow up wit' tha Dursleys?"

"If you think it through, it resulted in the end of the war."

"Bu' ter which price. Was it worth so much sacrifice. Could more 'ad been spared."

"We'll never know, will we? That's why wise people decided destroying Time Turners. Because people aren't meant to go back and risk the world to correct minor mistakes. Because it can go terribly wrong. What if you had stayed and married Lily? What would have happened then? I wouldn't be who I am, or probably not be even. I wouldn't have put an end to Tom Riddle's suffering. It would have gone differently. He might have killed us all. Who knows? No one knows. But I know now that there's a reason behind everything, as hard as it is to accept. I don't say it's good that all these people died. It's horrible! It would have been better if there had never been any war. But they died for a cause. And now we have to rebuild our world on that. We're not meant to erase. We're not meant to forget what it was like. If we do, they'd died for nothing. And letting that happen is just such a selfish, ignorant, barbaric thing to do."

"Then our opinion is tha same."

"Is it?", Harry stood up.

"I think so, yes.", Severus smiled and raised too.

"He talked badly about me, right?", another time a memory from long ago flashed up behind his eyes. "Igor Karkaroff. Before you punched him."

"Dun' think as bad o' 'im as 'e 'ad spoken then.", Severus said serious. "Igor always 'ad some perverse humour, bu' I fergave 'im fer 'is lapse. After all I din' tell 'im 'bou' our relation. If I 'ad, 'e wouldn' 'ave said tha'."

"Where are you going now?", without wanting it, Harry's hand suddenly laid flat on the canvas.

"Wha' makes ye believe I'll go? Bu' yes, I 'ave a date.", he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Er – ", chuckled Harry.

"Nuthin' too serious. Jus' a lil revenge fer a chess match I wun las' week. If ye wan', come an' watch us. Third floor in tha Grand Tower, ye can' miss it. Simply look ou' fer a gatherin' o' monks."

"No, thanks.", Harry meant. "I think, I've seen enough of chess lately. Ron's really annoying. We're spending all free time in the office playing. He tries to see whether it can make me fail my NEWTs. But it helps a lot getting on different thoughts when you're stuck with a case,"

"Certainly."

Severus nodded and knelt down, the lifesize painted hand reaching out against the front of the canvas, what appeared to be for him like the glass of a terrarium and Harry wished to be back in that zoo, and him to be the boa, and the glass to vanish for him to step out, to be free, to be there, to be – real – and – alive –

In that moment, the moment their eyes were connected so strongly, fury grew in him. Much like that snake he had felt uncoiling, when Voldemort had been angry, but now, he wished for that sneak to break free and bite himself, for his bias, his uncontrolled statement back then in the Great Hall – that he – would be going to keep his fingers crossed for – another death – _They cannot return word nor act and the grudge will fall back heavy on the bearer.. Because, it is hard to understand and even harder to accept – every harm, especially the deaths we truthfully hope for in blind loathing, will haunt us for a lifetime._

"Can – can you feel me?", Harry gargled, equal tears in his eyes; he could swear there was some warmth against his palm, some touch that wasn't only the painted surface reflecting his own warmth.

"I can."

With a whisper, Severus nodded once more, pulled back his hand, placed a soft kiss on his fingers and printed it onto the strange barrier that was between them, Harry understanding it to be right where he must be seeing his cheek. More than that, he felt a touch. Barely, but he did. Then Severus stood up and, took his smile with him, left the frame to another, somewhere far away in the castle.

He could hear quiet footsteps. But the longer he stared at the dark painting, the louder they got. His head didn't turn for the person who came. Only standing there, abandoned in his thoughts, he didn't care who would be coming to see his tears. Nevertheless he stepped back and went towards the arches. The feet were gaining speed when he climbed onto the wall that reached his waist, but slowed down with obvious relief when he merely sat himself onto that sill, letting his bare feet dangle over the abyss. The soft breeze that brushed his hair whispered to him. Voices in a foreign tongue, but he believed to understand them. They meant to comfort him, encourage him. So apparently did the person who climbed up at his left to join him at his unusual seat.

An arm was laid around his shoulder. He had never been granted a real brother, but now, at his side, sat someone who was worth more than that. He was indeed a real brother. They had had their differences, their fights, like he had gotten to know real siblings would have in times. But everything had turned out to be better afterwards. With that knowledge, he also lifted his arm to place it around Ron's shoulder, and together, in silence, both still in their nightwear, they watched the shadows of the few clouds dance across the landscape.

~~#~~


	65. Chapter 64 - Dreamcatcher

– Chapter 64 –

 **Dreamcatcher**

Normality was one of the mysteries in the world. People seemed to simply be able to go back to it, regardless of what had happened. But looking beyond those veils, one could clearly see that they did it for their own distraction, so as to not be reminded of the horrors they had been through.

So of course education went on, workers arrived at their offices at appointed times and family members took care of one another. Draco had minimised his outbursts of tears in lessons to two a week, even Dumbledore had gained an amount of control over his own guilt. Ginevra spent her free time on the Quidditch pitch or wandering the castle in search for a certain painted person, Hermione had reduced herself to a library addict again and Luna was mostly hanging about the Astronomy Tower or in the forests with Thestrals, if the three girls weren't out together for visiting Hagrid. Neville travelled between Hogwarts and London several times a week and was therefore almost constantly covered in ashes. Every evening when Harry and Ron returned to The Burrow, Harry would get to the point where he went outside for a walk or locked himself in, not bearing Ron's constant nagging about Mrs Malfoy sharing their house.

Hallowe'en came, was spent at a crammed Burrow by half the people who had been at Hermione's birthday party and went by as fast as little Teddy Lupin was changing his hairstyle. A specific wooden box had lost its last inhabitant to a Chosen person and his fiancée, Hermione finally having figured out with enormous upset where Draco had gotten the condoms from he was so generously dividing among the three couples, leaving the big house the morning after with only half her breakfast eaten and outraged mutters about Dumbledore having served the entire wizarding community with toiletries, then Apparating to Hogsmeade for buying wool.

The very evening, they had been delivered the news that not a single Death Eater who had been awaiting trial in Ministry cells, had survived the previous night.

Thick snow was falling now and everyone was gathered in said house again, for a combination of Christmas- and After-N.E.W.T.-Celebration. On a white Christmas Morning with silvery grey clouds outside, they sat together by the fire and a blinding tree; Luna had insisted on decorating it; having been too tired from the dinner that still filled their stomachs, for passing on any presents on the previous evening. Luckily there had not been any murders or other horrendous accidents overnight, so even Kingsley was able to enjoy his two days off.

Ginevra had just smacked a bright neon pink and blue striped rompers at George's equally broad grin and then unwrapped an expected refilling of what she had gotten for the last two birthdays, with their mother's note that he was becoming uncreative; in between her outbursts of tears when she noticed it was the first Christmas with one of her sons missing forever. But Ginevra had dismissed it with amazed moans at some new products. Harry had received such as well, lastly quite tempted to follow Ginevra's first example when he found himself with a bottle in hand that contained nothing but reeking lard and its label read ` _Essence of Snape – the new wonder tonic for men that suffer from Quidditch-Hair_ ´.

Of course, Luna's presents had been the most challenging – in terms of understanding. But they were so individual and perfectly chosen that none of them dared to exchange their opinion and only mumbled their thanks to her, trying not to look at the shimmering bright green woollen skirt with orange bobbles Hermione had knitted her. The rest of them had been forced into typical Weasley-Jumpers, even Kingsley and Fleur, having received complaints about theirs being far more elegant and of better colours. Harry had only gotten socks from her this year, proudly wearing the differently coloured warming pieces, occasionally snatching the one or other sweet from Ron's lap. Hermione's was meanwhile loaded with books. Therefore it was Hannah to jump up when Errol crashed into the window, what seemed to be the millionth time in his surprisingly long life. She carried the disorientated owl over to the fire along with the letters which she only eyeballed.

"What's it?", Draco asked over one of the unbearable Christmas songs of Celestina Warbeck, but received his letter from her, his mother sliding closer immediately. "Don't say – Minerva's overtrumped herself. Torturing us at Christmas."

"Oh no – ", Neville moaned, just staring at his envelope while Draco already tore his open.

"What is that one?", Arthur asked when she sat back down with it and opened it as well.

"It's for all of us."

"Yes!", Draco cheered, earning himself a thick kiss on the cheek from his mother. "An E in Herbology! I thought I'd fail that!"

"Seems, my advices were of use at last.", chuckled Neville. "Now everyone look at that! I beat Draco Malfoy! An O!", the applause was of course big, but he silenced it quickly. "I even managed to get an E in Charms as well. And I don't think D.A.D.A. needs to be questioned here."

"Same as I?", grinned Draco.

"If it's a beautiful circle, then yes."

"Yeah. I mean, I'd have been fired, if it wasn't. right?"

"What's your rest?", Neville got up and slouched over for a look. "Braggart. Four Os in whole. I mean, look at that crap!", he passed it on along with his own results.

"When is the presentation?", Hermione asked eagerly.

"Er – ", Ginevra leaned over to Draco's lap where his second sheet laid, but Kingsley answered the question.

"On the twenty-seventh, at seven o'clock in the afternoon, in the Great Hall. What does Minerva write?"

"That she's spending the holidays in Southern France with Aberforth, but will shortly return for the presentation, before they're moving on to Rome.", Hannah summarised, looking quite pale.

"You reckon, he's searching for new breeds of goats there?"

"Ron!", Hermione laughed louder than everyone else. "Not everyone's life is as primitive as yours,"

"Hey!"

~~#~~

"Harry? Where is Harry? Has anyone seen him? Oh that boy – why does he always have to be there last second – ", Molly muttered, her hands on her hips by the murmuring group.

They were all wearing dress robes already, standing by the fireplace in the kitchen, waiting for being allowed to dig into the pot with Floo powder. Molly bustled around, checking her children's clothes, as nervous as if it was one of them to graduate.

"I'll go looking for him.", meant Ron and ran upstairs before she could touch his askew collar or warn him of not stepping on the creaking stair.

"Goodness, Ronald! How often – "

"What about repairing it,", suggested George, just loud enough for him to catch.

As expected, he found Harry in his room. A room he hadn't been granted entry a single time within half a year. The door to the dim lit chamber stood ajar, but he knocked. Though as he didn't get an answer, he slowly pushed the door open. On the desk, in the shine of the small lamp, he saw him sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring out into the dark, seemingly counting the few snowflakes that danced against the window.

"Bloody hell – ", he aspirated when his eyes travelled over the walls.

One was covered in newspaper articles, the opposite appeared to have been painted in chequered red. But only a closer look showed that it was rows and rows of still photos. Slightly reflecting the light, a mirror shard was attached to the window frame above the lamp. Further above it; Ron still remembered his mother's yells when Harry had manually nailed it to the frame at one summer's morning; Sirius' knife that had melted in the Ministry. That window-side wall contained slightly more lively objects, like a drawing of Harry Dobby once had made, but also quite a number of letters and a large pencil rubbing of runes pinned next to a list of names and dates in the same size.

There was hardly any spot left to make out the original wallpaper of the room. Ron turned to find a bookshelf behind the door in height of the wardrobe it stood next to, containing all school books they had ever had, and many more. By the wall with the articles to his right, stood the untidy bed. At its foot that pointed at the outside wall, Harry had carefully leant his old Firebolt into the corner, which he had been able to summon without much damage inflicted, even though it had laid in some woods for about a year.

From another lamp that hung in the middle of the ceiling, dangled a sort of Dreamcatcher that had enjoyed the full force of Luna's artistic freedom. It held shells, wooden and glass pearls, seeds of some bushes and trees, crow feathers, five small grey stones from the Black Lake's shore, buttons, dried Dittany buds, a single Thestral tooth in the centre and was woven together with various differently coloured yarns.

Giving it a quiet chuckle, his look fell back on Harry who was properly dressed and had obviously tried to bind his freshly washed long hair together. A busted black rubber band laid by his feet that once again stuck in one red and one yellow woollen sock. His shoes stood neatly below. On the chair, hung the Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry?", Ron whispered, but he didn't take his eyes off the window, in which his friend too was mirrored like some ghost. "You coming with us?", no answer. "What's that all?", he studied the articles, but in the scarce light he could only read some headlines. "And that here?", he slouched closer to the rubbing. "What are those runes, mate? Harry?", Harry still didn't move apart from his calm breathing and occasional necessary blinking or swallowing. "Hang on – Dunnahar? Peverell? Prince? What the – Eileen Amalia Prince – she – she died twenty years ago – exactly tomorrow – what's – Tobias Franklin Snape – three years ago – and – and the same day – Harry – what _is_ this!"

He hadn't seen the wand Harry held, but he saw the little ball of white light that was coming from it, staying floating by the translation of the last lines. Ron read them aloud again.

" _Our Hearts beat as one ever on – 'cross Time's rivers of agony – and when the road hath reach'd its ending and we there meet our Master – unit'd forever we shall be, and block the well to stop the rivers' flow –_ what does that mean? Did you get that from a gravestone, or what? When did you – "

"It means that death is nothing to be feared.", Harry said quiet, though hollow. "That we all meet again at the other side and that together we can make our pain end."

"Did Hermione tell you that?"

"No. She doesn't even know I copied her runes book. She's never been in here."

"Copied her – book?"

"I wasn't as mad as to write down the whole content. A quick Gemino Curse. That's how she duplicated the DA coins. Realised that when we broke into Gringotts. I've been training it for quite a while with some stones before – and eventually with that stupid tonic, if you can remember."

"Yeah. Your acne. How couldn't I."

"Yes. But I hadn't laid hand on it ever since. Until I went for Hermione's book at this Hallowe'en. She'd had it with her all the time anyway. And though it's your room too,"

"It's mine _actually_ ,"

"I don't often get the chance to sneak in and find exactly the book I need, lying openly on her bed. Maybe she's put it there purposely, maybe Luna's had her fingers in the pie, I don't know. I copied it and left it like I found it."

"You could have _bought_ a copy, honestly."

"You think they'd have a copy at Flourish and Blotts with her scribbles in?"

"Hermione scribbles into books?", Ron chuckled. "She's defiling sacred vessels of knowledge?"

"Guess, she's learned from a Prince."

"Tz. Where did you find that grave anyway?"

"Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's – _what?_ Really?"

"Hermione and I have been right there. We've been standing right next to it, but we didn't see it. We were too focused on another."

"Hang on – they're lying next to – "

"Yes."

"Wicked.", aspirated Ron.

"Not really. It's a Peverell grave. You just read it yourself."

"No. No way. You're not – no – you're no way related to – Snape – "

"And if I was? Would it be so much of a problem? Remember? All Pure-Blood families are somehow related."

"But he was a – "

"Half-Blood. Yes. Because his father was a Muggle. He's told us long before he confessed his – alias."

"When."

"Same year, January. Hermione asked for Cliodna Dunnahar. He's corrected Slughorn."

"Wait – there's something – "

"He was right. _You just read it_.", Ron did it again, silently this time. "Slughorn didn't want to believe him, but of course it was the truth. It was his family, after all."

"But apart from the Peverells he didn't say anything – "

"Of course not. He already knew I'd had his old book. He didn't want to be brought in connection. I suppose the reason why Hermione didn't find any valuable articles on Eileen was because he had scanned the library before she could have. They're on the wall, by the way. He must have – passed them on to that `J´."

"Crazy!", Ron aspirated at the articles again. "But they both died shortly after Christmas – even on the same day! Eileen and – "

"Yes. No idea whether that's a coincidence or not. There's not a single written down thing on Tobias' death. Nothing. The only knowledge I could retrieve from papers and J is that he must have left the two, but kept collecting articles from the _Prophet_ he somehow managed to get. And that he must have regretted what he had done because otherwise – "

"And how come you know he'd done that?", Harry only shrugged.

"Just a feeling.", Harry lied.

"And Eileen?", the light ball flew across the room and came to halt at an article that was twenty years old and not even big, but big enough to have made it to the International Section of an edition of the _Prophet._ "A blizzard in Northern Germany? You think she died there? A bit far away, isn't it?"

"Not far away enough when running from war. And why else would that article have been – "

"So she's left him alone too?"

"No. He went with her. I don't know anything about the circumstances, just that she died in his arms.", in the reflection, Harry could see Ron's broad shoulders sink. "Just in case you still want to know what we've argued about before Hermione stormed after him to the docks. Yes, he'd lost his parents too, and if I'm not mistaken, he even buried them. And call me mental, but I think he might have even buried – "

" _Them?_ "

"Yes. Peverells next to Peverells. Who else could know, apart from a proud family member."

"But didn't you say Ignotus – "

"Was buried alone, yes. But the same kind of runes are written around his grave's slab."

"You think, they gave him an individual grave to honour him?"

"Quite likely. And if you look at the dates, those Peverells all died after him. The first not too long after. I assume it's been his son who married a Dunnahar. It would fit the dates and he would lie with his wife then. The next Peverell is a woman, see? She was born around his time."

"Yeah. But why weren't _they_ placed in the same grave then? Honour again?"

"Perhaps. Or to break the connection. That no one goes after me for the Hallows."

"If you want to tell me – _Snape_ might have really done that – "

"Very good, Hermione."

"Hey! You know you can't spend years with her and not get some of her brains injected,"

"Want to know how I got my glasses?"

"Er – what's your glasses got to do with it, mate?"

"I can barely remember it, but when I noticed my eyesight to become worse, I believe I complained a lot in class. So one day, Aunt Petunia came to me with those glasses; the same I'm still wearing; telling me that one of my teachers must have felt some sympathy for me. She'd said they'd laid on the newspaper in front of the door and if she hadn't been annoyed by how I – _whimpered_ about my sight, she'd have thrown them away. So she'd let me try them."

"Okay?"

"Tell me, how could a random Muggle teacher know how much I could actually see? How could they guess my dioptre?"

"Hmm. Yes, that sounds curi- second – ", Ron stared up at the small article carrying a photo of Eileen Prince from her school days. "Holy shit!"

"Yes?"

"And I even told Hermione! That they look like – you really reckon he's – "

"Yes. I really reckon he's delivered her his mother's glasses."

"And they fit?"

"Ron, I can't see a thing without them, but with them I can detect a Snitch at full speed, no matter if it passes my nose or whatever two hundred feet away."

"Guess that means yes. But – _Snape_ – "

"He cared for me, Ron. Much more than you or anyone else might be able to imagine."

"And why did he treat you – "

"You think, he would've been able to work against Voldemort with me clutching to his sleeves?"

"Good point.", Ron sighed. "And hating your father had been quite a plus to make it easy for him.", Harry said nothing on that. "Listen – Mum's feet are probably already digging a tunnel to China into the kitchen floor. You'd better get your shoes on and come with us. We should be there in – ", he checked a pocket watch, "Ten minutes! Blimey! Get going, mate!"

"I'm not coming."

"Er – what?"

"I said, I'm not coming."

"Hey, I can understand if you don't want to go because of Malfoy, but it's Neville's graduation ceremony too. And Parvati's and Padma's. You should really be there."

"For getting all the attention when they should? No, thanks. They deserve better. Tell that your Mum."

"And why are you dressed then?"

"I thought I'd come, but I decided differently."

"Okay. Well, take care of the house then."

"I will."

"And don't drown in paper."

"Hermione's still alive."

"Yeah.", Ron laughed flatly. "See you."

"See you."

Harry listened to the sound of his shoes moving further downstairs and the short verbal battle he fought against his mother about the decision and having stepped on a certain stair again. Then, one after another spoke the words that would bring them to the fireplace in the Great Hall, which had been connected to the Floo Network just for that night. Last to go was Arthur. Harry felt some securing spells be cast from inside, then there was only silence. He could hear his breathing, his heart beating against his chest, the blood rushing through his body – then, plodding. Soft plodding on the stairs, getting louder, as loud as it could, which wasn't much. He didn't even startle when Crookshanks hopped onto the desk, though he was so big that he just fitted there next to the young man. But he purred immediately, gently flapping his bottlebrush tail against Harry's legs. Harry moved his wand into his left hand for stroking the cat.

"Watch the house, please.", he whispered.

As if understanding, Crookshanks mewed once, prodded his pansy face to his ribs and hopped off again, trudging over to Harry's bed which he climbed equally nimble-footed and curled up. Harry slipped off into his clean black shoes and knelt down for lacing them. Wordless, he called back the light that was still hanging by one of the news articles and turned off his lamp with a flick. In the light now shining from the tip of his wand, she shortly went over to Crookshanks, stroked him another few times, straightened his black suit, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and the winter cloak beneath and threw both over.

Covered almost entirely, he lighted his way downstairs quietly and left the house through the backdoor, which he locked magically. Once outside, he heard the quiet sound of Arthur's protections closing back over. Then he dug his way through the fresh fallen snow on one of the paths in the garden they had created over the last days, passed the barrier of the Fidelius Charm in complete darkness and Disapparated with a soft _pop_.

Equally thick snow, untouched, but in a little lighter atmosphere. Candles or other sources of lights were burning in the windows of the old houses, here and there some fairy lights decorated a window, or, as it was with the pub down the alley, the edge of the roof. Some people were passing him in the falling snow, having quiet conversations. Harry stepped back into darkness and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak which he stored in his pouch. His wand however, wandered up his left sleeve. He had developed quite a habit for that now, and it wasn't hindering him at all, nor did he have any troubles pulling it quickly. After all, he had once been told that if he continued carrying it in his rear pocket, he would end up without buttocks one day. Losing a hand due to sitting onto it was less likely as well.

He waited for another group to walk past and followed them to the church in the dim light of some streetlamps, a safety gap between. As he went through the front gate in the mural, his thoughts were with the graves on the other side. But he would go there later. For now, he scraped his shoes before the church doors, shook some snowflakes from his hair and cloak and entered the warmly lit hall.

It wasn't big, but it was comforting. People filled the benches from the front. He decided for a back row in the left half of the small church, away from those he didn't know. Only one came after him, visibly freezing under his coat and he shortly knelt down, made the sign of the cross and scurried to the fifth row where he squeezed himself to a woman that only shook her head, but greeted him in a whispering tone. Slowly, silence fell. And when the organ began to play, everyone raised, for a chant.

This was the first time Harry was knowingly in a church. Of course, his parents might have had him baptised here, but he had been too young to remember. There were other memories from that time he valued more, memories that were stronger, strong enough they had been imprinted somewhere in the back of his head. If he thought about it now, he had even been to Hogwarts.

The blurred image of a worried, young but familiar face swam before his eyes and he remembered some pain at the right side of his head. He remembered it so well now that he even felt a sting. As if a wasp had attacked him. And he knew that he had been brought there by his mother. There was also this image of a blonde trying to distract him, her hair worn most awkwardly and the memory amused him. It amused him enough to cast a smile on his lips. A smile, faint but honest, like hers had been, any time their eyes had met. Yet he had been too busy all the years to realise or even question why she had used to greet him with a smile. And now she was gone. They all were gone. All that was left were memories.

He had never been to a mass. Had never received Communion, knew no prayers, no chants, nothing detailed about any religious traditions. The only alike he had attended had been Dumbledore's and last summer's funerals. Walking slowly, the priest came in with a server. Harry studied them, his lips closed, but his hands folded in respect. He listened to the song that felt almost like magic.

Wondering why each of them had decided to attend the evening mass, he studied their backs, their heads, every movement, like a child that tried to learn from its parents. Hermione's words mixed into the song. Yes, they might have been in there, with him. But they weren't. Cursing himself, he lowered his head the moment his eyes had begun to look for long dark ginger hair, but closest he could spot in these seconds, were only black and shorter than his mother's had been anywhere he had gotten to see her, and those of a little lighter natural red, in a ponytail, belonging to a slightly taller man with full beard who stood by her right. To her other side, was a slightly crouched woman, her silvery grey head decorated with a knot.

One row behind, another woman had her dark blond silk woven to a delicate plait. Some more women at different ages with simple hairdos, only two girls and a boy. The majority of the people that filled the front half of the church was male and definitely none of them had short messed black hair, or messed at all, apart from an old man with scarce frizzles that looked like the remains of a forgotten bird's nest.

Only seconds. But his senses were so trained that he needed not much more to know the appearance of every person in the church and where they stood. So as to not attract attention, he tried his best to imitate them. The routine fascinated him. The devotion. Torn between memories, considerations and his studying, drunken in time, he was startled when the rows started emptying after a long while that had passed like mere seconds for him, though somehow had felt like days as well. They raised, one after another, shortly knelt down by their benches and lined up before the priest and his server, accompanied by the organ. The blonde on the right, that one with the plait, waited for the last two of the row in front of her to be out. The elderly woman had considerable problems with walking and was holding onto a stick, supported by the black-haired. The man didn't move. Harry noticed the confused looks of the blonde before she left her row, followed by more people.

Should he go? Should he receive Communion? Should he just watch and listen and imitate the people once more, just like that red-haired man? It didn't feel right. He had only come here for an excuse to not sit alone at The Burrow, with Crookshanks – and Arnold, if Ginevra hadn't taken him with her so as to not having to look for him again, which normally took her days once he disappeared.

But by the moment he meant to leave his bench, the last were already returning. Sighing deeply but quietly, he resigned himself with the fact that some higher power had settled it for him. So he sat down, with his head lowered and gazed at his knees for the rest of the mass. At the one or other occasion he had to rob his eyes that had gotten tired; the aftermath of the snowball-fight before they had had early supper, was sinking in now. All he actually wanted was to go to bed, but he had come for a purpose. He wouldn't let himself be beaten by little tiredness.

As the priest was gone with his server, people raised another time, one by one or in groups, grooming themselves for returning home. Scarves were being wrapped around necks or thrown over to cover heads, some hoods and hats were sat in place. Gloves found their ways onto hands and though the organ still played, they left the church, softly chatting in a humming cloud like they had when entering. Just one of the children was cheerful, a girl with dark brown pigtails and a soft pink woollen cap on top. She was eagerly talking to her parents. His head still lowered, his eyes on them, a smile drifted over Harry's lips and he raised too, for the left, for an alcove that gave shelter to a number of candles on an iron stand, a statue of a female saint behind.

He felt some looks in his neck, but why bothering, when the shine of the candles was all he needed? Harry approached them slowly, drawn to them like a moth. The front row was empty, apart from some burnt down candles. He took and carefully threw them into a box that was placed there for the purpose. Silence. Loneliness. Not a single pipe of the organ was playing anymore. He was alone in the church, but somehow there was still this feeling of not being – of being – home, if he was honest. A number of new candles picked, he turned his head, only to find the woman with the black hair adjusting the hood over her friends; or relative's; head, before she covered hers with her own. He hadn't seen their faces, but it didn't matter. They might have watched him, he believed to be able to tell from the younger one's hasty moves, but that didn't matter either.

Solely a weary smile on his face about the care, he watched them leave. With a thud, the church door fell shut and it was only him and the candles at last. Harry sighed once more and started setting them, slightly surprised that he had filled exactly that one row. He pulled a long match from a box, struck it and lighted the candles, not needing another. By the moment he was done, tears were running from his eyes, a sort of tears he knew so well by now, but nonetheless had cried again and again. His fingers crossed, he watched the little flames dance on their wicks.

Someone came walking towards him, approached him slowly. For a minute or two, the man just stood by his side, supposedly praying silently with him. Harry swallowed, then addressed him, in whispering volume.

"Good evening, Reverend.", he gargled.

"Mine appears to be filled with much more delight than yours, but still, I wish you a good evening as well, in hope it may become one."

"Thanks."

"That is quite a number of candles you lighted there, my son,"

"For my uncle,", Harry explained quiet, "My godfather and his best friend, for that one's wife, for my best friend's brother, another very dear friend of mine, two of my mentors plus the sister and mother of one of them, for a good friend's father, my grandparents, my parents, and three for all others that went on the other side of the river too early. Eighteen. For every year of my life. For every year I was granted only by their sacrifice. I hope, I repaid them enough by doing the same."

"Love does not ask for repayment."

"But it wishes to repay."

"That is right.", the pastor sighed. "It seeks for prosperity to be spread."

"And it would be just horrible if it had been in vain, only because people repress the memories of what happened."

"I am assertive, the memories will stay long."

"But how long. I mean, will it be long enough that they don't revert back to their old habits? That they start anew? Make the same mistakes again?"

"That is on everyone to pass on. How we teach those that come after, is what their future will look like. Do not fear failure, Harry.", his head zoomed up to the faintly taller, old man that had hardly any of his grey hair left. "Yes, I may be what you call a Muggle, but I have lived long enough already to have seen witches and wizards come and go in my community. I have known your mother and father very well, and I can gladly say, it does not need a memorial outside these walls or the ruin of their home to remind people of the love that saved their son, of the love that saved us all at last."

"Yes.", Harry nodded to the candles.

"You will become legend, dear boy, if you haven't already. The actual monument, in everyone's memory, the strongest of all. Do not fear, son. Look ahead with positivity; help build a world of light by showing how to learn from the past. A thought can be plain, can be simple. But it can lead to an idea, a dream, and if shared, it can move worlds. What matters, is the content of this idea and the will to apply it.", he fatherly patted on Harry's shoulder. "I wish you the best of all evenings and good luck for your future. Godric's Hollow will always have at least one open ear and eye and a pair of arms for you."

"Thank you, Reverend.", Harry smirked. "Have a good evening as well.", he only nodded, turned and left.

One more little while, Harry bathed in the silence, in the glow of the small flames. And as if finally being able to let them go, he gave the row of candles a smile, without tears, threw his hood over and went for the door. Outside, he was alone as well. Nevertheless, it didn't feel that way when he carved his path through the snow, around the church, to a certain stone. A floral wreath leant against the resting place of Ariana and Kendra, some snow having fallen on it, but the magic kept them blooming as if they were growing just there, and he knew that Aberforth had been here as well, probably before they had left for France.

Harry walked on, to a flat tombstone, a thick slab, remembering the place well. A wave of his hand and the snow fell off, baring the sign, the runes at the edges and only one name. Ignotus Peverell. Now he had to pull his wand. He had never done that without. Tracing the lines in one fluent move, chains of little black flowers filled the engraved sign then, Harry not even knowing what sort of flowers they were, but he had thought of such. It didn't matter anyway as he paced on, his throat constricting with every step. No, he hadn't been able to let them go yet. But maybe it was the fact that the snow had been wiped off the two graves as well and it was clear that someone had walked in the area.

Like in summer, a bush of white hyacinths laid there, a little differently arranged. By the other grave, three white roses, three white lilies. Unable to hold it back, a quiet laugh escaped him. And ignoring the feeling, he stood there for some minutes until he turned for the shadowy figure, only a silhouette against the dim, few streetlights further away from the dark fingers of the old tree. He couldn't see the face in the distant. There was no need. He wasn't to see yet. A white mask was lifted and attached. The hood stayed in place. Routine.

He gave the silhouette a grateful nod. It turned on the spot and was gone without a single sound. A very faint _pop_ later, he stood in moonlight, under a small number of clouds that had no snow to share. The moon was almost full, up there by the distant hills. Similar far away, it seemed, golden light shone through high old windows. He himself, stood by a gigantic heap of black rubble, playfully decorated by nature's white glamour, a wire fence erected around and warning signs dangling from it. Harry stepped across, cautious not to get caught in it. The cooler air felt good, so he freed his long hair, shook his head like a dog – or a bird its feathers. He didn't dare to climb up. First he had wanted to place a single of them right on top, but the heap looked dangerous. That wasn't worth the risk. He wouldn't want it. But for sure, he wouldn't mind some exaggeration.

So Harry swung his wand a couple of wide times, until he was satisfied. Whoever would find it, it would definitely be a grand surprise. Retrieving his new broom from the Mokeskin Pouch was a bit more difficult, he came to realise. The old Firebolt was nothing more than a relic. It was too dangerous to even try using it again. Not worth the risk. Life was too valuable. Laughing inside about his childishness, he mounted the broom and pushed himself off the ground. In no time he had left the hill of white tulips behind and felt squeezed through a bubble as he crossed the enchantments around the school grounds.

The front gates were closed, but he entered through an open corridor in the near, flew towards the Entrance Hall and landed in the shadows away from the light falling into it. Some troubles more, the pouch was back under his dark red shirt and his ancestors' cloak covered him flawless. Invisible, he peered into a warming shine. Some were sitting in the rows of equally orientated chairs, others standing. Up on the podium, a buffet had been set and the servings travelled around everywhere. The ceremony was over.

Knowing himself safe, he stepped back into the dark, stored both cloaks and snuck inside, straight through the chatting masses that didn't really notice him. Familiar faces greeted him though and he gave them a wave or call in return. A little slow but quicker than he had expected, he arrived at the buffet, all his tiredness swept away by the sight of the bright smiles of his friends and fiancée.

"And I thought I had a problem with my ear. Seems it's my eyes now as well.", George had spotted him.

"Hey."

"Now that's not true, is it?", Ginevra chuckled and welcomed him with a mutual kiss, her hand brushing through his cold hair then. "Did you fly here or what?"

"Just up from Hogsmeade."

"Didn't you say – ", Ron started, but was cut off.

"I had to do something."

"And what?"

"Oh, nothing too special. It might make it to the _Prophet_ , but if not, I don't really care either.", Harry shrugged casually.

"Harry,", Hermione warned with a leery half-smirk.

"Hermione,", he sung back with big eyes, causing everyone to laugh.

"Please be honest."

"Well, it seems, I actually deserved my NEWT in Charms, I think.", she frowned, not very pleased with the answer. "And Herbology – or Herbologic Charms – Charming Herbs – whatever – "

"Harry, dear.", Molly moaned. "What did you do."

"As I said, nothing too special. Planting some candles and flowers, that's all."

"Who planted what here?", Aberforth had joined them arm in arm with Minerva.

"Hi!", Harry beamed. "How's France?"

"Simply wonderful!", the Headmistress was no less joyful.

"Honestly, pal, what did you do?", Ron mumbled from the corner of his mouth. "Ow!", he hissed then as Hermione had stomped on his foot, huffing him a warning, but her expression slid off the moment hers and Harry's eyes met.

~~#~~


	66. Chapter 65 - Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

– Chapter 65 –

 **Sanctimonia Vincet Semper**

Against the silvery grey of thick clouds, white stars floated down to a gathering on the ground, forming a single mass. Unstoppable they fell, sank past the window; one of many; and did not even get any attention. On the desk by that window, her legs dangling, sat a girl who read a magazine, rotated through ninety degrees, and made notes in it on occasions. Every now and then she would also throw a word into the conversation, but mostly, she was too concentrated to do more than vaguely listen.

There was a bed at her right which had been rightfully conquered by two gingers, one of them being a big cat that studied a purple furry ball hopping over the bedding at its leisure. Dug in various different pillows and cushions on the floor, cuddled another girl, her greasing brown mane trapped in a plait. Completing the strange circle in the small room, their teacher and friend laid flat on a mattress that had been squeezed into the remaining space, leaving just enough for still being able to open the door smoothly. He read a small article in the _Daily Prophet_ to them.

"Now listen to that – I think, I know what he did! ` _Late Christmas message in Hogsmeade_ ´.", he snickered. "` _As discovered yesterday by the inhabitants of the village in vicinity of_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _, unknowns have worked magic on the ruins of an old house which had formerly most commonly been known under the name_ The Shrieking Shack. _Villagers know to report that it is unclear to them who might have possibly covered the entire ruin in flourishing white tulips. However, the stories are the same, telling that these flowers hadn't been there by nightfall the day before yesterday. Some of the questioned consider the act to be a tribute to former Hogwarts Headmaster, Professor –_ ´"

"That figures!", Hermione huffed. "I knew he'd done something like that,", Draco only threw her a chuckling glance and continued.

"` _Who is known to have been murdered in the estate by our once enemy who favoured himself to be called The Dark Lord, before the house had fallen victim to a stray Fire Spell in course of the last battle of the Second Wizarding War. Whether the specific date stands in any connection with either man remains uncertain at the present moment._ ´ Unbelievable. He's really planted flowers.", Draco shook his head and flipped pages for more articles worth reading, but found none. "Luna?"

"Hmm?"

"Is that a raw version of a Quibbler?"

"Yes. January edition."

"Can I have a look?"

"Oh, not really, it wouldn't be good. I'm not done with the spellchecking yet and I need to get that finished today. I'll be printing it tomorrow so I can get it out right at New Year. Then you can have one. I'd like to spread the warning before Rita Skeeter can get her new book bought by too many people."

" _You'll_ be printing it?", Ginevra frowned and easily stopped Crookshanks' paw in the middle of a swipe at Arnold.

"Of course I'll be printing it. It's much easier than copying every single piece magically by throwing them onto the floor, you see.", Luna smiled into the pages, hidden from their view.

"Seems, we really have a bad influence on her.", moaned Hermione quietly but was heard.

"I wouldn't say so. `Rather horrible´ would describe it better.", she meant, yet didn't join in their laugh.

"And you accept that your Dad makes you do the manual work?", Draco asked.

"He's not too fond of it, I think. When I gave him the December edition, he didn't even look at it but burnt it right away, wandless, setting three curtains on fire in the course. They had to evacuate the room, but I could deaden the flames. Nevertheless they were burning so rapidly and with so much smoke, that we all had to undergo a check. At least he has revealed a safety issue this way."

"Er – ", on the confused pause, she slightly lowered the paper, only revealing her forehead and eyes which wandered across.

"Haven't I told you?"

"You haven't told us anything about your Dad lately,", Hermione said, concerned like the others.

"Didn't I?", the paper went back up, again lightly muffling her indifferent airiness. "Well, I think his memory must have come back at some point. You know, that he wanted to sell you all to Voldemort in exchange for me. And when the story of the four murders came out, he must have panicked. Thought that they might go after him now, since they were said to be done with Death Eaters. He turned the house upside down. Wanted to fake his death. He almost really killed himself when the Erumpent horn exploded again. I couldn't let him, you see? But he's rather doing well now, if he doesn't feel like burning things. He even found himself a friend. They are exchanging autographs nearly every day."

"What?"

"Oh yes. Madam Strout said that she has to secretly nick the cards from them when they sleep and wipe the signatures off so they can reuse them. It would get really expensive otherwise. But he's doing a good thing in there. Neville's parents seem to benefit from him. Madam Strout told me that Mrs Longbottom once slapped him when he cornered her husband. Though she doesn't appear to remember, it's been the best physical reaction she has shown ever since she's been in there. When I told Neville then, he hugged me and went straight to London."

"Oh my god – ", Hermione aspirated.

"But that means, you're completely alone now – ", Ginevra started.

"I have you, haven't I?", she hadn't lost a bit of her casual tone while she had explained her situation and still didn't. "Daddy nearly ruined us with his articles after the war. The change was badly necessary, I must say. How's your project going, by the way?", she finally lowered the magazine to her knees, indeed presenting Draco with her usual smile. "Neville said, there are still problems?"

"Problems? It's awful! They MLE raided the manor various times, but they couldn't find any hint on the enchantments over the meadow. At least the house itself and the front gardens are absolutely safe now."

"Yeah. I heard Dad telling Harry before Christmas that they had a lot of trouble with a snapping pillar that grew marble tentacles and teeth every time someone wanted to approach it.", Ginevra grunted. "Just in case you wonder why he's had his hand in bandages, even if he claims he's been clumsy and got it stuck in a lift."

"A what?", chuckled Draco, sitting up, but earned himself a loathsome stare. "Sorry. Didn't mean to. Yeah. That sounds exactly like the sort of defences Dad would have put up to guard his treasures. I've never been to the cellars much. No idea how extensive they are."

"Three floors, with loads of gold and valuable objects hidden. I guess, the renovations are covered, unless you have to pay them for getting rid of the dark stuff."

"Wouldn't have expected anything else.", Draco sighed and laid back down. "Mum just said, she got notice from Gringotts officials that various amounts of treasure have been found and that the Goblins are busy appraising it. But if the MLE doesn't find more than gold, I think I'll just donate it to some other cause. I'm slowly giving up hope that they'll ever figure out what the whole deal is with the meadow. I'm afraid we'll have to live with the fact that Dad took the secret to his grave."

"The grave – ", breathed Hermione, drawing everyone's attention. "But of course! The grave, Draco!"

"Whataya mean?"

"Have they examined the grave yet?"

"Every inch of it. Even the tree."

"Did they look inside?"

"What?", Draco murmured and sat up again, the blanket sliding off him this time. "You mean – "

"The solution might be _inside_ the grave!"

"Hermione,", Ginevra warned.

"I know, it's a horrible thing to do, but if the secret has really been buried – if it is something deep inside – or – or – didn't your Dad have a family ring?"

"He had many rings. Wait – oh crap – the ring!", Draco smacked his flat hand on his forehead, causing himself to wince and rob it from the sudden pain.

"What ring?", Luna asked softly.

"My great-great-grandfather's ring – I pulled it off summer before last – I slammed it into his hand – I was so angry then – he – he carried it for me afterwards – I – damn! We've buried him with that ring, I think!", he sank back down and gazed at the wooden ceiling. "Shit!"

"Is everything alright in there?", the door had been opened and Molly stood in it, Narcissa peeking over her shoulder. "I heard you cursing – "

"I'm – I'm fine.", Draco moaned to the boards above him. "Just got myself a headache from my own idiocy. Mum? You didn't take off Septimus' ring before we buried Dad, did you?"

"No, I remember he still had it on when he had been rested in the coffin."

"You reckon, Kreacher might have stolen it when we didn't pay attention?"

"Why would he – "

"That'd be really helpful. If he didn't, I think we'll have to open the grave."

"Open – Draco! I thought you detested that ring! Why by all forces of Wizardkind do you want to open – "

"It might be a key."

"A key? And to what?"

"In the tombstone, there is a second, smaller engraving of the crest under the family motto."

"Yes?"

"It's – Septimus' ring was the only one we had that showed the crest in all details, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure – maybe – I never paid much attention to that – "

"If we can't find any other ring in the treasure, we'll have to open the grave. Send a letter to Gringotts, please. They shall explicitly search for signet rings or anything else that caries the complete crest in approximate size. If we find the positive to that engraving, we might be able to deactivate the spells on the meadow."

"And what makes you think – "

"Hermione just gave me that idea indirectly. It's the only clue we have. Maybe it's rubbish, but if it's not, and the grave holds a magical lock,"

"Very well. I will write to Gringotts, if that keeps you from digging your father up.", Narcissa said grim and went back downstairs.

"Crookshanks!", the Half-Kneazle had gone for the Pygmy Puff again.

"You shouldn't command your mother like that, Draco.", Molly noted with her hands on her hips.

"She wants to do something useful, I just gave her something useful to do.", Draco countered coldly and pulled the blanket back up to his chin. "And I said `please´."

"Mum's right. You're slowly becoming obsessed with that orphanage thing. I personally think it's not such a good idea. You should let the manor be and build a new house for them somewhere else, if you so insist on the cause – "

" _Personally_ , it's still _my_ house.", he fiercely pushed down the blanket, lept up and stormed out of the room; Molly had to jump aside.

"Draco!", a door slammed shut; Hermione was on her feet too, hurrying after him when a muffled _crack_ resounded.

"And what was that now?", Molly winced; a child started crying downstairs. "Oh dear."

"I think, I've hit a nerve.", Ginevra sighed to Crookshanks and Luna returned to checking through her magazine. "Now will you – !", this time she had to grab Arnold to save him.

"Alright, I go and see if I can help Andromeda. If you two should need anything, you know where to find me.", just when she passed the landing to Draco's room, she had to jump out of Hermione's way, who had jumped away from the door.

"What are you – Draco? Where are you going!"

"Somewhere.", he mumbled and ran downstairs, with one straight target, but was stopped there.

"Whow!", Ron gasped at the kitchen door that led outside. "Where're you heading so fast?"

"That's none of your business."

"And how it is! You nearly levelled me, you crank!"

"Draco?", Harry gasped.

"Get out of my way."

"Which is?"

"Not yours.", he was gone without any further sound.

"Ron? Harry?", Hermione had reached them, with Kreacher slouching behind. "What are you doing here already?"

"Could call it a day a little earlier.", Ron meant, his perplexed stare still out on the snow where Draco had Disapparated.

"Where's he gone?", Hannah came from the sitting room, but Hermione couldn't answer precisely.

"It's – it's m-my fault – ", she stammered. "I – I shouldn't have – said – shouldn't have – s-suggested – "

"Hermione?", Harry had finally managed to push Ron inside. "What's that mean? You shouldn't have said _what_?"

"I – I – ", Hermione shook her head. "It just came to me – just an idea – but he already made a mountain out of a molehill – well, or he's going to do that – I don't know – "

" _Where, did, he, go._ ", Harry demanded while Ron already took off his travelling cloak.

"He believes it might be a key – ", she whimpered. "The ring of his – his – great-great-grandfather – he wants to get it back – he thinks, it might deactivate the magic that's hiding whatever that – "

"Get it back? Where is it?"

"The ring of Master Septimus lies where it has been buried, Master Harry.", the pitiful Elf spoke with his hoarse, quiet voice, while he threw a very uneasy glance up along Hermione's silhouette every few seconds.

"Harry – ", Hermione continued aspirating, "I think, he's going to exhume his f– Harry!"

He had spun so fast he that he as well had almost knocked over Ron and rushed outside, Disapparating immediately. When he reappeared though, the high iron gates were shut, like his ears, trapped in silence between gently falling snow. Everything appeared to only consist of different shades of grey, as if he stood before a black and white painting. To his feet, the snow laid untouched. Either he could directly Apparate in due to being the owner, or – Harry approached the convoluted vines of dark metal, his own breath hazes dissolving in the air. The bars were cold, their silhouettes iced with hundreds of tiny flakes, and wouldn't open for him. A little angry, he took a few steps back, his eyes travelling up to the spikes that sat in a height he was fitting in three times.

Should he – ? On the one hand it was enormously foolish, considering the season and its temperature, but on the other hand, he had climbed high things before. He had climbed walls, roofs, rocks, mostly with help, but he had. And what other choice did he have? For sure, the gates were enchanted. If Draco wanted no company he might be able to avoid it. But Harry knew better. He knew of someone who had climbed past the ancient enchantments in the Great Hall. Far more difficult than those iron gates that laid ahead him almost like an inviting ladder.

Determined enough, he took off his shoes, knotted the laces together and threw them as high as he could. Ironically, they got caught at the spikes. The woollen socks still created some distance between his feet and the snow, but it would only be a matter of seconds until their warmth would make the snow melt and soak the socks. Unwilling to wait for a moment he would be more ready for the conquest, he tackled it.

Up and up he sought his way, climbing with quite an unexpected ease. Nevertheless, the second half of the gates was becoming more difficult. His fingers were as icy and stiff as the iron, even tough some gusts had prevented the snow from resting in these heights, and his toes were close to imitate them. Sweat stood in his neck that was luckily covered from the cold by his thick and messy, bouffant long hair. The mist rising from his heavy breathing, fogged his glasses on both sides and everything became a white and grey blur. But he concentrated on the twirls right in front of his face, every few seconds checking how far away he was from his shoes.

Finally. Harry had reached the pair, freed it and dropped it on the other side, then carefully climbed down. It was far more difficult now, not only because he got winds and his extremities wished to reject his commands. As he slipped off, he bridged the lower half unintentionally with falling, which was fortunately cushioned by the thick snow on the path. There was no way his fingers could get any colder and he therefore simply crawled over to his shoes, put them back on after scooping out some snow and untied the laces with a flick of his hand. Another bound them. Supporting himself onto some part of one gate he tried to get up, but landed on the ground again two seconds later, with his shoulder cracking dangerously. He had discovered a secret handle simply by mistake and even though he was lightweight, it had been enough for the heavy gate to push the snow outside away, pulling him with it. Grunting his anger out, he teetered to his feet, reset his shoulder and stomped down the path between the high hedges, not bothering the unfair gates any longer.

Maybe it was due of the snow and the temperature, or because they didn't really use the manor anymore as a living place, or probably even due to his anger, but yet again, there was no sight of those famous white peacocks. He wondered whether people had just invented that story and they had woven such feathers into the grand bouquet because they had been Lucius favourite animals or so. At the end of the long rows, he turned right and entered the maze. Left, straight, right, right, straight, left, – left? No – straight again. Then – right? Right. Left, straight, another one straight and right – right – no other way than right – straight – right – left – square.

Harry frowned. A few yards ahead, in the centre of the quadratic area stood a big fountain, the water only frozen curtains with pillows of snow on top. In a circle around, some empty arches with dry, leaf- and flowerless rose vines and a snow covered stone bench in every corner.

Although stunningly beautiful, he had ended up in the wrong scenery. If Draco really was doing what Hermione thought, he would do better finding the right way soon. From the past, he had learned that sometimes it was really a good idea to go backwards if he was in doubt. Though in mid-turn, something drew his attention. It was a light, the colour so familiar he didn't hesitate following it, leaving the square at an exit to the left. But the light was fast, he could only see the small tail disappear around corners. It brought him out in shorter time regardless. When he stepped onto the wide field, facing a huge tree in some distance, the little animal spun to him briefly, then collapsed and was gone.

"Thanks.", he mumbled, not bothering to look out for the caster.

All he cared for at the moment was the fresh brown hill by the dark big tombstone, growing. Draco was shovelling manually. Half on his way to him, Harry stopped on a muffled _clonk_. Apparently he had reached the coffin. His heart hammering so high up he pressed his lips shut in case it might jump into his mouth, he breathed heavily through his nose. Silence. Some noise that didn't sound good at all, then something light but darker than the snow came in sight, followed by black clothes. Draco had some problems climbing back out. Alarmed enough, Harry's legs sped towards him on their own, reaching him in due moment to pull him out before he slipped off and back into the grave. Notable amounts of the soil did though. Neither of them really realised at first that if it hadn't been for Harry to pull him out, it might have been the last thing for Draco to have done. He however, had other troubles at the moment and let the old oak experience that at his best.

Four legs and arms shaking, their knees pressed into the white, Harry got to see what he had missed for lunch, though knowing Molly's skills, it quite likely had looked and tasted better at The Burrow. Coughing heavily and in tears, Draco tried to clear his throat but failed. Harry did the only thing he could think of: he dug into the snow, breathed upon it so it melted a little and washed Draco's mouth, bit by bit. After some moments, he had composed enough to do it himself. Eventually they sank against an unspoilt part of the stem and Draco reached into a pocket of his trousers, from which he pulled a striking yellow plastic bag. With his hand deeper in than visibly possible, he searched for something. Harry couldn't avoid a chuckle on the little metal box that appeared.

"Hannah.", he smirked.

"Yeah.", Draco breathed and picked a drop for the taste in his mouth. "She's a pest."

"All girls are.", Harry's chest hovered equally when he let the remains of Draco's meal vanish. "But you can't help loving the one or other."

"Luckily. We'd all be dead already otherwise.", the blond panted. "And sex would only be half the fun if every of them was unbearable."

"Scruff."

"True.", Draco looked down his suit that was all dirty from digging.

"You're such an idiot, you know that?", Harry laughed with him.

"You tell me. You've planted tulips on rubble."

"Charred stuff is said to be good manure."

"Thanks, by the way."

"Any time. People told me it's my job to save arses."

"And you just saved a grand one. With a huge cave of a hole."

"Don't remind me that there used to be a time I'd even have pushed some more of that brown beauty down on you to make sure you wouldn't get out. Aren't you cold?"

"I'm sweating like a pig.", Draco puffed. "But now that you say it, a bit."

"Get that bit then.", Harry meant and tried to spread one half of his wide, thick cloak under them on the cold ground. "Better?"

"Slightly.", Draco slid closer and Harry threw the second half over, being enough to cover them completely from their necks down to their shoes. "You mind?"

"Draco,"

"Sure. Ask first, then be naughty."

"Great! Now you're putting images in my head.", Harry grunted. "Just joking.", despite having their arms wrapped around one another and even their heads leant together now, they were shaking terribly. "You got it?"

"Got what?"

"The ring."

"Oh. Yes. It's on my finger."

"Good. At least you didn't risk your neck for nothing."

"And how was _your_ day?", Draco asked randomly.

"Beat myself."

"Really?"

"I climbed over your garden gates."

"Er – they were open, I think – "

"They still are. Realised that by the moment I fell back out. But at least I know now that eighteen feet of icy iron twirls are no obstacle for me. I think, I'll try the Great Hall next."

"Mug. He had ages of training."

"You're right. First I should learn to slow down myself when falling. Might come in handy."

"Yeah. Especially when you try to climb across open doors."

"Don't be so mean, better be glad I didn't try to blast it away. And that Hermione doesn't see us like that here."

"Why?"

"I got lost in the maze. She must have followed me, but late enough to miss my record. Still she's sent me her Patronus to lead me back out."

"Okay?", Draco chuckled and scanned their colourless surrounding.

"She's a bit weird sometimes. Maybe Luna's fault."

"Yeah. Maybe. Seems she's too guilty to face me though."

"Probably. She meant it's been her fault that you went here."

"Basically, yes. She gave me the idea. Unfortunately I've become a bit too consequent when it comes to such things and so I literally – er – jumped into the snake pit."

"Snake pit.", Harry laughed.

"It is, isn't it?", Draco snickered.

"Yes."

~~#~~

"It's not like you can say you didn'd expect that to happen, if you're honest to yourself."

"What?", she gasped, her head jerking up from the snow outside.

This time it was her to sit on Ginny's desk. Ginny was back on her bed and Luna laid where Draco had, _just_ like he had. Only without any newspaper now. Straight as a board she laid there, her absent eyes on the wooden ceiling. Hermione had pondered so much within the last minutes that the back of her head hurt and as if it clicked, she remembered what she had been told, marginally, seemingly ages in the past: that Luna's backbone had been injured in the Department of Mysteries, while Hermione had been passed out. Maybe that was why Luna always sat and lied so straight. Just like her own head still hurt every once in a while. Wounds that even the most powerful magic couldn't heal.

"No.", Luna breathed, very faintly.

"Huh?", both stared down on her.

"It doesn't hurt, Hermione. I just find it exceptionally pleasant not to crouch all the time."

"Uh – "

"Never mind, then.", Hermione huffed. "Another thing I should have expected, right? Like so many things."

"Yes.", Luna confirmed flagrantly.

"Tz."

"And you don't need to worry. He's not alone. He was never as alone as you believed him to be. Yes, he secluded himself from the world, but you will also have to understand the reason."

"Which is?", Hermione huffed again, not sure if Luna was talking about Draco or –

"He's lost nearly everything he ever cared about. You must see that at one point he decided not to let people get near him, as he feared it was exactly what made him lose them. He decided not to care, so he wouldn't have to live with more loss. But of course that's not true. Nobody can tell their own heart and mind what to not care about. Not as far as I have noticed."

For some reason Ginny decided to stare at the worn down wallpaper, quite fascinated by a small scratch, obviously Crookshanks' work. A scratch Hermione herself hadn't noticed yet. For some reason it resembled much a certain sign. However, it could also be that her eyes were playing tricks on her. After all she couldn't clearly see it from where she sat, but it was definitely there and Ginny stared at it.

"If you have faith, you will meet again one day. Maybe even in the way you expect. But if you are really honest to yourself, you will know that it is on you to find out if you are ready."

With that, Luna pushed back the blanket evenly and raised. She was almost at the door when Hermione stopped her.

"Ready for what?", Luna paused in the open door, but didn't turn to her.

"Knowing you tells me that it's one thing your logic cannot explain to you. So I will."

"Yes?", she didn't know why, but that statement upset her.

"Yes, it seems necessary that I do.", still she wouldn't turn. "Ready to let go. To accept that there are higher things than your own motifs and beliefs. Ready for a compromise. Ready to understand that not every man's emotional range is limited to a teaspoon's bowl and that while you plan ahead, others might plan further, in regard of a past that you, quite fortunately I may say, never were forced to experience."

" _What?_ "

"Also never think that either's locking themselves away. I know that to you that's just empty words though, so I'll leave you to your thoughts, if you allow me,"

As she closed the door behind, Hermione found that last sentence quite unnecessary. What did she just say? Luna? Giving her a lecture that could have come straight out of the mouth of whom it had been about?

"She's right.", Ginny sniffed, barely audible. "And you know that."

"Sorry?"

"No, thanks.", her friend huffed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I wish you'd mean that. Because seriously, for wanting to see him again in some afterlife, your mindset is going way against any chance. Even if he's still waiting there, don't expect him to be waiting for _you_. If any, he's waiting for Harry."

"Ginny – "

"I know you're not trying to fool me. You really cared for him. But in the end you also cared so much for your own desires that after all these years trying to understand him and him being – him being gone – y-you still think you need to rescue him from some hopeless pit he's fallen into. But what you don't understand is that his closest ones differed much from yours. He's grown up differently and experienced different hardship. And still you demand he had had the same kind of friends you have, while you don't even realise what makes your friends yours."

"I don't quite understand – "

"Tz. Now you're acknowledging the truth? _Now?_ ", finally she would raise her hed from the scratch, presenting Hermione with tear-washed eyes. "You want to know the actual truth about why you keep thinking he's pushed everyone aside who could have been his friends? Because he held them close so well that you and nearly everyone else thought he did push them aside. And I think he's told you often enough why. The life he'd lived was too dangerous for them to be recognised as being dear to him. It would have been their death sentence. And guess what – in the end it was. He tried everything. Everything he could. And still his plans backfired. But years after. If he had followed your idea of what his plan should have been, it would have done so much earlier."

"But then he would have had at least little quality time with them.", Hermione pouted.

"And there's the flaw in this. You think he hadn't. Just because he didn't let you see.", she lightly shook her head. "Letting you into his secrets was dangerous, that much he knew. And so knew you, the moment you asked him why he had done so. But if your were just a tad wiser you'd finally accept that as much as he had told you, as much he had kept secret. Thinking about it, you should have figured that when you tried to speak your condolences after Runespoor Eggs had swamped his office. So yes, already long before he decided to reveal part of his motivations."

Hermione was taken aback. How much had they actually talked during that time Ginny had hidden in his Dungeon office? How much did her best friend know and not tell her? Telling everyone how they weren't supposed to know things, while she, Hermione, now found herself told she didn't know half of what she believed to?

"Look into your pouch."

That made her actually startle from her thoughts.

"Come again?"

"Your pouch. Look inside. I think Luna's dropped something in there. And I think I know what it is. Also knowing Luna, I think I know quite well what it's about. I might have even been there."

Eager, she jumped off the desk and nearly fell face forward into the bedding on the floor. With a quick yet elegance lacking spin she picked up her beaded bag from between it and the desk and stuck her arm deep in. However, there was nothing she could feel that she didn't already know to be there.

"Should be further up. Maybe even bound to the string. Luna dropped it in there, not Ron."

"Oh shut up."

Yet indeed, bound to the cord, was a white leather strip and as soon as she pulled it, a flask came hovering out, hooked onto the strip with a little metal ring. Why it floated, might ever remain a mystery to her. She knew that Luna was different, but her being capable of such magic was news to even Hermione. Even more so when the metal ring snapped open at a seam that had not been visible before and stayed floating in front of her face. Confused, she still rummaged for her small Pensieve, opened the lid, snatched the flask that had already unstoppered itself without Hermione meaning it to and she poured the memories into the bowl. A last glance at Ginny, she dived her face in.

Instantly she found herself in familiar surrounding. Even the smells were there, quite unusually. Steam from the cauldrons hazed the room and behind the old dark desk he sat, his greasy hair dangling, greasy to prevent standing off as if a long haired cat had been thrown into a dryer – not that she had ever seen such. Left elbow on the desk to support his chin, he squinted at some papers before him, concentrated. Her mind told her that he was probably only appearing concentrated while still studying the students to discover possible mistakes – and because he had a hard time reading without glasses, yet was still too proud to confess the weakness he had successfully hidden since his childhood.

Scanning the rows, Hermione immediately spotted long ginger and ashen blond hair, next to each other. So she had not lied about knowing Luna. The memory indeed took place in their class. And said classroom door opened, only noticed by her – and some students – by the quiet creaking. It opened so slow and hesitant that she had a feeling the one peeking in was scared of being attacked. First she thought it was Dumbledore, but then she noticed it was just a long white fur coat topped with silver hair in a very short ponytail. Karkaroff closed the door, turned and marched straight towards the desk, an unusually empty expression on his rather pale face. Confused eyes followed him and gasped after a second pause he had when he had came standing by the desk, staring on the floor: with a quick flick of his left wrist he levitated some dust from the floor and surprisingly turned it into a simple but elegant chair of red wood. Sideways to Severus though in an angle and about three away from the desk, he sat down on it, crossed his legs and arms and fell still, wrapped up in the fur.

With a deep breath and a huff Severus was back at dedicating to correction of the homework on the desk. Though not without a quiet snap.

"Don't you have cauldrons that are slightly more fascinating, as nearly half of them intend to boil over?"

Panicking, quite a number of students also resumed their business, while Karkaroff would only gaze at some glasses on the shelves. Hermione waited. Fascinated, she waited. A long while, actually, there, by the second row, three desks away from Luna and Ginny. Just when she decided she wanted to step a little closer to the two men, there was a mumble. She couldn't decipher what he had said, but it had been loud enough for not only her to hear and for Severus to faintly raise an eyebrow. Approximately thirty seconds later, he mumbled again. And continued mumbling. Now she knew why she couldn't fully understand what he was saying. It was in Russian. She understood parts, but not everything. Only that he clearly complained about something – or someone. His stare was still quite empty, but became a little more pouting with every sentence.

Some of the students also pricked up their ears, elbowing others to gain their attention. Severus' blinking became more obvious by the minute and even annoyed to the point where his breathing resembled it, the louder and clearer Karkaroff's soliloquises got. So annoyed that the next word he crossed out was downright murdered by the quill's tip and he stuck it back into the pot with remarkably controlled force, causing several students to giggle under their breath.

Still blinking heavily, he turned his head to the side. The other side. Then, with a huff, he resumed the correction. But not for long. Again the quill was pierced into the pot and he placed his hands on his lap, his look straight at Karkaroff now who was still talking to the jars as the giggles intensified. But they got caught instantly when Severus raised his deep voice, surprisingly calm and quiet and more than apparently selecting his words well.

At first Hermione was shocked like the others; apart from some Slytherins, it seemed. Though she was not because he too spoke Russian, but because they more than recognisably shared the same sort of dialect. However her brain smacked the discovery down by telling her that Severus had learned the language from Karkaroff and it therefore was only natural. After Severus had had his say, they simply stared into each other's eyes, and as if meaning to let the words sink in properly, he straightened even more before dedicating to the homework again. Not without –

"Either most of you are deaf or you possess extraordinarily desperate death wishes."

Completely disregarding the scold and hectic moves in the classroom as if none of it had happened, Karkaroff marvelled him from the side.

" _Are you sure?_ ", was the only thing Hermione now actually understood.

" _Quite, yes_."

There was another long pause in which Karkaroff only studied Severus' silhouette – in a way it felt to Hermione almost as though he was a little child, meaning to receive answer to the ultimate riddle. Not really desperate, neither confused, nor eager. It was a calm mix of it all. And pondering. Much pondering. Severus raised his head again. Looked back into those blue crystals fixating him. She couldn't really see it from where she stood, but when he straightened anew and leaned back with his hands on his lap again, she was sure he too had his legs crossed now, expression semi blank but confident when he said that one, calm, soft, gentle, assuring word.

"Да."

For another moment, Karkaroff seemed too awestruck to react. Then, a subtle nod, with his look drifting away, facing the floor, his eyes exactly at the spot where Hermione's feet stood. Now it was Karkaroff who started blinking. But when he raised his head anew to look at Severus, he would find a smile so vague yet comforting – and Hermione knew she could only see it because she had learned to see it – and knew that was the only reason why Karkaroff could see it. There was still disbelief in his look, though more now in the sense of not being able to grasp that it was actually true. As if he wanted to refuse to believe regardless of how much he knew it was as it was, whatever that was.

Hermione hadn't understood what it had been about. But for some reason, seeing them like this, as though in a private bubble, there, in a full classroom, made her understand why Luna had wanted to show her that. It was obscure yet soothing to see, however unbelievable how deep their connection had been. Severus had given her comforting looks. But they had been far from what she saw there, and maybe, because when she had needed them, she hadn't needed them as badly as Karkaroff perhaps had. Silent knowledge between them. And she understood that it wasn't silent because they might have decided to continue their chat telepathically. They might have; she would probably never find out; but privily she knew that they were solely communicating with their eyes.

That fact dazzled Hermione so much, it felt as if she had been impaled with a loaded cannon when the classroom door was opened by another. Or rather, when that other raised her voice to everyone's attention. Shocked and with a squeal, Hermione spun.

"But of course that's where you went.", puffed the woman and when Hermione took a glance over her shoulder, she could see the same pout from before around that pale-freckled and slightly pointy nose. "Never mind. I've said all there is to say, for now."

"Then why have you come here, if you settled your dispute?", Severus sighed, returning to the papers on the desk once more.

"I didn't actually come for him,", Professor Burbage grunted, marching straight towards the desk. " _This_.", she blatantly sat herself on the edge, "Just arrived at my window."

"How urgent was that owl if you call off class just to refresh the air in front of me by flailing with a torn envelope?"

"We were done already. I didn't call off."

Nor had she flailed, Hermione had spotted that. But the comment didn't seem to touch her anyhow. With an annoyed huff and several students' attention, he snatched the envelope from her, pulled out the letter and began to read silently. Hermione took the chance to move closer, so she could see all three faces.

"What you say?", the woman asked quiet.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know you're done with it. What you say? Should I accept?", there was a pause.

"You are asking _me_.", Severus frowned at her.

"Why, of course!"

"You ask me, whether you should quit your job for one that pays you a third more."

"You know how much they pay?"

"Yes. Arthur isn't exactly making wages a secret. Still."

"Yes. Still. I want your honest answer."

"You know.", his stare was so blank Hermione thought he could have just as well died that very second.

"Of course. You say yes, because you only want the best for me, I get it. We'll manage."

"No, you know Hopkirk's handwriting. You've seen my record."

"How would I – that was decades ago!", she groaned without raising the volume. "And what's that – wait – "

"In that case, asking me was the best idea you could have had. It is a fraud. A very well done one, but still fake."

"Er – why would someone fake Hopkirk's handwriting just to offer me a well paid job in that office?"

"What office was that again?", Karkaroff whispered, narrowing his silver brows.

"Improper Use of Magic.", Burbage answered, confused when the men exchanged an alarmingly knowing look. "What!"

"You know who heads the office, don't you?", Severus tried to make her riddle it out.

"No.", she shook her head. "No way. Why would that old frogger make all that effort just to lure someone as unimportant as me out of Hogwarts?"

"Well, that is exactly the point. To her, you would be unimportant. Collateral damage. There are rumours that Fudge isn't pleased by how little control he has over Hogwarts. More than rumours, actually."

"Tz. As if he's the first Minister having to live with that. What's he thinking. That the curriculum creates idiots? Young adults whose knowledge and productivity aren't good enough to serve our society? If that's what he fears, he'd only need to arrest Dumbledore and announce you as the new Headmaster. And we both know he doesn't have the power to do that, because the goddamn school won't let that decision happen, out of principle."

"Thank you for your kind words.", Severus grunted. "I was merely trying to tell you that if he puts his Undersecretary to the task, this is likely where she would start. You know her opinion of Muggles. As it seems, she already started."

"Wow.", her languid frown was no short of his.

"Certainly."

"So, say, she wants someone else to teach the subject – in a way that reflects her supremacism – and I actually fall for the bait, taking on a job that possibly doesn't even exist – whom do I want Igor to murder before they can try to apply for my chair?"

Hermione wasn't the only to choke. The conversation was quiet, but not quiet enough as to not be overheard from the closest seats.

"You know I don't come cheap?", said man grinned sheepishly, but his grin froze to disgust on her counterquestion.

"My current job doesn't pay me well enough for affording your extravagant eviscerations. Can I pay by sex?"

"Thank you, but in this case, I rather volunteer."

"Fantastic.", Burbage snorted.

"Yes. You know how much I dislike kittens. But what I dislike more is people who like kittens _and_ are a disgrace to the honour of the colour pink."

"Since when do _you_ show sentiment towards pink.", murmured Severus.

"Since I saw that toadface defile its glory by sticking her body into it."

"That's one rather gross depiction of wearing clothes,", sighed Burbage.

"There is nothing that isn't gross about Dolores Umbridge."

"And regardless I forbid you to harm her until we know more.", the whole sentence being a sigh, Severus examined the letter again.

"Good. I don't fancy besmuddling any blade in the world with her stinky blood."

"Are you done?"

"Only if you manage to erase thoughts of her from my mind. They give me goosebumps. A sort of goosebumps that I want to scrape off with a grater as they are infested with those thoughts."

"Now _I_ want to know if you're done.", Burbage groaned annoyed. "I do fancy some dark humour, but you're just being disgusting, in a classroom filled with third years. If even only three of them heard you,"

"So what.", hissed Karkaroff. "I do not owe them any justification. Anyhow, if they knew Umbridge, they would lend me their nail files, should none of them own a grat– "

It was clear that Hermione wasn't the only one glad that the bell had rang at that moment. Some of the students surely had paid with bad marks on their concoctions for trying to listen, but those who had heard every word, were as pale as Severus naturally was. She had seen her own former classmates pack hastily for years, but they, of whom many were her current classmates now, should have earned an award for it then, she thought. Also those who had sat closest, would approach the trio with anxiousness for handing in their probes. It made her wonder how ever Burbage had reassured them in her own next lesson with them.

Neither of the three at the teacher's desk said any further word until the last student was gone, and when even Luna left the underground classroom, it began to dawn on Hermione that it wasn't Luna's memory of the scene she was watching. The girl must have asked him for it at some later point. When, how or with what explanation, Hermione was afraid, she would never get to find out. Though in light of what she had learned about Luna throughout the past months she considered it likely that Luna had simply requested it, without providing a reason. If that was the case, she wondered how much Severus had actually trusted her. Luna, a peculiar girl that was apparently capable of grander magic than anyone would ever guess, while possessing a talent for instant persuasion by simply dazzling people with her oddness, and having some sort of ulterior motive in life that laid beyond anyone's wit.

She watched the last boy leave, not deigning to touch the door. So it stayed open, flooding the area around it with the bluish shine from the corridor.

"So?"

"So?", Severus frowned again.

"What shall I do about that letter?"

"Ye?"

"Well then, I leave it to you. After all, you're the expert for Death Eaters here. And for faked handwriting."

"I never said tha' Umbridge – "

"But you implied it."

"If ye interpreted it tha' way,"

"Well, yes!"

"Charity.", he said calm and softly. "Ye know as well as I do tha' no' every racis's a Death Eater an' no' every Death Eater is a racis'."

"And Umbridge?"

"Per definition?"

"Whatever goes.", she chuckled.

"Per definition, Dolores Umbridge is no' a Death Eater."

"And per what else is she a Death Eater?"

"Toadface is a blindworm that slithers into every corner, trying to find things that don't match her world view.", grumbled Karkaroff, crossing his arms and legs tighter than before, with his biggest pout of the hour. "And now that you brought it up, I would really like to cut off both ends of her."

His stiffening was quite unnecessary, Hermione found, as he raised immediately after that and went for the door. She thought he wanted to close it, but something at the back of her mind told her that he wouldn't have stood up for that.

"Igor?", surprising Hermione, it was not Severus who stopped him with a soft but warning tone. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Me?", he stopped in the frame, not turning – and Hermione winced on the probably useless connection her brain made to Luna just having left Ginny's room in a similar quick manner. "You two have a free period now, as I understand. And a letter to set up for Toadface. What use would I be in that."

"Who said anyone's gonna write a letter right now?"

"Then whatever.", he huffed.

"Igor,", she stopped him anew in mid-step and raised from the desk, leaving the letter behind as she walked towards him.

"What.", the dark grunt he gave her couldn't have been more appalled.

"There's no reason for you to leave."

The calm and serious way she had said that, standing by his side, took Hermione's breath away. She didn't know why it struck her that the usually rather temperamental woman had had also a very down-to-earth side. If she was honest to herself, she had witnessed it before but ignored it.

"You'll stay here. I go."

"Why."

"Why?", she gasped, downright upset. "W- because it's Valentine's Day, you doofus! The day to tell your beloved ones what they really mean to you!"

"Pfft.", Karkaroff crossed his arms again.

"Yes, I know that neither of you gives any fucking damn about this day.", she protested. "But I do. And I do care for Severus. And that he does the right thing before it's too late. Because if I'm not brutally mistaken, there's something he's been trying to tell you for half a year. But you, ever so ingenious, have a talent for seeking his presence in exactly the wrong moments as well as leaving him be when he would actually appreciate your company. So if not now, not today, _when_. If things actually turn out as they've been developing for months, if not years, there won't be many chances. Because I will be here. But you will have to leave, for your own safety and for avoiding him having to kill you."

It didn't need him to finally turn and reveal the sudden shock on his face to shock Hermione likewise. For some reason Burbage shut the door with a flick of her hand.

"Don't give me that look. Of course he's told me everything about the initiation, years ago already. Voldemort saw the connection between you; how much he knows your needs and how much you actually need Severus and his philosophy to control yourself. That man may not be able to feel any bond to any person himself, but he can to some extent sense if people like one another enough to provide soil for the seeds of his plans. Should he return, his first goal will be to annihilate traitors. And you know just as well as everyone else does that your name stands at the very top of his list. Your disloyalty was proven in your trial, when you saved Severus by betraying him. And he played his part so well that the only thing obvious to Voldemort will be that Severus is on his side. He will only see that you betrayed him. To Voldemort, everyone who is on his side, naturally shares his mindset. The logical consequence is revenge. And to prove once more that Severus' loyalty is true,"

Burbage decided not to continue, for a reason Hermione could see all across the classroom. It was not necessary to put any more emphasis on the quagmire. He looked so miserably, she was surprised he hadn't fainted yet. So miserable, Hermione could have sworn his silver hair had become grey for a few seconds before Burbage patted his fur covered shoulder.

"Do all three of us a favour and stop being the idiot you actually aren't."

Another pat and she left the classroom, closing the door behind and leaving them in an awkward silence. Karkaroff just stared through the air, in direction where her face had been, and Hermione's head turned from one to the other. Only slowly Severus got up from his seat, paced towards his friend. Hermione pondered whether she should also get closer. In the end she did, but not too close. It felt inappropriate. Patiently she waited what would happen; examined Severus' prudent movement. How he took the fur cautiously in both hands, slipped the coat off Igor's shoulders and laid it down on the closest desk. Apathetic, he let it happen, let the hands lay down on his shoulders, wipe a loose curl behind his left ear, and a pair of lips close up until it gently met with his right cheek – kissed a silent tear away that Hermione couldn't see but somehow knew to have been there.

As if time had slowed down, Severus enclosed him in his arms, held is head, brushed it, deliberately pulled the tightly knotted ribbon off the short ponytail so he wouldn't make a worse mess. Although his black cloak was quite massive, she could recognise two arms sliding up underneath, and around his back. When Severus eventually had moved his head so as their foreheads were laid together, something drew Hermione's attention: slowly but steadily the silver fur on the desk moved. Gravity had decided to reach out for it; drag it aside and down, further and further until it finally, within a sudden split second as though there was a cut in the flow of time, fell onto the floor. Fascinated she watched the long hair settle on the foot- and woodworn stone tiles, shimmer in the many different colours it reflected. Colours she hadn't even known they were cast by anything in the room.

When she looked back up at the men, Severus had brushed the other silver waves back in order – held them skilfully in his hands and bound the unknotted ribbon around the neat, very short ponytail with an ease as though he would do the very thing every single day. Done, his palms moved onto the lightly freckled cheeks, and he would raise a whisper that was strangely loud enough for Hermione to understand.

"Dun' think tha' changes anythin' between us.", he said right into the glassy blue crystals, to a pair of trembling lips that held back a cry of dispair. "Ye can stick yer snout inter any Fidelius barrier wit'ou' knowin' anyone be'ind it, an' ye can be anyone ye like ter be. If someone can manage ter survive; manage ter trick 'im inter believin' 'e won, it'd be ye. We'll fin' a way."

"What makes you so confident – ", it was a mere whimper, but that too, she could hear.

"If a teenage girl can trick a teenage boy ter le' 'er be amon' tha people tha're allowed ter use 'is mos' powerful heirloom an' sneaks inter 'is dormit'ry many times unseen ter _borrow_ it fer 'er very own mission ter discover tha secre's of an ancien' school, an' supposedly dive under a desk in a classroom unspotted, ye can survive two wars."

Coughing and choking on her own tongue, Hermione's head rushed up from the bowl, just to find herself in the bedroom of said girl, toppled against her desk – alone and dizzy. Only a lilac beaded bag on the battered wooden floor that was covered with carpets and blankets, a messed bed, a closet, a closed door and among a variety of memorabilia on shelf boards, a cat claw scratch on the worn down wallpaper, resembling much a symbol that survived centuries of wizardkind history.

~~#~~


	67. Chapter 66 - All the precious fortresses

– Chapter 66 –

 **All the precious fortresses**

Thoughts kept throbbing in her head, pushing against her skull, and once more she felt herself reminded of that day in the Hospital Wing, so long ago, she might have lived an entire life since. Lying on the table, her hands were held by Ron's and though she liked them so much, she wished for a different pair to do it instead. The longer she lived, the more she began to understand, what it had been like for him, loving someone dearly, always having this spark, somewhere, in the back of a mind that nearly exploded and imploded mutually every time thoughts were brushing along.

But it was different. While she had hope that he might come back, a chance he might do so, he had nothing but emptiness to hold on to. Perhaps the same hope, that he would be seeing Lily and all his friends again some day, but that he then would be gone as well. There was nothing that could possibly make him afraid of dying, because then he would be with her. Still he was here. _I have a job to do_. Yes, he apparently had. And though she couldn't fully understand why it had to be such a brutal one, she at least accepted that she wouldn't entirely understand before she had children herself.

"Have you sent the letter already?", she asked softly, straight up into Narcissa's blue eyes, ignoring that to her right, in his grandmother's arms, Teddy had changed his hair colour again.

"No.", the woman answered emotionless.

"No?", Hermione straightened slightly.

"It would only give them unnecessary troubles. Draco has a lesson to learn and he has to do that alone. Even if they might find something that actually worked the way he believes, he should first retrieve the ring. If he so badly wishes to pull his family's secrets up from the deepest grounds, I won't stop him. It is his right to learn this lesson. The dead are meant to rest and their secrets are meant to rest with them. I merely let him devote to this project of his because I fear he might – "

She swallowed heavily and looked out of a kitchen window behind Andromeda. In whole, it took her more than half a minute until she found the strength to add the obvious, though with a bigger knot in her throat.

"End up like his father. I do not – want to – bind another – off – you see, what Lucius destroyed in the end, was himself. It wasn't his life as a Death Eater, or his time in Azkaban – it was his own pride, his wish to be something, to fondle the name that had lost its prestige with his father. He wanted to bring back old days he had no imagination of and if I don't want Draco to make the same mistake, he will have to open this grave and see. If he thinks there aren't enough corpses already to haunt him at nights, I will not stop him from inviting another to his dreams."

"That's cruel.", she looked back at Hermione, her expression still empty.

"No. Lucius has built a cage for Draco, and it had been on me to polish it, to hold its bars together when they were about to be washed away. You see, as much as he had a propensity to this useless prestige, to wealth, as much he had it for another luxury he formerly only cherished on occasions, but it became more frequent. While he was cheerful when he drank, he was also easily offended and lost all inhibition. He didn't differ. The more he had drunk, the less he differed. And if he had enough, he was in a completely alternate world. No one could follow him there. In this world he was king. He was the emperor, and he had no friends there, no family. Only he counted. I wasn't his wife, and Draco – wasn't his son. I don't know what exactly we were then for him, other than slaves, but of course, while I had a certain control, Draco couldn't see it. He had been too young, and then he had been used to the fact that this was Daddy as well. He didn't differ either. And I couldn't make him differ. Lucius never had any memory of those nights, or even days. I did my best to make it as pleasant for Draco as possible, and if it meant that he had to believe it to be alright. He idolised his father, adored him, loved him deeply. I couldn't blast away his illusion. He was only a child – I – I just couldn't – "

"What did he do.", Hermione moaned whispering.

"Yet, even if he had remembered, I don't believe he would have understood – the extent – after all – he too had loved his father. And thinking back, seeing how habits had passed on, I – I, yes, maybe I had grown to live with it. Decided that this was, what fathers did."

" _What fathers did?_ ", Hermione kept demanding.

"The dead can't defend themselves.", Narcissa countered cold. "You are not his daughter. It is not on you to dig him out and question a side of him he couldn't control. It is hard enough for me that I had been so naïve as to not see that contact with others might wake Draco up; just like myself; that he might begin to question his father – and he did, eventually. He saw and heard and understood that some things might not be as alright as he had always believed them to be. He confronted Lucius and Lucius didn't know what he was talking about. I never told him what he was like when drunk. Let alone that he would have believed me, or understood. He loved Draco too much. He would have rather kicked me out, even though he loved me nearly as much. His lesson was that Draco had grown up and begun to unveil a person Lucius didn't know it rested in him. He had no knowledge of the real monster that had been passed on in his bloodline, the reason why his own father's existence had soiled this family so terribly. The reason nobody ever spoke about."

"And – ", Hermione unnecessarily wanted to push her.

"But of course they did. They already did, back then in our common room. They spoke about it when Lucius wasn't there and I mostly left with my hands on my ears so I needed not hear the horror stories about my boyfriend's father. He might have even been worse than Lucius, but his wife did her best to keep me away from him. Why, I only understood when I had married Lucius and I finally got to realise why she had had to lock Abraxas in so many times."

"And you didn't leave the manor?", Ginevra asked, at Ron's left.

"Why. Why should we have done that. If Lucius had left, he would have been shunned, outcast, hunted. You know well the habits in our families. There is a reason why Pure-Blood defenders stay among themselves. Because they are so much alike, in principles – and ability to cruelty just to keep their ideology alive. If Lucius had left, Abraxas would have denied him."

"You know what our aunt did to Sirius.", Andromeda threw in. "You know what she did to me. If you run away, if you decide to no longer be part of the family; and if it is solely to build your own life; you are no longer wanted. You are – scum that has no rights, you are as much an enemy as any who disagrees with the `high, noble laws that are the only way to save wizardkind´."

"They would have hunted us down, beat every breath out of us until there would have been less left than empty shells. You are familiar with the knacks our sister had. She was not a rare sight. The only difference was that she was acting in the open, rather than behind thick, ancient walls. I loved Lucius, so we stayed – made our jokes about Abraxas, and respected him for the proud man he was when walking his halls sober."

"How could you have born that – ", aspirated Hermione, not missing that Narcissa's quiet voice was becoming more forceful the longer she talked, but nevertheless didn't show a raise of volume.

"Lucius never spoke of what his mother hid under her high buttoned robes, and I am not sure whether he ever really knew. We never talked about it. It was present, but it was taboo. When they were locked in, we never heard anything. You know well the spells to keep secrets hidden from any ear. Nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard. No evidence, nothing there to question."

"That doesn't sound like an even slightly bearable life,", Ron straightened with his eyebrows narrowed and wrapped Hermione's hand more firmly.

"She slept in, peacefully, locked in with her drunken husband. Of course he was devastated, but he did not lose a word. She was carried out, covered from everyone's eyes, buried behind the manor. Abraxas didn't speak. People; outsiders; still say he died from Dragon Pox, that year later – from the ulcer that has infested our families long ago."

"Blimey – ", the whisper came so quiet only Hermione noticed it, giving him a short, angry side-glance.

"We said, he died from a broken heart. What really killed him, is out of question. He is dead. He did not speak, and cannot speak about it anymore. Dragon Pox took him away. His wife slept in. Lucius had been crushed by the causes of a war. And it does not do you any good to shake your head, girl. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Toujours Pur. Satisfy yourself with the fact that Lucius and I had married out of love, as much as my sister and Ted had, rather than what the rest of us would have and had done it for."

"So that's it? You will always be a Black? Always be a Malfoy?"

"These families have seen so many wars,", Hannah said something for the first time, "But they will always be what their ancestors meant them to be."

"That's medieval.", Hermione grunted. "We are a year away from a new millennium."

"I thought, one like you would not be able to understand it."

"One like me?", the young woman snarled.

"Well, of course. For you it seems easy to just stand up to the world and – "

"If it interests you, your son's just doing exactly that.", huffed Hermione. "He's standing up to the madness the lot of you have been defending brutally for so many centuries – "

"And it is on me to keep him from burning like this foolish Icarus, who believed that Muggles could fly a better flight than any, even better than a bird. I do encourage his ideas, but I am his mother and it is my obligation to take care of him."

"But that doesn't mean you have to keep up that mania your families have been practising for so long!"

"You still don't understand, girl."

"She's got a name,", Ron hissed.

"This war may be over, but there are still people out there who do not support people like you, regardless of that person who seems to have made it their duty to slay them all. There will always be witches and wizards who hate Muggles and knowing Muggles that are disgusted by us, as much as there will always be white people who hate black people and the other way round. Racism has ever been there since people of different tribes had met coincidentally in wide lands. Minds can be changed, but only minds that have suffered from inequity. A heart that hasn't bled, will not know what those that had, do feel like. You ask why I let my son step down onto his father's corpse and retrieve a ring? Because he has to see that while some things may be immortal, others aren't."

"But – "

"He has gotten to discover his father's flaws, very painfully, and he will have to learn it even more that we are all just human and that it is in human nature to have flaws and learn to convert those to something positive. He has to learn that we all one day will go back to nature, that nothing is forever and that no matter how much he curses Lucius now, he is dead and it doesn't help anyone that he curses him or is unable to cry for him. But it will help him to understand that his father, no matter how strong he seemed to be, was as weak as any, that he was human, not some sort of god and that he himself isn't either. You want to know why I let him invite one more corpse to his dreams? Because I don't want him to make exactly the mistake that has ever been present in our families. You are said to be intelligent. But why, I ask you, do you then argue with me, confessing that you haven't even listened?"

"They are too young to understand that.", Molly sighed, walking past them with a basket of laundry.

"We've seen a war too, Mum.", snorted her daughter.

"Yes. Twice. And I might not be able to understand why they are like this, because I've grown up with tolerating parents. And of course I can accept that some things are simply what they are.", Hermione gnarled. "But I've also seen that there are other ways. No, I can't understand why Pure-Blood supporters seem to be so arrogant and genuine that they mostly can't be converted but have to be killed. As she said, there is always a way to make someone understand. It's that twist in her opinion I don't get."

"There is no twist in my opinion; if you had listened – "

"It's cruel that people have to suffer in order to understand what suffering means, but I guess that's also in human nature, isn't it? It's this cruel life in which fathers have to deny their sons so they don't die from care, isn't it? That life in which you have to abandon loved ones so they aren't too bond to others. That life in which you have to kick your children out so they can grow up, other than holding them close, explaining it thoroughly.", she was on her feet and turned to leave.

"So you want to do it the Umbridge-way then?", Ginevra suggested angrily. "Teaching them the theory of hurt and believe they'll know then and won't hurt anyone? Some people might possess enough ethics to not do things that might hurt others. Some people might have enough imagination. But I agree with Narcissa. Not everyone has this imagination and the ones who haven't, seem to be bound to having to learn their lesson as brutally as possible. If you want it done thoroughly but not hurt too much, you'll have to bring them to the truth slowly."

"And what do you suddenly know about that?"

"Well, I've seen what sudden truth can do to a caring heart. I've seen him collapse in the Entrance Hall."

"What?"

"Yes.", Ginevra had stood up as well. "I've seen what the message has done to him and it's been just his friend. _You_ , have only lost a friend, if I may remind you."

"Stop it, okay?"

"Oh no, I won't stop it.", snarled the ginger. "You've had months to get it, but you didn't. Dwelling in self-pity doesn't bring him back. You don't understand? Well, lucky you. You never lost a father. He didn't want him to lose another, because he himself knew what it was like to lose a mother, and later – "

"I know what you're driving at, but – "

"If you know that much, then I don't need to make you understand, or do I?", Ginevra huffed. "He knew what it was like and wanted to keep Harry away from another experience like that. He failed. So he threw himself onto that duty even more. But it doesn't matter how hard I'll try to explain, you won't know until you lost someone."

"I've lost my sister!", Hermione was close to tears, but so was Ginevra, her expression as cold as Narcissa's.

"What?", Ron gasped. "Could anyone tell me what's – "

"She wasn't even born yet! You know nothing, Hermione! Nothing! Don't try to judge people if you never felt what they felt! Harry plasters his walls with photos of dead Death Eaters? Well, I don't mind! I wouldn't mind either if I wasn't going to marry him! Because he has all the right to do that! He has the right to decorate his room with corpses! Because the souls that had been in those bodies, killed his family as well, among so many others! He's got all the right on this satisfaction! That's why he doesn't want to stop these Avengers, not only because they're better than any Auror the Ministry had under their command in centuries! It helps him sleep better! Yes, he used to have nightmares, but they are over. They're over now that he got to see that there is something like justice, even if it's brutal, but sometimes brutality has to be fought with brutality. _Because some people won't get it otherwise_. They're actually rather kind."

" _Rather kind?_ ", shrieked Hermione, not believing what she had to listen to.

"If they were arseholes, they'd let their victims survive much longer than it would take to figure their mistakes. It's much worse if you got tortured to a breaking point and have to live with that memory. No matter if innocent or not. And bless you, I don't even mind having sex beneath those photos, because that, _in my opinion_ , shows just as much how successful their ideology was. And yeah, let the dead rest and all, but blimey, they don't get it anymore anyway."

"And what is your opinion about that?", Hermione addressed someone else, mostly to distract herself as she looked at Ginevra, clearly understanding what her friend referred to and she felt the pain, the fear for her own life, the memory of the night Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her, and much more.

"I think,", everyone of the others startled with their faces zooming at Luna whom they had not seen sitting down on the dresser, "Everyone has to find their own way. You can't change a stubborn mind. They'll have to decide for themselves which of the things you try to tell them, is worthy enough for them to be taken into account. You might not see it, but that goes for you as well. Your opinions aren't easily shattered either. Why then wondering that others are the same?"

"And besides, we're Gryffindors. We stand by our red."

" _What?_ "

From the sitting room, the noise of Hermione's parents coming back from their trip to London via Floo interrupted simply everything they had going on. Molly continued devoting to the laundry, Hermione stomped for her mother and father, Narcissa disappeared upstairs with her sister and the baby, Ginevra asked Luna with a single look whether she wanted to help her preparing lunch, Luna approved with a smile and hopped off the dresser. Left behind at the table, was only a very confused Ron. Hannah had gone to her room too then.

~~#~~

Crawling cold meant to conquer them, and with every minute more passing, neither Harry's cloak, nor their propinquity seemed to be standing the spears, arrows and blades of winter's knights any longer.

"You still want to give it a try?", Harry whispered, but got no response. "Draco?"

At least he still breathed, Harry thought, and tried to get his hand up to his own eyes without pulling the cloak off him. Once he had managed to rub his eyes behind his glasses, he became even more tired. It had stopped snowing, but the silver clouds were still as thick. His look travelled around, eventually reaching Draco's head, which somehow rested against his right collarbone without sliding down. Probably because his forehead had been halted by the side of Harry's chin. Draco's lips stood ajar and a strand of his long hair was dangerously sought inside every time he breathed in. Hannah had once mentioned that since he used her shampoo, his hair had gotten more volume and she had been right, but now his bundles which had been sticky from digging, had been glued to his head by melted snow.

When Harry brushed the strand with some others behind his right ear, Draco shortly seemed to wake up, but he only took a deeper breath through his nose, which resulted in a single snore and a quiet moan before he slightly readjusted the position of his head without noticing. That cost Harry a little chuckle and a smile.

"Draco?", no reaction.

Harry sighed and brushed his head another time, back in thoughts, though regretting it immediately, blinking and frowning heavily straight ahead. Draco had given a tiny whimper and the arm that had laid on Harry's right thigh, slid off. It wasn't too bad, Harry thought. Such things could happen. But curiosity killed the cat, knowingly. Though, was he a cat? Believing himself mad, he gave it a try and ran his fingers through Draco's hair another time. Eyes wide open, his ears perceived a second moan that sounded even delighted and it still wouldn't have bothered him much – if it hadn't been for Draco pulling back his arm, which made his palm come to halt – his breathing indicated that he was really still asleep. Or he was feigning it incredibly well. Harry pulled back his own hand to prevent worse, but the touch actually induced what he had feared: Draco's fingers seemed to be believing that they had gotten hold of a blanket or similar.

"Draco,", Harry moaned slowly and waited some seconds but it didn't work. "Draco!"

With a gasp, he finally startled up, his right hand almost instantly at his face and he murmured into it while he robbed his eyes. The fingers of his left hand however clutched slightly and Harry bit into his lower lip to hold back any sound. Fortunately Draco seemed to have noticed it as he faltered in his move.

"Don't tell me – ", he aspirated, staring over his hand.

"No need to worry. It's just a cushion I conjured and placed there in case your hand might slip off right into that area.", Harry grunted and Draco gasped again, quickly removing his hand.

"Sorry – ", he moaned. "I'm so sorry – "

"I said, _don't worry_. I'm glad just glad you didn't squeeze. That _might_ have hurt.", murmured Harry, but Draco already snorted into his right hand, bright red. "Really funny, yes."

"It's – a quite – tightly stuffed cushion – "

"I'm warning you,"

"But I might have been – ", his left hand very slowly glided back into that specific direction, "Mistaken – "

"Draco!", now Harry slid away to the left.

"Are you sure you don't – "

"Will you shut up?"

"Like it? Argh!", Harry had given him a smack on the back of his head, but he didn't straighten as Harry had expected him to do. "Don't – ", he moaned quietly, his voice suddenly trembling. "I – I promise – I'll do what you say – I'll do everything – "

"Er – "

Some moments passed. Draco only sat curled up, the cloak having slid to his waist, and blubbered out mutters Harry didn't really understand, but those he did, began to worry him. So he carefully held him by the shoulder, trying to make him straighten.

"Please don't – I promise I won't disappoint you – let – let go of me – then I'll do anything – please!"

"Draco?", he had to push him up forcefully, but Draco kept his head lowered, sobbing more than before, with his eyes tightly shut when Harry took his chin and lifted it.

"I p-promise – p-please – "

"Draco!", Harry yelled and his eyes shot open with terror, staring at him as if he was not sure what he saw there. "What the – what's wrong with you?", it took him several seconds to focus his eyes on Harry's, then they sighted the grave and the soil next to it, his mind apparently returning to where he actually was. "Dr-Draco?", but Draco only cried louder and sank against Harry's shoulder. "Sorry – ", Harry had been confused so many times in his life, but the current situation was too much, even for him and he could barely hold Draco. "I – I'm sorry – what's – ", he tried to wrap him into the cloak again, but it wasn't any better. "It's okay if you don't want to tell – but you just really scared me, you know? If there's anything you'd like to – ", Draco shook his head. "Or if I can do something – "

"C-close."

"Close?", Harry lightly pressed him away.

"C-close – i-i-it – p-p– "

"Close it? What shall close?", his eyes shut, Draco gave a barely noticeable nod and Harry shortly turned his head in the direction, understanding. "The grave? You want me to – close the grave?", Draco nodded again, faster and trembling. "Okay.", Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and gave the heap some waves, whereupon the soil slid into the pit and filled it evenly. "It's closed, you see?", Draco wiped off some of his tears, though didn't look. "What was that?", the answer Harry got was only a shaking head. "Fine. I won't force you to tell me now, but I'm curious, you know? I'd really like to understand why you can kick me in the face, but beg for your life if I give you a little clap on the head – that's – just a bit – er – strange – "

"Forget it.", Draco panted, failing at drying his face.

"I won't tell anyone. You know I won't."

"I said – forget it – what – what're you doing – ", Harry had taken some snow and melted it with the warmth of his left hand, which he then held up to Draco's mouth. "Oh – thanks – ", he drank it and Harry gave him some more.

"You could have – ", he said after a third serving, "Conjured some water – into my mouth – "

"I don't want to drown you."

"Well, that's great to know.", Draco mumbled after the last, shivering slightly when Harry's now cold hand was placed on his cheek. "What.", he whispered grim at Harry's still concerned expression. "If you want to kiss me, you should do it now.", huffing, Harry moved his hand to Draco's shoulder.

"You want me to kiss you?", Harry frowned.

"No.", Draco smirked and rolled his eyes away.

"Good."

Both breathed like they had ran for a long while and Harry did his best to hold the seams of his cloak together at Draco's back, studying his shattered face, the bloodshot bluish grey eyes that avoided his look, the now messed, long, fair strands that fell past his shoulders already. Like minutes ago, Harry brushed some of them behind his right ear. That brought him Draco's attention and he gazed at him through an apparent veil of salty water. There were only inches between them, but Harry leant closer, carefully pressing Draco's head to the side and examined a long, thin, very straight scar that ran from the hairline above his ear diagonally down to the edge of his lower jaw, stopping where the corner of his mouth started. Its colour didn't differ much from the rest of Draco's skin, but it was clear enough Harry could feel it with his fingertips.

"How did you get that one?", Harry asked, making Draco curl his lips in search for an explanation.

"Screwed up healing spell."

"I didn't ask how it became a scar."

"Christmas present from last year.", Draco grumbled and looked over to the entrance of the maze.

"Bellatrix?"

"No."

"Voldemort?"

"No."

"Draco?"

"No. I'm not that clumsy."

"That's not funny,"

"I didn't laugh."

"Your Dad?"

"Could you let go of me so I can finally hammer that ring into the stone?"

"Fine, you don't need to tell me. I know I'm right.", Harry sighed. "And pushing me off that brutally doesn't undo anything either.", he added when Draco had jumped up and stomped off.

"You're done?", Draco snapped, having come to halt in front of the dark gravestone, though not daring to stand on the patch.

"Not nearly.", Harry meant and stood up as well.

"Fine. Then get your arse here and cast a shield, just in case that thing explodes, or something.", he took off the ring.

"And how are you going to `hammer´ it into the stone then?", Harry arrived at his side and conjured a shield he hoped to be strong enough to repel heaps of heavy rubble.

"Swish and flick, you Troll.", Draco sighed boredly.

"Oh great. The I-have-an-O-in-my-NEWT-bouncer is back."

"Not my problem that you decided to drop out."

"Do I have to remind that I _did_ take my NEWTs even before _you_ did and that it was _you_ who said – what was it? `I don't see it as that important´?"

"Okay, okay! You won.", Draco grunted. "But I also said `these days´, if I can remember right. They're over."

"Thanks to me.", Harry replied coolly, and Draco took a very deep, frustrated breath, but didn't counter this time.

Four eyes followed a very old silver ring floating towards the gravestone where it met smoothly with the engraved coat of arms, fitting in as if the signet had been cast into it. There was some humming sound and a faint blue glow around the ring as well as above the entire meadow, and as if a cupola of ice was melting from glass, the shield sank to the ground, revealing a high old building that almost mirrored the main manor. Though its windows were dusty, some of them even broken and plants trailed up the walls and through the holes in the windows. It appeared dead. Like a beaten dragon, its remains forgotten and now discovered by two nosy teenagers.

In the centre of the roof was a big dome that could have been an observatory. Some parts of the roofs had caved in, the rest was covered in thick snow and it was hard to tell how long it would withstand. Bushes of long grass were growing around, too massive to be fully hidden under the white blanket. Even though it had been shielded from people for what appeared to be centuries, the building had been completely and utterly at nature's mercy.

"You still want a pond?", Harry chuckled at Draco's stare.

"You must always butt in, right?"

"If I can,"

~~#~~


	68. Chapter 67 - Care of Magical Creatures

– Chapter 67 –

 **Care of Magical Creatures**

If one thing was clear, then it was the danger that laid ahead. But for some peculiar reason, also among wizards existed people to whom such were irresistibly attractive. Wands ready and the ring back on Draco's left middle finger, nothing could deter them from approaching the ruin. At a closer look, the plaster was crumbling off the façade and bricks were bared everywhere. The windows looked even worse now and the only entrance, a high wooden door above a number of marble stairs like at the front of the main manor, looked rather brittle. Altogether it could be said that the ramshackle building was lucky to still be standing.

"Are you absolutely certain you don't want a pond anymore?", moaned Harry, not sure whether the door was supporting the thick tendril that had grown over it and its surrounding like an enormous locking bolt, or the other way round.

"I'd say, we try to get rid of that thing there and enter."

Removing the wooden serpent was far more complicated than they had expected. Though old and presumably dead, the plant turned out to be very much alive and absolutely averse to magic. Draco's Severing Charm was inefficacious, so was Harry's. Both tried again verbally, but only the bark cracked open, before repairing itself with a gnarling sound. Several more attempts lead to the same result.

" _Reducto!_ ", Harry yelled angrily – and was forced to cast a shield within a split second when the tendril tore itself from the building with a tremor and banged into their direction.

"Whow!", Draco gasped, having leapt back and stared at Harry once the plant had slowly taken in its former position. "Nice shield! And hit too!", the bark was actually smouldering and didn't repair anymore.

"I could have gone for worse, but I don't think the house can stand it. Step back. I have an idea."

Standing at reasonable distance now, Harry carefully aimed for the growing carnivore. Draco looked slightly nervous, but without losing focus, he shortly patted at his upper arm, relaxing him notably.

"Okay. The door might be locked. I'll blast that thing off again and try to freeze it. If it works, we'll run over and you try to open the door while I keep an eye on the freak. Once you're inside, I want you to cast a shield instantly. We don't know what'll wait for us there and I don't want us to be on the front page of the _Prophet_ tomorrow.", Draco nodded approvingly. "Alright. On my count. One – two – three – Reducto!", there was an even louder bang and it blasted off again, missing them by a few inches. " _Immobulus!_ ", Harry screamed then and it stayed in its swinging position, yet obviously fighting the bond. "Run!"

Their lives were indeed depending on their speed and they darted for the door. Right when they reached it, the plant managed to break the spell and zoomed at them. Harry produced another shield, giving them some time as Draco had problems unlocking the door with incantations Harry had never heard before, after the standard spells had had no effects. _Click_. Draco pushed the door, but something blocked it. The second wouldn't give in either. Harry became panicking.

"Come on!", he grunted, the shield wobbling curiously with every smack. "It can't be – that difficult!"

"I can't do more than try, okay?", Draco hissed.

"Then hurry! It's starting to – feel like I'm – getting hit too!"

Draco stepped back and kicked the door as hard as he could. The structure was so weakened that the hinges and parts of the frame were torn from the bricks and the door fell inside, coming to lie like a seesaw. A shield ready then, Draco jumped in and Harry after him just when he couldn't have held his own any longer. The tendril slowed down, but hooked itself to the window frame where it had rested, blocking the doorway in a manner it would be almost impossible for them to get back out there without being strangled. Slowly the creaking silence flooded the whole scenery when they began to focus on their new surrounding.

Scarce silvery light fell through the few dusty windows at their right in the rather large two-storey high hall and a hole in the roof, under which snow had formed a pillow over rubble on the marble floor. All of the floor was glistening from tiny dusty shards and a more thorough look up made it clear that the ceiling as well as large portions of the walls must have once been covered with mirrors. Like in the main manor, there was a broad staircase to the right and a double door to the left. Though instead of the fireplace ahead, was another broad door that seemed almost intact. However, there was a big tiled stove in the left corner in front of them. They decided to dedicate to the other door first. It had several holes and hung askew. The plant had destroyed it and had grown across the floor too. Careful not to step on it or any mirror shards and convinced that nothing would come down on them, they stalked the door. Being about two inches taller, Draco could take a peek inside past one of the twines.

"I think it's been some sort of cold greenhouse. The walls are tiled and there are tubs everywhere. Water pipes, but some of them broke. There's a new leak further in the back. It's iced. Most of the troughs are empty, and that plant has swallowed pretty much everything in here. I can see where it had started to grow. It must have grown too big once it hadn't been cut anymore and sought a new source of water. Found it in a sewer on the floor. A lot of windows ahead, but they've had it too, unless we can get rid of that monster. I can see the wall down the end of the room. No door there. If there's one I can't see, we might find it through that over there.", he blindly pointed on the second in the hall and cautiously stepped back. "Not much in there of interest for now. Not as long as the plant's still there."

"Right. we'll try that one then.", Harry nodded and they went over.

"Any idea what that plant might be?"

"Might be some relative of the Devil's Snare, dunno. But maybe Neville knows. If not, Hermione perhaps. There's still a chance that a professional from the Ministry might have a clue.", they laughed and Harry tried to push down the handle. "Great. It's open – oh. Just like I thought."

It was a high square room, approximately sixteen feet in diameter and to their left, a broad spiral staircase made of now partly rusted iron wound itself upwards. They could spot a sort of trapdoor to an attic area. Dark wallpaper was coming off the walls above broken shelves and almost all once gilded iron lamps around too, broken candles everywhere on formerly flat noble parquet. In the middle, on a dark carpet that was almost twice as thick from the dust, stood a large round table on which rolls and rolls of withered and dusty parchment laid like everywhere along the walls where they had fallen out of their broken storage, all writing having faded. To the right, was one more door.

"That'd be the observatory then. But I don't think we should go up there yet. I don't like the condition these stairs are in.", Harry meant. "Let's go on."

The room they entered now had its walls and floor covered in white tiles like the interior greenhouse, but there were no plants growing and the windows were not only dusty, but made of alabaster glass. It was not much bigger than the tower room and held a small shallow pool in the middle. The little rest of the water was stagnant and reeked slightly, but wasn't frozen. It was also slightly warmer in that room than in the lobby, maybe due to none of the windows being broken. Nevertheless dust and dead, long ago dried cockroaches covered the floor. In a corner were some shower cabins, the once delicate curtains partly on the floor too. Wondering what they would find next, they went for another door, to the left.

Cold hit their faces again. A wide part of the roof had come down and landed in – a huge, assumingly deep pool that took in almost all of the rectangular room. Its surface level had sank six feet below the edge and was frozen. The fall of the roof had also caused one of the two gigantic crystal chandeliers to follow. The shape of the pool itself reminded of a wound, winged serpent, with islands that must have held plants and in each wing a now broken fountain rose. Marble half pillars and rich stucco decorated the high walls. The free areas were embellished with realistic landscape paintings, but most colours were long gone and their former intensity could only be guessed. The second floor was a u-shaped gallery with some of the drapes still hanging on the banisters and below big golden lamps on the supporting pillars. They too looked almost as miserable as those in the study before.

Natural light came in through the wall to their right. It was lined with big high windows, but half of them had shattered when the roof had given in. Each of them held a glass door to the rest of the meadow outside, that now wasn't plain anymore, but home to a number of seemingly wild growing oaks. Though either of them knew they must have been planted inside the high border walls of the premise.

"You still want a pond?", Harry chuckled like many minutes ago and bore being pushed aside.

"Honestly. Grow up."

"What was that with the tightly stuffed cushion again?", Harry grinned.

"Shut up.", grumbled Draco. "I want to know what's upstairs. Come on."

Much quicker, they went back to the lobby and up the broad marble staircase that led into an open room with ornamental wooden floor above the bath, the windows up there intact as well and overlooking the woods behind the fringe wall. Most of delicate curtains and drapings on the inside wall had come down and were as moth eaten as the uncountable accumulations of elaborately crafted cushions and ottomans taking away the view large portions of the floor boarding. Tarnished candle stands here and there in between, some had fallen over. As the coffered ceiling was made of ebony wood, their soot was barely visible behind spider webs.

While Draco studied the peculiar chattels as they crossed the hall, Harry couldn't miss the large portraits at their left, on the inside wall. Frowning at almost every he walked on wordless, not deigning to point out the moving nudes of chipping paint. The chips changing position on the canvases stunned Harry more than the reason anyway.

At the hall's its end, they could enter the gallery. More big canvases hung at the long wall and they passed golden framed still-life after golden framed still-life against wooden panelling, their paint in even worse condition as the previous, placed between more half pillars and golden lamps that hadn't burnt in ages. Above the greenhouse, behind another double door, they found a sort of sitting room with dusty bookshelves of dark wood, old black settees with golden ornaments and of course, the upper part of the tiled stove. Strangely untouched by the plant that had come through some of the windows in here as well and crawled over the parquet floor which had indeed suffered from that, a black grand piano and a big harp stood at the end of the light room

Almost simultaneously they approached the instruments. Nearly all strings of the harp had snapped and thick dust made the piano more grey than black. Its varnish was peeling off like the wallpaper below the observatory. Harry felt kind of sorry for it and, in the corner of his eye, saw Draco being the same. He opened the lid and found the black and white keys of ivory and ebony reversed. Images though flashed before his eyes. Blood being wiped off shining keys. As shining as the tears had been, coming from eyes so dark they could have been carved from the very same ebony tree as the keys that lay before Harry's.

Hesitantly, his hand moved towards them and he pressed one. The sound was as if it might have been played on the previous evening. Clear and full. He pressed it again and played two more upwards, very slow. Did it another time, then the last two once more. Though never having played a piano before, it was as if his fingers knew what to do. He played along the memory, with one hand first. Then with the other, deeper, trying to get the same melody at the same time. It wasn't enough. He tried a chord with his left hand. The piano didn't even sound much out of tune. He tried another. A third, a fourth. He had no idea what he was doing, but he pressed the keys he could remember having seen and sought for the others, comparing them to the song. Surprised himself, it only took him about a minute. With a deep breath, he sat down on the dusty, black cushioned double-stool and played, still slow, but he played the song, despite his glasses seemed to have received a shower, despite Draco breathing through his hand, crying like him. When he didn't know further, Harry stopped.

"He – he played that – ", Draco gargled. "I heard him play it – in his room once – "

"Thought so. That's a song he wrote for my mother."

"Is – is it?", blinking heavily, Harry turned his head up to him.

"Didn't Hermione let you watch the – oh – you came straight in, right.", Draco nodded flatly.

"You never let me either."

"Well, I better shouldn't show you then. You wouldn't see much of it anyway, if you cry already from that song."

"Perhaps,", chuckled the blond and wiped off some tears. "I had no idea you play piano."

"I don't.", Harry considered. "It's been the first time."

"You're kidding?"

"No. But Hermione does. I think, I should ask her for some lessons."

"No chance. I already asked her. She's too busy with her Thesis."

"But she can't go to school forever, can she? What's she writing about anyway? She didn't say – "

"First she wanted to do it about death, then she meant she'd combine it with Ancient Runes and already started translating a book. But she was totally upset about herself."

"Oh yes. I remember. She was really furious when I mentioned Dumbledore again after she's slammed our door at Hallowe'en."

"She meant she'd let him rest for a while, dunno. Picked up that S.P.E.W. thing again. I guess she really wants to get into the Ministry."

"Ginevra said something like that too. She's driving her mad with comparing Houseelves and Goblins and she already had an interview for that department before they told her that she'd need some NEWTs. Ginevra thinks she's after Cresswell's old job. Well, Mockridge came back after Cresswell's death, but he'd rather stayed retired. There are already jokes going around in the departments."

"Jokes?"

"Things like – well, `That _mock-rich_ is actually broke´. Some really believe he does it for the money. Others say he's too proud to let anyone else deal with Goblins. Cresswell's been really good from what I got to hear from the Order. People even claim to know Mockridge's part Goblin. You know, he's rather small, has dark eyes – maybe he is, who knows. I say he just worked with them for too long and acquired their attitude over the years. We'll see where she goes. Whether it'd be Goblins or Houseelves – as long as she doesn't knit more than Molly or initiates another Goblin war by wanting to knit for them too, I don't care."

"Oh gosh – just imagine – all goblins at Gringotts wearing woollen hats – "

"They'd rather kill her before they'd wear such, I think.", Harry chuckled. "Hopefully she's clever enough to figure that."

"Hope so too,", Draco smirked and sat down as well – and startled. "What the – ?", both heads zoomed up at the muffled rumbling, some dust fluttering down on Harry.

"Sounds like there's a Ghoul in the attic.", Harry meant and took off his glasses for cleaning. "Let's hope, he doesn't crash down on our heads. Er – thanks.", Draco had brushed the dust from his hair.

"Wait. There's more on your face."

"Then they'll believe us that we've been in a damaged old wrack of a house."

"It looks like you cried clay.", he wiped some of it off, smearing it. "Damn. Now it looks worse."

"Who cares. I'll wash it off with some snow outs– "

"I care.", Draco cut him quietly and continued, ignoring the stare.

"Done?"

"No. There's still some on your shoulder – ", he gently patted it off; rumbling and dust fell again.

"And on the other,", Harry sighed boredly.

"Yes.", snickered Draco but brushed that off as well. "And your nose."

"Give it a bone.", smirked Harry.

Though Draco peered at the dust he kept wiping away, ignoring that it was gone already, slightly steaming Harry's glasses with his breath, at first. More dust rained on either head now with another rumbling, but it sounded like many miles away. The room was miles away. The piano was. There was only different shades of dark grey between eyes and lids, and a little lower, nothing in between anymore. Nothing but warm breath circulating. The caring hand had slid down on another where hesitant fingers caught it, somewhat hanging on two thighs, each belonging to one of them.

They had no knowledge of time, other than that at some point, the hands were back up, joining their siblings' motions, until every move became slower and slower and faded, stopping at last in an embarrassing silence. Outside the dirty windows, snow was falling from the sky, much colder, much brighter than the dust the Ghoul had decorated them with. Lids blinked, lifting as slow. Distance was back – and entirely fresh air to each of their lungs.

"We – ", Harry whispered, still in a trance, "We'd better go.", the answer was a limp nod and they closed the lid of the piano together.

Exchanging not a single word on their way, they went downstairs and left the ruin through one of the glass doors at the back. Dusk was crawling up in the east, behind the silvery-grey clouds and snow mingled with the dust in their hair as they trenched their tracks through the untouched blanket of long, ochre grass and then bright snow only, past an oak. By that tree, Draco had already wrapped his arms around himself, shivering from the temperature and Harry quietly threw half of his wide, black winter cloak over him again, holding it down at his shoulder.

Having walked it too many times, Draco brought them quickly through the maze, along the front of the main manor and down the path between the high hedges. One wing of the high iron gate still stood open, and once they had passed it, it closed behind without being touched. With only a very quiet _pop_ , Harry Apparated them back to the border of the Fidelius Charm that was still cast over The Burrow and its surrounding. Granted access automatically, they stepped over, towards the source of different smells.

Some of it was definitely supper and they were brutally reminded by their stomachs that neither contained lunch. The other was cigarette smoke. Wrapped in thick cloaks, the sisters stood by the closed door to the kitchen, enthusiastically venting on the third sister that had been swept out of the way to everyone's relief.

"I would have let her locked in there forever, but no, you had to open the chest.", Narcissa sighed. "What use was that Silencing Charm when she banged the lid with everything she could move."

"If I had known it was Bella and not you, I wouldn't have paid attention, you know that. You had better stayed where I could see you."

"Well, I couldn't risk being caught by Father. He would have accused me immediately, even though I had made sure that Bella hadn't seen who had thrown her in."

"So you would have rather left me to his fists?", Andromeda giggled.

"Why, yes, of course!", sang Narcissa. "Because he knew you would hit back as hard as he'd hit you,"

"That is right.", they both laughed brightly. "Oh my – they're back – "

"Where have you been so long?", Draco's mother moaned. "That is our fifth since lunch!", she brandished with her cigarette.

"The only chance to flee from her wailing.", said Andromeda. "Ginny was close to tying her onto the kitchen table with a dishtowel in the mouth. At least that was what she yelled at her as a consequence if she wouldn't shut up. I am used to much, but if my daughter had said that to me – beware, Harry. You plan marrying this thing. She has got even more of a Veela than Phlegm – oh pardon, Fleur.", that even cost Draco a grin, but Harry's was bigger.

"You might not believe it, but I know. Seems to be some family knack in mine; we're all sort of a mix of Harpies and Red Caps that fall for the same. Guess that's why I love her. Though I'm still waiting for either of us to grow wings, actually."

"And what have you been doing?", Narcissa asked again. "Is that dust?"

"Oh – yes.", Draco meant, a little absent minded. "A Ghoul powdered us."

"Ghoul?"

"We'd better tell you at supper."

~~#~~

"All in all this sounds like a whole lot of expensive, dangerous work.", Arthur advanced his opinion.

"We'll see.", Draco meant, having eaten his last spoonful of stew. "I'll order inspection and an estimate. By then the Goblins should be done with appraising, I think. But I want it to be done as fast as it's possible without any risks. Considering how quickly Hogwarts was restored by teachers, I'm positive that specialists will have it done in no time."

"There's going to be a party, by the way. Slughorn's sent out invitations to all of us. Here're yours.", Neville got up to get them from a shelf.

"` _Revolution Revival_ ´.", Harry ostentatiously read the header. "In the Room of Requirement. Slytherin- and Death-Eater-free zone, teachers excepted? What? Dress code – everything considered legal and not too frightening or _too less_?"

"Same as last year, but yes.", Neville explained. "Anthony Goldstein turned up in a pink bikini of his sister and a golden feather boa. Was great fun, though I think, Slughorn wasn't too fond.", Draco spluttered some milk on his apple pie.

"That's not what I saw,"

"Yeah.", Ginevra confirmed, handing him her unused napkin.

"Thanks."

"Those stares of his were far from disgusted, if you ask me.", she snickered.

"Anyway,", Neville carried on, "I hope they'll have that amazing clock again. Banged loudly and shot cold fireworks at midnight. The entire room was a sparkling madness. You'd been blown away, Luna, literally.", he nodded to her. "We really missed you there."

"Oh I had my own firework at Christmas already,", she smiled. "It was quite fun. Unfortunately those Death Eaters didn't seem to like it much."

"I don't know.", Harry pondered.

"What don't you know?", Ron chuckled.

"Whether I'd go there."

"You said that about the presentation too."

"Well, I wasn't there,"

"But you really raided the buffet,"

"And that means something, if _he_ says it.", Hermione noted.

"Hey! I didn't – "

"And how you did, Ron. Twelve sandwiches and three times refilling that bowl of salad with chicken you didn't let go. No. Of course that wasn't much."

"I'm an Auror! That's exhausting work!"

"Sure. As if playing chess had ever been exhausting. _Don't_ deny, Ronald. Harry's told me everything."

"Now that's not fair, mate,"

"Sorry.", Harry sang. "Still I don't think I'll – "

"You have to go, Harry.", Hermione pestered him now.

"Not really. It doesn't say anything about obligations here – ", he eyed the flier.

"Don't get childish now. Of course Slughorn wants you to be there. I mean, we all want you to be there, not?", she shortly glanced around.

"She's right.", Ron said. "You're the man, Harry. If you don't go there, everyone's angry with you. The entire world. Do yourself a favour and have some fun."

"See, even Ron agrees with me.", Hermione went on.

"Hey!"

"Don't lock yourself away from people, you hear me? I'm sure, Ginny doesn't want to marry a phantom."

"What's that supposed to mean?", Harry frowned.

"Get social, honestly."

"But I _am_ social. After all I'm sitting here with – twelve people and a baby? Oh no – if we don't count Teddy as a person yet, I might be killed if I leave the table first."

"Keep Trelawney out of that, will you?", grunted Hermione. "I'm serious."

"No, you're Hermione.", he said so quickly and casually that half of them didn't even catch immediately why the other half laughed.

"That is _not_ funny.", she mumbled almost unheard, though couldn't help smirking at her empty plate either. "I just don't want you to end up slaying criminals."

"You shouldn't be so obsessed with that, Hermione.", Luna said, keeping up the laughter, but not only Hermione knew what she had meant with that.

~~#~~

"What the heck is he doing in there?"

"No idea. All I know is that I'm dying to go to the loo.", Ginevra grunted. "Draco!", she hammered at the door. "Get your buttocks moving or I'll bomb you out!"

"Give me a minute please – ", his voice could be heard behind the locked door.

"There'll be a grand yellow lake on the landing in a minute, you fashion horse!"

"Second – "

"Second's over!"

"Two more – "

"I have my wand pointed at the door!", she really had now, making Harry and Ron stumble a few stairs down in panic. "On three you're out! One!", the lock clicked and the door was torn open from inside.

"Easy, Umbridge.", Draco chuckled, the moment he had noticed her fluttery dress to be soft pink.

"Out of the way, Myrtle.", she puffed and rushed in, her dress becoming light green at a tap of her wand before she slammed the door shut with a flick once he was out.

"Whow!"

Ron's eyes were as big as Harry's when they saw the result of what he had done in the bathroom. Parts of his freshly washed hair that fell past his shoulders, were woven back with braids thinner than most wands, in a crisscross pattern over the loosely falling rest and only the shorter hair at the front framed his face in a floating side parting. He had put on the high buttoned white robe with silver embroidery which he had worn at the Start-of-Term Feast, though without the cloak.

"You're sure that'll survive?", Ron gave an amused snort, his simple beige suit being studied likewise. "I mean, Harry _does_ wear a robe,", it was of a very dark and decorated purple with elegant black buttons and almost reached his ankles, "But he's got his hair normal. It's a _party_. You know what that means?"

"I have my hair `normal´ because it's nearly impossible to do anything with it but letting it do what it wants."

"So you say, if it wasn't crazy, you'd have it something like _that_?", Ron brandished, nearly poking Draco's eye.

" _That,_ wasn't easy, if you're interested. Gluing the ends of braids in a way you'll get them loose again is horror. Mum can tell you quite a number of stories about that.", grunted Draco.

"And you're blessed with miraculously great hair, Ron.", Harry noted. "Don't forget that.", the door opened again behind Draco.

"Are the sissies done out here? A lady wants to return to her room as her toes are getting cold."

"Well of course, Madam.", Draco dropped a courtesy and squeezed himself to the wall.

"I'm not married yet, Anthony."

"And I am _not_ gay,"

"Nor is he. Still you'd make the best lesbian couple in the world.", Ginevra sang and they heard her bang the door of her room.

"Stop acting as if this house was a fortress!", her mother yelled from upstairs and slammed a door herself.

"At least there's proof where she's got her temper from.", Draco meant. "Er, Harry, I'd like to have a word with you."

"I'm not the one who's spreading rumours about you being gay,"

"And I'll hate Luna forever for that tricky comment, you know that. But I'd like to get something straight before the year's over."

"What. Yourself?", Ron grinned.

"I'll get something askew if you don't shut away those tempting rows immediately,"

"Just try."

"You'd be surprised how much I learned from my father. Bellatrix had been among the selected blessed ones."

"And I guess, you count my nose too.", Harry considered.

"Yeah. That one too. But it's been the only nose."

"Not that there's been much nose present in your standard company, has there?", chuckled Ron.

"Drop it, okay? Harry – "

"What's it about?", Harry asked.

"Er – the Ghoul."

"Why would you want to discuss our Ghoul with him? So urgently?"

"Not the Ghoul you think, Ron. My room? Your room? _The barn?_ "

"Rather the battlefield.", Draco smirked. "Hannah's still dressing too, I think."

Leaving Ron by the bathroom before he could fling more remarks, they hurried one floor up and locked the door behind. Draco lit both lamps with a quick snap of his wand while Harry saw to their privacy.

"I still can't believe that Ginny tolerates that. Hannah wouldn't let me sleep with such photos on the wall."

"You wouldn't let yourself either."

"Perhaps.", Draco strolled over to the big pencil scratching and its translation. "Those names and dates are simply transcribed?"

"Yes."

"But – that line – it's – I'm not that good at deciphering runes or anything alike, but it's not English."

"No. That _is_ Gaelic."

"And how did you get – "

"Here.", Harry got his copy of Hermione's runes book and opened it for him at the right page. "She must have been to Godric's Hollow at some point before Hallowe'en. That's exactly what's on the grave and she transcribed it into Gaelic first, then roughly translated it into English.", Draco nodded on it.

"` _Block the well_ ´."

"Now. We only have a couple of minutes. What did you want to discuss?", when Harry let go of the book, it simply floated onto his desk and settled down; Draco slowly turned to him.

"That yesterday – ", he curled his lips, "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No. But I'll tell Ginevra."

"Alright.", Draco took a deep breath and avoided his look. "And it's Gin _e_ vra, for once. You're the second one making that mistake, and that's rich, considering that you're – "

"No, _Gin_ evra."

"If Molly does, she calls her Gin _e_ vra."

"And she likes _Gin_ evra better. If it interests you, she hates both her actual and her nickname. But she's in love with that pronunciation, somehow."

"Tz. And he knew it of course.", Draco mumbled.

"He?"

"Never mind."

"Okay, well, that's not the point anyway. Listen. I love her, no matter what you or anyone else prefers to call her against her will. And I don't really care what you feel for Hannah. That's your business."

"I love her too."

"Well, great.", Harry said serious. "Then everything's clear. I won't tell you what to do, though I'll tell _Gin_ evra what happened. It might hurt her, but I can't live with hurting her more by not being honest. She has the right to know, even if it's been a one-off."

"Harry? Draco?", Hermione's voice was muffled by the door, but was clearly upset, which she emphasized with such fierce knocking, Harry feared she might demolish the poor wood. "I know you're in there and I know you can hear me! What the heck are you doing! We're leaving!", she hammered another time and stomped downstairs.

"Damn! You two are dating the most gentle beings in the world! Guess, I'm really safe with Hannah."

"Fine. Thanks for understanding. We'll better go before the rush comes in pairs.", huffed Harry and turned but was stopped by a hand on his right wrist. "What?"

"Er – I didn't really have time to say – well – thanks for bearing me company there. It really meant the world to me.", Draco aspirated. "Also if we hadn't – you know what – "

"No problem. It was nice, getting out. I'd already forgotten how much fun sneaking around and fleeing from monstrous plants can be. Thanks for making me realise."

"Any time."

Awkward shadows were painted on their faces by the two sources of light and for some moments either of them just studied the other's face. Then Draco let go and took a step through between Harry and the desk, apparently meaning to head for the door first, but the wrist he had dropped was suddenly held against his left collarbone and a number of fingers laid on his shoulder, stopping him in place.

Just like Harry had predicted it, approximately two minutes later, Hermione was back, muttering and stomping, but this time she wasn't alone. The demanding voice of her friend tore them apart with some unnecessary information.

"Whatever you try, Draco,", Ginevra huffed, "You can't weave Harry's hair. It does that either on its own or not. Get out there and live with the fact that some things don't want to be controlled. And Harry, Mum's furious. If you don't want to depend on secret meals from Kreacher for the next month, I suggest you get off the stick.", Draco's eyes gaped.

"That's an idiom.", Harry explained hastily. "I don't reckon she meant what you've got on your mind – er – and – actually – ", he blinked wildly at a certain lower point and finally managed to reach the door then, accompanied with some frustrated puffing of the blond. "You better not let anyone catch you trying to hide that. I swear, get caught and I can't promise I'll make up a story for what we've been doing in here."

~~#~~

Desert heat, the stifling smell of too much perfume and sparkling pastel drapery as if a huge discoball had exploded in a babyshower. Christmas tinsel had been repurposed to decorate the parts of the walls that weren't covered with fabric. In between, colour changing tinsel balls that only Luna seemed to really appreciate. The huge gramophone in a corner played boogie, but nobody had claimed the dancefloor yet. They were all busy emptying their glasses to compensate the temperature while chatting with classmates or staff. Greeted lively by the one or other Order member, Hermione had decided to avoid being seen by Slughorn, along with Ginny. Harry hadn't been so lucky, but Ron stayed for his defence. With a last glance back, she could have sworn that Harry's robe had been longer before they had entered the Room of Requirement.

The girls sat themselves with other girls from the DA at one of the tables along the walls, but Hermione didn't feel much like talking. Especially when they started going on about unfair gameplay in the National Quidditch League. Ignoring everyone at her table she had her head turned to study the guests, until a voice from the other side made her startle so bad she could barely avoid a shriek and didn't even notice her table had fallen silent.

"What?", was all she could gargle, while Ginny greeted him with a casual –

"Hey.", which was ignored though.

"I said, you seem to need a drink."

The young man with full beard towering her looked somewhat familiar, but due to the noise around, Hermione hadn't even recognised his voice either. Probably though because he seemed to have lost quite a bit of his accent since they had last met. What his chin had gained in hair, the rest of his head had lost. She had to confess, the short shave suited him somehow, but he looked much older and grumpier now. Still his humble smile was the same.

"Oh my gosh! Hi!"

She gasped and jumped up, making the table shake and the other girls giggle. But her golden high heels were no benefit, so Viktor had to save her from stumbling over by quickly flinging his right arm around her waist.

"Forgiff me. I did not mean to startle you."

"Not at all!", she breathed, her flat hands against his round shoulders.

"Can you stand?"

"I – I think so – "

"Good."

He let go, if though cautiously and waited for her to retrieve her hands as well. Hermione however was still too startled to move. Blinking heavily at his curious smirk that grew into an amused smile, she felt as if someone had doubled the heat in the room.

"Hello.", Viktor chuckled with a grin.

"Hi.", she aspirated, yet more definite now, just as if she had gotten hold of her situation the very moment. "Again. Uhm – drinks – right – let's – let's go – "

As he lead her away from the table, she could barely hear Ginny tell the others to shut up. On their way he didn't say a word though, but made sure he walked slow enough to allow her a secure step. Several guests turned after them, but he was used to ignore such. So after a while, she found herself at the bar opposite to the entrance.

"Vot vould you like?"

"What?"

"To drink."

"Oh – sorry – I don't even know what they serve."

"The lady looks like she desperately needs an Ocky Rot. Look who's here, Ron."

"Huh?", it required him to be turned around by Harry to abandon his Firewhisky, leaving Slughorn to continue the one-sided conversation alone without even noticing. "Bloody hell!"

"Bloody beard, rather.", laughed Harry as he briefly hugged Viktor, looking like he regretted it upon the firm pat his back received.

"Sorry.", Viktor mumbled, having noticed it.

"No worries. It's just been a while since I won a match. Normally the hugs I get aren't that firm, if it's not Hagrid."

"What's Ocky Rot?", Hermione wondered.

"Some red wine, according to the menu. So? How's it going?"

"Going vell.", Viktor shrugged. "Business is as usual, but there aren't any matches now. You? I heard you still threat the evil guys?"

"Nah. Not as much as I should. Only that I get paid for it now. What I heard was that your lot's beaten up Greece pretty badly in the Balkan Cup?"

"That vos a rough party. They beat us up alike."

And again, although having gotten her glass of very fruity berry wine, she felt in the wrong place. From girls talking about Quidditch to boys talking about Quidditch. Was there ever any other topic for conversations? Even Slughorn' soliloquies sounded more thrilling to her albeit not understanding much in light of the background noise.

"Very vell. You excuse iff I kidnap your girlfriend a little longer?"

"You ask me about that?", chuckled Ron.

"You are still his girlfriend, aren't you?"

"Yes.", both panted.

"What if she wasn't? Would you've not kidnapped her?"

"I vould have merely been disappointed, because I alvays knew you belong together."

"Er – "

"Hermione, I think, the table in that corner over there is more quiet."

He pointed at a small free table at the very back corner, almost lying in shadows from the drapery. This time however he did offer his arm so she could support herself. That made it much easier to balance the glass over. Only when he put down his own glass to pull the chair back for her, she noticed that he had gotten the same drink. When he had done so, she must have missed. Thanking him, she sat down as he pushed the chair onto its former spot before he would sit down in a slight angle to her left so they wouldn't need to raise their voices too much for understanding each other. Also their backs faced the room, which granted them a little more privacy from stares.

"Now tell me, Hermione.", she gasped again, as it was probably the first time he had ever said her name completely correctly. "How are _you_."

"I – I'm fine!"

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?", he only shrugged.

"Sorry if I am making you nervous."

"You're not.", she shook her head.

"Of course I am. But there is no need, really. In fact there is news that should calm Ronald as well. Nadezhda and I am going to marry."

"What? Oh my god – that – that's wonderful!", Hermione beamed, finally with her thoughts where she should be. "Congrats!"

"Thank you. She would haff vanted you to attend it, but we could only get a date for her dream location during your NEWT week."

"Wait – she wanted me to come to your wedding?"

"Yes. After all she has read all of your letters and insists you haff enouff in common to become friends."

"Interesting.", she wasn't sure if she should be delighted about the compliment or frightened that her ex had shared their letters with his fianceé. "But it seems, it's got its benefits that her mum's from Birmingham. You've lost quite a bit of your accent."

"Haff I?"

"Well, not all, but a lot, actually. And you've become more fluent."

"Hm. That could be true. We often speak English at home to improve mine."

"You've definitely made more progress than Fleur.", he shared her laugh.

"Yes. I had a little chat with her earlyer and you might be right."

"Why could you only book Nadehzda's dream location during that week? One should think, you, being the celebrity you are, had better means?"

"Only if I vos unscrupulous. But we vant a quiet, small vedding, safe from journalists. Got to make compromises."

"Certainly. So I guess, you're just here to tell me that, in case your owl might be caught?", that gave him pause.

"No.", he blinked heavily. "But good thinking. No, that is only vhy I didn't tell you in a letter. I'm here on Professor Slughorn's invitation. You might know – "

"That he likes to adorn him with fame, yes."

"Yes. Though how could I refuse an official order to see my friends again?"

"Charming."

"So how is your Thesis coming along?"

"Differently, since my last letter.", Hermione puffed. "I could strangle McGonagall. I was a good quarter done when she told me I should stop philosophising about death or get myself a therapist. So I changed it to be about the history and enslavement of beings that are capable of our language."

"Elves."

"Yes. And Goblins, among others."

"Still pleading for their rights, I see. Good choice."

"Maybe. She might be right though. That's things I can research. My biggest source for afterlife theories has left me."

"I thought you are surrounded by ghosts here? I could svear I had seen Sir Nicolas talking to Miss Ravenclaw in a distant corner on my vay up here. And vat about Harry?"

"You're right. But I was also meaning to analyse what loss does to the magical genome, how it influences suppression, possibly up to denial of any magical abilities or the other way, leading to overuse of magic."

"And you think, Professor Snape vos your only valuable source in the matter?"

All she could do was stare at Viktor. Never had it occurred to her that he had listened to her so thoroughly, understood what was on her mind, her heart. Had she been honest to herself, she would have had to reconsider her congratulations. Apparently he wasn't as short-minded as she used to think. But she knew she wouldn't want a life with Viktor. Her heart had other priorities.

"Do you still carry Professor Karkaroff's body with you?"

"What?", Hermione startled from her thoughts again. "Uh – no – I – I buried him with his best friend."

Of course that was a lie. There was no such grave she could have placed that single bone in and she still had hope she would meet Severus again one day, so she could leave that task to him. The thorough look Viktor gave her however, made her unsure whether he had believed her.

"A right choice. He vos a little lunatic, but probably because he had almost no friends to keep him on the ground. I still find it incredible that he managed to feign his death so vell as to fool Death Eaters. Also in regard of all the Dark Magic he has openly shown us, it is even more incredible that he fought for the good, in the end.", Hermione nodded only. "Vot I don't understand though is that serial killer Ronald and Harry haff to deal with. How can this person kill Death Eaters but support Grindelwald? Is it because they vere not consequent enouff with their ideology?"

"Oh no, no!", she sang hectically. "These murders have nothing to do with Grindelwald!"

"How can you know?", Viktor blinked hectically.

"Well, actually, I'm not supposed to talk about anything that goes on in the Auror Office. I've sworn a binding oath."

"Then don't?", he sighed.

"But if it is my personal opinion, without revealing any secret information, I guess I'm fine."

"If you say so,"

"I mean, it's not that your question would require me to reveal any certain information. It's just speculation. Very likely the truth, but not one hundred percent guaranteed."

"Vot do you mean?"

"Well, if the person is behind it whom I think it is, these murders don't have anything to do with Grindelwald."

"Enlighten me."

"The problem is, I can't tell Harry or Ron, because I made a promise to not reveal to them that this person is still alive. Also I'm in no current contact with them, so I can't just go and ask them. But if it is them,"

"And vot makes you think, they don't support Grindelwald's ideas? Help him back to power?"

"Well, as I said, I know the person. And how is Grindelwald supposed to get back to power? He's dead! Yes, he _is_ dead."

"Vot?", faltered Viktor.

"He is. Harry saw Voldemort kill him? Through Voldemort's mind, but yes."

"Vait – and you couldn't tell me this earlier?"

"I – I – ", she now remembered how he had threatened to duel Luna's father at Bill's and Fleur's wedding because he had worn that pendant. "Sorry. I forgot you'd probably like to know."

"Don't vorry.", he assured her with a sigh. "Better late than never, right?"

"Yes.", Hermione swallowed hard. "But I assume you still remember how you accused Xenophilius Lovegood of supporting Grindelwald because of the jewellery he had worn at – "

"I most certainly do."

"That sign – Grindelwald only abused it for his own cause, like for example, the Nazis took a variation of the Swastika as their own. Are you familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers by Beedle the Bard?", he needed a moment to think; possibly, because he tried to translate it into Bulgarian so he knew what she meant.

"Yes, I think so. But if it is what I think it is, it has been a while."

"No worries. I got it here. I'll read it to you, then I tell you what I meant about the motives of this murderer."

"Don't you think it is a little too – loud – "

Surprised, they both looked around and up as well. It didn't appear as if anything had happened that would have caused the general chatting noise and the music to become quiet, almost silent.

"Did you just – "

"No.", Hermione giggled with fascination. "Okay, perhaps I did, but not consciously. It seems, the room heard me."

"The room?", Viktor blinked again, much more confused than before.

"This room is the Room of Requirement. It accustoms to people's needs."

"Does it?"

"Well, mostly. It doesn't do everything, but quite a lot."

"So say, I had a runny nose,"

"It would quite likely give you a tissue if you hadn't one, yes."

"Чудесен. Very vell. The story? Does this room also provide books?"

"It does sometimes. But I have it with me anyway."

Her hand was already deep in her beaded bag, getting hold of the old script. Clearing her throat she opened it at the right page, instantly. Apparently she had read it so often already that the book's binding was a little more stretched at the are – or she had only added up to the many times Dumbledore had read it.

Eager to not miss a detail, Igor hung on her lips and she was glad the room had turned down the volume of noises around. Otherwise they might have needed to leave and she knew it would have taken them forever to get to another part of the castle that was heated at the moment. Of course they could have gone to the Gryffindor common room, but she hadn't wanted to alert Ron. So she read, somewhat surprised that she didn't know the story by heart yet. Every few lines her thoughts tried to drift off to Severus; how he had recited the story two years ago in that lonely tower, with similar intentions. How he had explained all the properties of the Hallows to her, their bloody history and how his assumptions as well as gruesome hopes regarding Voldemort's motives had turned out to be correct. How well he had intervened in the events to make everything turn out the way it had.

Of course she had no full proof that Avenger was him, and Luna had tried to convince her often enough that he wasn't who committed these murders. Though who else would, especially signing the crime scenes with that symbol, clearly as a message for both Harry and her? At some point she noticed that she must know at least major parts of the sentences, as she caught herself reading perfectly while thinking of all that. What she didn't know however, that with this she had reached her current limit of ability to focus on multiple occurrences. One reason was clearly the reduced sound, but she wouldn't be the only one to miss the verbal fight behind. It wasn't loud enough to drown the music.

Only when she had already convinced Viktor of how clear it was that these murders happened in honour of the Peverell brothers and not Gellert Grindelwald, she would get to notice that something had not gone as desired. Someone's evening had become worse. Much worse, indeed. Puffing like a mad ox, Ron suddenly had come out of nowhere, startling them both. With the force of a dropped sack of potatoes he fell onto the empty chair at Hermione's right, leant back with his arms crossed.

"I didn't do anything – ", Viktor said quickly.

"Tz. Who said the world's always spinning around you?"

"Who then?", regardlessly, Hermione scrunched up her nose with indignation.

"Is it just me or is it – really quiet here?", Ron frowned, eyes flicking between the two,

"I needed some quiet, so I could read him the Tale of the Three Brothers.", and down onto the book between her arms on the table.

"Honestly?"

"Viktor asked why someone just happens to run around murdering Death Eaters and painting _Grindelwald's sign_ on their doors."

"Wouldn't be the first,", her boyfriend chuckled grim.

"And no, I didn't break any law.", pouted Hermione.

"Didn't say so,"

"But you thought it."

"You're not using Legilimency on me.", she noticed it was a mere statement.

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah. 'Cause if you did, you'd know I didn't think that. I'm not Harry."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Why?", Ron grunted.

"Why? Last time I've seen him, he was with you, just saying.", if he could be grumpy, so could she.

"Do I look like his Houseelf?"

"Ron,"

"You know he's his own man, free to run after whoever he wants."

"And whom did he run after?"

"Oh right, you might not have heard it. For some reason, Malfoy thought it funny to start a fight with Slughorn?"

"What?", her heart plummeted with her gasp.

"Dunno what he was ranting on about. Didn't hear it. But Slughorn looked really flustered. Then he became angry. And when he tried to calm Malfoy, the guy just went all disgusted and stormed off, right through a door the room created for him – and Harry ran after him."

"And?"

"And what?"

"That's it?", she frowned.

"Well, if I'd been fast enough, I wouldn't sit here, would I?"

"You think Harry would need your help dealing with him?"

"No – I – dunno.", Ron sighed. "It's just – "

"Oh come on, Ron. I noticed too that Harry's attitude towards him made an about-turn after the war. Or are you jealous that he spends time with him? Cares for him? It's not like you are the one with mental health issues, is it?"

"Jealous?", growled Ron, seriously upset. "Why would I be – "

"I don't know.", she shook her head. "Just let Harry do his thing."

" _Let Harry do his thing_?"

"I'm just saying, if he feels responsible for Draco's welfare, let him. He needs some other thing on his mind than eviscerated – "

"Okay, okay. I'd just appreciate it, if you let him do his thing too, regarding _that_."

"Anyway, I think you'd like to hear the good news from Viktor. But don't go blabbering."

"Blabbering."

"He doesn't want any press to know yet."

~~#~~

It seemed like four hours later, but he hoped they hadn't missed the chime by those two hours. The door already materialised before them and Harry was about to push down the handle when he noticed that Draco had halted further behind. Dazed, he stared at some snowflakes that danced outside a window, illuminated by the pastel lampions in the corridor.

"Draco?"

"I – I'm not going back in there.", he breathed, not taking his eyes off the window.

"Then why did you dress up in the first place?"

"I arrived, they saw me; should do.", the fair huffed.

"I'm sure we can manage to avoid running into him again, even though it's his party,"

"You go. I'm just gonna – "

"Gonna what? Stay out here and freeze?"

"You know I got a shrunk winter cloak in my pocket,"

"Still."

"I think, what Draco meant to say is that he would like to go down to the Black Lake and look at the snow glisten in the near full moon."

Like so often, she had come out of nowhere, but as though they had expected her to, neither startled. What Harry wondered however was how she didn't freeze in her short, tufty, sparkling dress.

"I'm wearing an invisible cloak, Harry. Not an invisibility cloak, an invisible cloak. It is very warming.", she smiled her usual smile.

"Sounds about right.", Harry only frowned. "But it's snowing."

"By the time we reach the lake, it will have stopped and the moon will be out."

"If you say so,"

"Would you like to go down, Draco?"

"Yeah – that – that sounds like a good idea, yes."

"I know you already wished each other a Happy New Year. So, Happy New Year, Harry."

"How do you – "

"No worries. I didn't spy on you. I just saw it from Draco's definite look that you have. Also otherwise he would have grunted it at you and left when you asked him to go back into the Room of Requirement."

"Charming honesty, Luna.", Harry only chuckled, "Happy New Year.", and turned to enter.

"Oh and don't worry about her."

"Whom?", he halted.

"And don't be surprised if she comes to you with a peculiar offer."

"What're you – "

But when he turned his head back, he only saw the swinging tapestry to the secret stairs. With a deflated chuckle he returned into the overheated room, just to instantly be stopped by a piercing pair of eyes before him. Just as if she had waited by the wall for the door to appear with him in it. There was hardly enough space for it to shut and vanish. What he had come to, he only realised when hearing people count down from – eight. As hazel coloured as her stunning eyes, she held some choc under his nose.

"What?"

"Eat that.", she demanded at five. "No worries. It's got only mint inside."

"Why would I – ", but she had already pressed it into his open mouth, forcing him to chew on it.

"Happy New Year.", she said, just loud enough over the ear thrashing cheers and the loud banging of the huge clock in the middle of the room, shooting the most wondrous fireworks.

The only fireworks he cared for were those though that erupted inside him when she stole half of the chocolate and fresh mint back out with her tongue, binding him very voluntarily into that deep kiss with her hand in his chaotic but curiously soft mane and the noise seemed to drift away from them, encapsulated in their own privat cocoon, disregarded by everyone around.

"Happy New Year.", he could barely breathe when she parted their lips only. "And thanks for the choc."

"Oh that was quite selfish.", Ginevra snickered into his ear, with an impish undertone that made him curious.

"Selfish?"

"Let's go somewhere else. It's far too crammed in here and there's still a Christmas present I haven't given you."

"Will I like it?"

"I'll know when I see the look on your face.", her breath in his ear made him shiver, but in an exciting way. "Come on."

Her naughty but childish smile when she dragged him back out through the door that had formed itself anew, made his insides coil with anticipation. Ginevra waited for the door to be gone and another to appear in its place. Surprised that this actually worked, he let himself be pulled into the round, golden chamber, the door almost instantly gone behind them.

"How – "

"The room has learned some things, after people started to use it frequently."

"Let me guess, Luna told you."

"And if she has?", dazzled, he only gazed at her while she unbuttoned his robe.

"What did you mean about selfishness again?"

"Oh you know,", Ginevra meant casually, "I'm not really interested in knowing, ", again she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, "What Draco tastes like."

"What?", Harry gasped, not only from the touch of her fingers against his chest.

"Yet."

~~#~~


	69. Chapter 68 - Judgement Day

– Chapter 68 –

 **Judgement Day**

A loud squeal echoed through The Burrow, making people jump at the breakfast table. Ashen faced in front of the bun she had forced her hair into, Hermione finally came hurrying downstairs, in a slim red dress and black jacket and tights but with no shoes on. The noise of the creaking stair made everyone wince anyway.

"I have no idea – _why_ – Errol came to _my_ window, but – "

The sight made her stop, with the newspaper in hand. Ron wore his Auror uniform and Harry a dark Byzantium robe she had never seen before and between them, sat Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards.

"Umbridge – ", she pointed at the headline.

"Oh my goodness – ", Kingsley aspirated, raised and joined her to snatch the paper. "Has it indeed leaked? I haven't read the _Prophet_ yet, too much work – goodness, yes."

"So – ", Hermione moaned.

"Loads of work ahead, too.", Ron was as white as her, yet due to the place he and Harry had spent their early morning at.

"Christ – how did they get the details – ", muttered Kingsley. "Fortunately they don't have the date."

"Date?", Hermione gasped.

"There was a date under the sign on the floor.", Harry got up with the photo and gave it to her. "Not a single drop of blood in her cell. Well, if you don't count those gravity has – "

"No blood – ", she whispered and, glad it wasn't a scarlet feast, stared at the sign in pink and the date below along with the letters _MoM_. "Holy Humdinger!", Luna giggled upon that, standing unnoticed in a corner. "That's – "

"I know,", said Harry. "His birthday."

"How did they get into the cells anyway?", Arthur asked. "Getting past the Dementors without Patronuses is already amazing, but – "

"We are clueless on that.", sighed Kingsley. "But it gives me enough reason to at last release them from their duty. Not only extremely dangerous, but unreliable now even."

"But how are you going to feed the prisoners then?"

Immediate silence fell over the entire house, only broken by a distant rumble, supposedly caused by the Ghoul. Hermione's widened eyes travelled from face to face that stared at her with utter disbelief and confusion.

"Hermione,", Ron coughed.

"I mean, of course, most of them – uhm – the – the ones remaining – ", for comprehensible reasons, Harry's bored glare unsettled her the most, "Oh, come on! You can't let them starve, can you? Yes, they are criminals, but – "

"Hermione,", now Harry said, in a way so close to how his father would have, it brought colour back to her cheeks, if only little.

"What.", she snapped.

"Are you honestly meaning to imply you believed Dementors to be floating around with ` _kiss the cook_ ´-aprons?"

Ginevra snorted into the remains of her scarce meal with a big grin, now almost all eyes on her, while the message slowly sunk in. Hermione tried hard to resist the look Harry still gave her, but the thought of rolling up the paper and slamming it onto his head from all directions was truly tempting.

"Elves.", she gargled.

"Yes, Hermione, Elves.", Harry confirmed, not desisting from his expression or her eyes even. "Don't look at me like it was I who forced them to work inside a Dementor-guarded high-security prison."

"What?", that gasp escaped her so quick she coughed upon it.

"Hell, no!", he gnarled so fierce she swallowed the last cough with a lasting ache in her throat. "There's a kitchen in the Ministry that is connected to Azkaban, pretty much like the Hogwarts kitchen is connected to – "

"Yes, yes, yes.", Hermione whimpered, tears in her eyes from the coughing – _and_ his glare. "Why does it always have to be Elves."

"Because they have proven to be efficient?", Robards blinked at her, not having lost his confusion.

"No, because they've proven to be easily enslavable.", Ginevra noted to confirm her opinion. "According to you, at least. But unless you graduated and managed to sleep yourself up in the Ministry, I hardly believe you'll be able to change that ancient fact."

"I beg your pardon?", bright red stood on Hermione's face now and Ron's swapped between the two.

"I'm just saying. It's not the time and day to discuss SPEW. Talking about justice, yes, though another. So shut the fu– "

"I agree," Kingsley warned over her rant, "Although not with your tone. But if it hadn't been for the massive number of Disapparitions, no one would have ever believed what Harry – "

"Er – "

"You were sleeping like someone had hit you with a stone,", meant Ron. "I'd just returned from the lav when he stood in front of me, brandishing with his hand before my face.", Hermione was even back to being as confused as their boss, who however had lost his confusion so quick it seemed he had transferred it onto her.

"See here.", Harry went even closer and showed her the back of his hand, or rather, quite brazenly held it up to her nose.

"And?"

"They're gone."

"What's gone?"

"The scars, Hermione.", he murmured impatient. "From Umbridge's detention."

"Oh my – "

"So? Are you going to the launch party?", Harry then said casually with his hand dropping, at last studying Hermione's clothing.

"Er – yes. I thought it'd be a good chance to kick her bums for that biography of yours. And well, now his. Or did you really think, I'd let you go there alone?"

"Okay. It anyway seems, _someone_ wants us to be there. A falcon delivered me a single line letter in Gaelic runes the moment we returned from Azkaban."

"Shall I trans-"

"No need. It said ` _snatch the bug_ ´. And that's what I'll do."

"Wait – you've been serious?"

"Yes, I've been serious, Ron.", confirmed Harry. "Now even more. And if I think about it, I'll buy that crap before another _random_ villager burns all copies. This way I can say I know what I'm accusing her of."

"It says here that they only took Death Eaters and that this time – ", Hermione's focus was back on the newspaper in Kingsley's hands.

"The other inmates are in shock.", Robards explained. "Those we could interrogate already, said they had come at sunset and went for Umbridge supposedly around midnight."

"Exactly at midnight.", Harry corrected him. "Woke up to it.", he again shook his right hand that had born scars of his own handwriting for three years, but now was as if it had never been maimed. "I hope that's the last time I felt any scar burning."

"Likely.", Robards blinked heavily, failing at pretending to understand. "However, they didn't use any Silencing Charms. At least we have proof now, that Potter has been right. They are three, wearing masks and long hooded cloaks, so no one knows what they look like or recognises their voices. But that is all we can say for sure at the moment."

"God – how many did – ", Hermione moaned.

"They went for the whole lot. There is not a single Death Eater left in Azkaban. The blood came trickling towards us the moment we entered the building. They hadn't even cleaned up. More than that, we were facing another message, in blood, telling us ` _Not this time, you lazy fools_ ´."

"We have recorded, as I mentioned, massive Disapparitions around the time the _Prophet_ normally arrives at households.", said Kingsley. "Most of them from places we did not even know that some sort of house existed there. Each of them Apparated so many times we could only locate their original position but not where they went. It is exactly like Harry predicted it. Once it was on the _Prophet_ , they were gone. I initially believed someone might have passed the information to one of them because it happened while we interrogated the first inmates, but now that you show me this, it is clear it was the paper. I want the head of that person who slipped – "

"No.", Harry said curtly, all attention on him in a blink. "Whoever's brought it up, I don't think we'll catch them. It might have been themselves even. That's it now."

"So you think that is – "

"Like I said. The actual grand finale. It's a new year after the war. There wasn't a single murder since before Christmas. They didn't want to disturb peace. It all came down to exactly that moment. The four murders at the beginning of term, the rest of those in the Ministry at Hallowe'en, and now Azkaban. The murders in between were only to spare some work after the big bang. Umbridge's been a pain in the arse for everyone. They took her last. And brutal, I can tell you; therefore I'm really curious where her blood went. They'd never done much to the faces but some slashes until they devoted to Umbridge. Cut out her eyes and tongue, nearly chopped off her head with some clearly small and blunt thin object and pinned her to the ceiling with a Permanent Sticking Charm. No one will ever get her underpants off there."

"Oh my god!", Hermione panted into her hand, visibly having difficulties with trying not to picture Harry's description.

"So that's clear then?", asked Ginevra. "It's permanent?"

"So far, we haven't been successful.", Robards sighed. "Yes, we are quite certain it is permanent."

"Yeah. Blimey, it's like someone told them what Snape threatened her with, remember?", Ron chuckled. "Wait – didn't you say once – ", he pondered, staring at Hermione, who lowered her hand, paler than before the blush, though it had seemed impossible.

"Didn't I say _what_.", she mumbled, her eyes wide open again.

"In the Hospital Wing – you know, after Sirius' death – didn't you tell Snape he could – "

"That was a joke."

"What did you say to Severus Snape, Miss Granger?", Robards' eyes pierced hers, alarmingly eager.

"I – ", Hermione gargled, "I said that he could pin her – to the ceiling easily now – since she was technically knocked out – and – and unable to defend herself – it – it was a joke – referring to a conversation I'd overheard. Just one of those quips everyone was sharing that year. There's been almost no one at Hogwarts who hadn't `planned´ killing her in the most ludicrous ways. But everyone knew it was just empty threats to keep up the spirit. I – I never thought – "

"Who else has heard said conversation?"

"Professor McGonagall – a-and – b-but she's got nothing to do with that – "

"I am certain she doesn't.", Robards calmed her.

"She must have spread it among her colleagues.", Hermione tried not to look into anyone's eyes while she made up a story. "Such lines never really stop going around. Everyone who's had at least one ear open while at Hogwarts can agree, I think, that there is always the possibility of horrendous ideas doing the rounds and if it's absolutely secretly. It might have moved on to students who discussed it while going shopping in Diagon Alley – everything's possible. They might have caught it up anywhere and thought it to be great. Just like those other – deeds – I – I – well, you'd better check the Auror Veteran Fund on a big donation – and Fudge's house on massive vandalism – "

"Cornelius Fudge's house?", Robards resumed his blinking.

"It's likely the place her blood went.", that in Hermione's face went into oblivion once more.

"Very well. So you say, it is clearly no coincidence, but a message again."

"Yes.", she swallowed, gazing into space at last. "Definitely a message. I – I'll better finish dressing. I want to get out a message too."

~~#~~

Business was – flourishing. At least for George. The other shops were nearly empty as most people were stuffed into Flourish and Blotts. The rest left his shop for the place, trying their best to hide their purchases from the guards that were posted at the entrance of the bookshop. A large basket by one of the three was nearly overflowing with Weasley products that had been confiscated before their new owners had been granted entry. Grinning through a window on the first floor, George watched it all while his assistant served the customers. In unnoticed moments, stationed at the window exactly above said basket, Luna levitated object after object and let it vanish in her glittery round bag. Only Harry spotted it when they came waking towards the crowd from the Leaky Cauldron, but wasn't tempted at all to bring it to Hermione's attention. She had enough troubles dealing with her new red high heels anyway.

"Morning, Harry.", one of the guards greeted him while the other searched the bag of an austere looking blonde with sharp nose and cheekbones.

"Morning. Spoiled things with Robards, have you?"

"Seems like it. Guarding that Banshee – personally I'd let them all pass. But command's command. What've you done wrong that he sends you here?"

"Nothing. I'm here on my own account, fully authorised."

"Like always."

"Like always.", Harry confirmed with a smirk.

"I've been freezing my tails off here since six. People say the _Prophet_ 's printing stuff about Azkaban having had some revamp. Anything true?", the man chuckled. "Oh no, no, no. Give me that, kid. No knives allowed in there."

"It's my grandfather's!", the boy moaned

"Then tell your grandfather to give you some better lessons about violence. Get off now.", the knife hadn't even touched anything in the basket but flew straight up, where Luna slipped it into one of her pockets, rather than the bag. "So?"

"Everything."

"You're joking!"

"Nope,", Harry said leisurely, "They got the lot."

"Wicked. And that old toad?"

"Ugliest chandelier ever."

"Harry!", Hermione gasped.

"Now don't tell me you're not glad too.", he snorted.

"I am! But – "

"Wonderful. Then stop acting as if you felt sorry for her. Now tell me, Bill, is there something I should know?"

"Why?"

"Well, Liz quitted before Christmas. Any idea?"

"Er – no.", Bill put on a quite good poker face, but the slight panic in his movement as he searched another bag might have been one of the reasons why he had to secure a book release rather than dealing with mass murder.

"Come on, she's had quite a change in style. No one's getting fat so beautifully. That's a well rounded ball she tried to hide there. Know what it'll be?", looking quite nervous, Bill leant closer and whispered in Harry's ear.

"A girl."

"Great!", grinned Harry when the tall man straightened again with a childish smile. "Congrats!"

"Thanks. Er – listen, you mind getting me a copy?", he flicked a thumb over his shoulder. "Firewood's expensive and lacking some quality these days. Wouldn't stick out all too much."

"I'll get it signed and dedicated with accelerant for you."

"Fantastic.", Bill laughed. "You're a real friend."

"You'll get me one too?", asked the guard by the basket.

"Got some U-No-Poo in there?"

"I think – ", he rummaged the confiscated goods, "Yes. Here's a little bag."

"Thanks. If I can't get another copy, I'll mix that in her drink."

"Harry!", Hermione was ignored successfully, and the bag disappeared in Harry's pocket.

"Robards won't be too fond,", snickered the guard.

"You think I'll tell him who did it?", Harry winked. "Right. See you guys tomorrow. If you survive the storm."

"Storm?"

"Oh well, I think I saw someone slipping past you with a portable snowstorm."

"Goodness no – ", Bill aspirated and all three spun their heads, giving Luna enough time to lift five articles in a row.

"Never mind. It seems to be too hot in there anyway. And I think, I have a better idea. Stay ready. I want at least two of you following me, a little behind, ", Harry meant and squeezed himself through with Hermione on his heels, which was not too difficult once someone had recognised him. "Excuse me,", he nevertheless had to hold up his shining silver badge when a woman with a less good memory attempted to defended her position with muttered protest, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Oh I am sorry – o-of course you may pass – ", she blushed and pressed a groaning group against a dangerously jiggling pile of books.

"That's Harry Potter, you dimwit!", a woman by her side hissed.

"What? No – no way – "

"And how he is.", Hermione snapped and went after him before the gap could close.

"Don't be too rude. They'd mistake you for a stalker.", Harry said. "Excuse me, Sir – no, that's not a fake badge, thank you."

"Now to your question,", hissed Hermione when they reached a somewhat cosy corner between books deep in by the desk that had been put up, "Why? _Why?_ That's is exactly _why_ I didn't want you to go alone! You're acting like a – "

"I'm just doing my job, Hermione."

"And of course that consists of being absolutely ignorant and a conceited arsehole."

"What if it does?"

"I hardly think so. Tonks wasn't. Or Mad-Eye."

"Have you ever seen them while they did their real work? I bet, Mad-Eye was."

"Even if, that doesn't give you the right – "

"Since when does an Auror need to attune to former Aurors? You know nothing about that job. We're sitting together in a big room, but once we're out, it's just each of us on their own. There's no colleague or friend for most. There's just suspects. Be glad I still take a look before I throw all civilians into a pot."

"Harry, I just can't accept what you become.", she moaned.

"And what do I become?"

"A restless, calculating beast!"

"Maybe you failed to get hold of that bit of information, but the war isn't over yet.", he snarled in a volume to be heard by her alone. "You've been sitting in school, safely away form everything. People still get murdered! They get raped and robbed, Hermione! But of course you can't understand why I plaster my wall with photos of corpses. Each photo more means at least ten other people living a much more secure life, or living at all! Sure, it's horrible what they do, but _they_ have to square it with their conscience, not I. I personally sleep better, knowing there's less of the real monsters out there that could harm Ginevra or Ron or you or anyone else close to me or so many other people who just don't deserve more hurt. I thought, after more than half a year, you might have understood.", Hermione took a deep breath and replied equally cold.

"Then that's what it is? All for – _a greater good_?"

"If that's how you see it, _yes_. It is for some greater good", Harry crossed his arms. "It's not my fault that Grindelwald had a slightly different imagination of what such a line could mean. There's enough criminals left without a scar on their arm. I'm really, really grateful that someone's there to help me getting rid of the worst of them."

"And I agree with you that these monsters have no right to live among us. Yet killing them isn't much of a punishment, even if it's bestial. I'd suffer more if I was locked in among hordes of Dementors."

"That's exactly what differs us from real Death Eaters. We care too much. Azkaban nearly destroyed Sirius. It destroyed Lucius. Enough proof that they had something they cared for, something else than themselves. And then take Bellatrix. What's Azkaban done to her, other than giving her horrendous teeth? Nothing. She sat in there, proud of what she'd done. Honoured it was terrific enough to be thrown in there and when she was out, she went on like before. The Avengers aren't after guys like Mundungus. That's still Ministry business; ask Neville, he knows enough of that. They are after people like Bellatrix. And it's better if able killers get them out of the way than innocent mothers."

"Attention, everyone! Attention please!", called a woman from a door behind the desk and the crowd went almost silent. "Ladies and Gentlemen! It is time for another grand moment in a grand woman's life! Please welcome with me, the charming Rita Skeeter!"

"Oh yes. Really charming.", grunted Hermione as modest applause filled the shop.

And here it was. The gleeful malice among smiles, framing two even rows of shiny teeth, three golden studs twinkling, like the crystals on her spectacles. Her blonde curls were in far better condition than when she had done the interview for the Quibbler and her fingernails had regained all the beauty of blood-covered claws. Wearing a tight dress of shining green leather that matched her famous handbag and was flounced at the seams, self-confidence in person strutted in, the clacking sound of her high heels echoing over the clapping.

The sight downright burnt Hermione's eyes and she decided to look at Harry again, who stared at one of the books on the desk, determination fixating the man who looked back. For a moment she could have sworn to have seen him rolling his eyes and the feeling was strengthened by a smirk that drifted onto Harry's lips. She took a closer look, just to find the small, grim printed portrait running a pale finger horizontally over his own throat by the photo's lower edge and wiggling his eyebrows once before the dark marbles below shortly flicked into their corner. Harry gave a stiff nod, his chin resting on his left thumb and she could clearly see the faint gesture: he tapped his index finger to his temple three times.

"Goodness sake!", she hissed at him. "Are you plotting to drive her into insanity?"

"And if, would you mind?", Harry grumbled.

"No – but – but – and why did you want them to – ", her head shortly spun to see whether the guards were really behind them.

"What an honour it is to be standing here for the fourth time within little more than half a year!", Skeeter sang after she had silenced the applause. "Especially in such troubling times, when people surely have more important things to do than reading books."

"Yeah. Like burning them.", someone whispered from the stairs above, but Skeeter ignored the snickering it caused.

"What makes me even more proud that my work still gathers so many. I can assure you, you will not be disappointed. After all, you will soon get to know the true self of such a withdrawn man, whose life has ended so tragically."

"He sacrificed himself with far more valuable pride than there is reeking from your awful trap.", Hermione said a little louder than she had meant to, and to her bad, was recognised.

"If that is not our Little Miss Perfect!", Skeeter laughed balefully and sat down on the edge of the desk, pushed a pile of her books aside and opened her handbag, the flashing green quill and notebook soaring up immediately. "Hermione Granger. The girl that never stops going to school. I actually had other plans for today, but I am sure, my fans can live with me doing my job. Of course you wouldn't mind giving us all your opinion about your former teacher, before you find it tragically shattered? Was his treatment to your pleasure? Did you enjoy the suffers of having to bear his constant nagging? How was it to you, learning that he has killed Albus Dumbledore?"

"It would shock you if I told you how much more I know about the man whose legacy you are defiling with your disgusting bottlebrush.", Hermione said grim.

"Oh she's not defiling anything, I'm sure.", Harry meant and Skeeter's eyes popped out, her quill writing quicker than ever before. "You cannot truly disgrace without knowledge."

"Now look at that! Harry Potter himself came to my party!", the woman chuckled, and even more people were trying to get a glimpse on the desk area. "Too tragic, yes. No knowledge indeed. Do you still believe he has loved your mother? Loving her so much as to throw the wildest verbal cruelties at her? Real love, it was?"

"I was certain that you never had any serious relationship.", Harry returned the malevolent smile of hers.

"You seem to be living under a very false impression of love. But why should you know what real love is – your parents died too early to teach you. Therefore it must be wonderful to have such an _understanding_ girl at your side, not?", her look was back on Hermione. "Would you say, you are capable of giving him the comfort a troubled boy like him needs? Or is your mere company enough for his welfare?"

"I am _not_ his girlfriend. I never was.", the anger that rose in her made her understand for a moment what it was that drove Harry.

"Of course not.", Skeeter smiled and winked at her. "That new style of yours might be blinding others, but I can see beyond the mask and still spot the desperate girl that seeks for the closeness of the famous – "

"I am – ", she gasped – Harry had seized her arm hard, but didn't take his eyes off Skeeter.

"You may be able to make _her_ upset, but you don't impress _me_.", he said so gelid it made Hermione shiver. "Would you be so kind and let me have a quick look?", Harry let go of Hermione's arm and pointed on one of the books, which floated towards him seemingly on its own.

"Wandless summoning? You have developed some rather extraordinary skills, dear boy. I guess, you had plenty of time, on the run from Him Who Must Not Be Named?"

"His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle and he called himself Lord Voldemort. A good journalist names facts.", Harry said as bored as if he was studying Flobberworms laying eggs.

"You know nothing about the work of a journalist, boy.", she actually became slightly angry.

"` _Youth's cruel tragedies one after another shaped the man's later bitter self_.´", Harry read from the book. "Fantastic! I found the first bit of truth you've ever published without being threatened to death! ` _Curled up between piles of books about Dark Magic, he enhanced his skills, developed his vile figments and became obsessed with the ideas of his fellow Housemates, as his opponents trapped him against a wall that would not give in and he saw no other chance than fighting their cheeks with harm, soon being not enough. Ruthless, driven by hate, he ignored the last people who seemed to be indeed caring for him and turned against them, encouraged by his new master, his new teacher._ ´ That is some really amazing stuff you wrote there. Only that it has one, single, flaw."

"Which would be, in your opinion?"

"The rest of the book.", he scornfully shut it under the laughter of many people and Skeeter turned flashing red. "How did you even manage to pay the publication fee? Hasn't your vault been – mysteriously emptied in summer? Oh sure – I shouldn't pay much attention to what _The_ _Quibbler_ writes, should I?", and all the colour was gone from her face as fast as it had come. "So it's true then? You're still broke? Well, I know you are. It's been reported to the Patrol by the Goblins. How much did you promise them to earn with the sales of your newest crap in order to let them publish it?"

"That is a truly lovely story you are concocting there.", she was back at business. "But you have no evidence."

"Don't I? Well, I actually,", he rummaged for his Mokeskin Pouch and pulled out a folder which he opened leisurely, supported on the book and his arm. "Here.", he held up a photograph of several Goblins bustling an empty vault that had nothing but a big bright golden smiley face drawn magically onto the back wall; held it high to show it to the people around. "Wasn't that your vault? Or perhaps, that here – ", he replaced it with the photo of what appeared to be a huge bonfire, doing the same. "I see, that's where your money went. Guess, the _Quibbler_ was wrong. Not fake money, _your_ money. But it didn't seem to have returned to your vault at all. Interesting.", he closed the folder with a snap that made Hermione startle at the gust that hit her and waved Bill and the other guard to them.

"What is this going to be? Hey!", she barked when her notebook and Quick-Quotes Quill zoomed into his now free left hand.

"I just confiscated that.", it suddenly was so silent in the bookshop that a pin could have been heard falling. "What I showed you, is just minor records. But the folder holds quite a lot, which will of course be laid open during your hearing."

"Hearing?", she panicked when the men stepped closer, their wands ready.

"Rita Skeeter, you are hereby arrested for being an unregistered Animagus who can take on the shape of a beetle,", she winced at the spells that were cast on her for preventing her from transforming as well as Disapparating.

"You have no right – get your filthy hands off me!", they had seized her arms and forced her hands behind her back, were they were bound by ropes conjured by one, while the other handed her handbag over to Harry.

"Thanks. You are arrested for being an unregistered Animagus, massive fraud, multiple libel, violation of graves, crimes against humanity, and for being a totally inept investigator. Severus Snape's birthday was never on the twenty-seventh of March as it says in your book, but on the ninth of January. And people wouldn't get your generous hint anyway."

"You have nothing, boy, _nothing!_ ", she spat at him but hit the floor.

"Furthermore, obstructing a Ministry Official in performance of duty, several cases of bribery, use of Memory Charms in order to conceal your scheming and making profit under false pretences. You will now be brought to the Ministry for awaiting your trial. I advise you to speak no more word until questioned by the Wizengamot or otherwise asked to answer a Ministry Official in valid charge. There is a fireplace in the back-room. Take her away, please. This release party is over!", he turned to the crowd. "Unless any of you wish to buy a book in regular assortment, I ask you to leave this shop as refined as possible! Any copies of Rita Skeeter's works in this bookshop are confiscated evidence as well and should anyone be found stealing them, you will be tracked and fined for it! Thank you!"

"Harry!", Hermione grabbed his arm now, while Skeeter was escorted past the perplexed woman who had announced her. "You – what did you do!"

"What should have been done long ago. Everyone knows what she did for a living. If I can't arraign her for that all, then she gets at least five years for not being registered. She's got no money left to pay her way out.", she watched him conjure some flat shields so no one would get to grab any book unnoticed.

"Famous Harry Potter.", a voice from above drew their attention when the shop was much emptier already. "Still can't go into a bookshop without causing some riot, the attention whore.", Draco grinned, next to a dreamily smiling Luna. "Nice work."

"Thanks. When did you get in?"

"Flew through a window up here. But it seems, Luna was even faster. Any idea why someone's guarding an empty basket by the front door?"

~~#~~


	70. Chapter 69 - Revelation

– Chapter 69 –

 **Revelation**

Out of nostalgia, the girls in the house had decided to take the Hogwarts Express instead of just apparating to Hogsmeade. They would Apparate to London however. Nevertheless everyone in The Burrow was awake much earlier that Sunday than they would have needed to. While the others took their time packing, Hermione had decided to stay at the kitchen table after breakfast, working on her Thesis. The last thing she had muttered to Ron was how of course he only left to go back to bed, but he had simply ignored her and disappeared in their room with Harry, as Ginevra was busy in the `Battlefield´ – they had somehow developed the habit of calling Harry's and her room like that.

In all fairness Harry had made himself comfortable on Ron's bed however in tailor-fashion, reading. Possibly though so as to give Hermione one less thing to complain about. Therefore Ron was lying on Hermione's bed, left of the door, Harry's pocket watch dangling from his fingers and glistening in the pale morning light. Mostly the couple would share one of the beds, but still each claimed their own, just in case. With a sizzling sound, he whirled the chain around and caught the watch in his fist.

"Catch.", he said, completely out of the blue.

"What?"

Harry had barely looked up from his book when he saw the shimmer soar towards him in the corner of his eye. Quicker than a fly could breathe, his arm zoomed out and caught the metal device.

"Ha!", cheered Ron.

"Thanks for the training.", Harry meant boredly, stuck his hand under his loose buttoned shirt and skilfully dropped the watch in his Mokeskin Pouch.

"So.", during that, Ron slid from the bed, adjusted his baggy pants and went over to sit down opposite to Harry, in the same manner, trying to decipher the text. "Still not intending to stop learning Russian?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Can you read that?"

"I'm merely fascinated by the symbols.", Harry mumbled.

"Really?"

"Of course I can read that."

"Yes? Well, let's hear. Just read from wherever you are."

"If you want,", Harry cleared his throat.

"Go for it."

"Sure. Политические аресты нескольких десятилетий отличались здесь именно тем, что люди никоим образом не были арестованы и поэтому не были готовы к какому-либо сопротивлению. Было общее чувство обреченности, представление – "

"Whow – "

"C нашей паспортной системой, этого достаточно, однако, правда, что было невозможно сбежать из ГПУ-НКВД. И даже в разгар эпидемий ареста, когда люди, выходя на работу, каждый день прощались со своей семьей, потому что они не могли быть уверены, что вернутся вечером – "

"Goodness sake – "

"даже тогда они почти не убежали – "

"And what – "

"и в редкие случаи они закончили с ними. Что требовалось Приручить овцу волка в зубах. Now I'm done with the paragraph."

"Blimey! You're really fluent!"

"Why, thank you."

"And? What's it?"

"The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. The collective works is describing the life in a Communist Soviet labour camp."

"Whow! And you can actually read that kind of stuff already?", and he did read on while listening. "When did you say again you started learning Russian?"

"Shortly after you ran away from our tent?"

"Not even one and a half years ago then – "

"Apparently,"

"Why Russian?", Harry just shrugged.

"Why not? _It had happened to have appeared being useful_ already."

"Uh – ", Ron tarried, "I mean what? When?"

"Early November the Witch Watchers picked up a little girl from a crime scene. Not our case. But I overheard that they couldn't get her to speak and her thoughts were so confusing to them that they passed on. Inama eneded up with her eventually, but she also couldn't get her to speak and asked me for help. Nobody considered she might not understand English. I just tried naming a couple languages and suddenly she said русский."

"Russian, yeah. So you interrogated her? You never told me – "

"Because it was unimportant. She just found her mother dead on the ground and because she tried to defend herself with magic, they'd arrested her. The death wasn't her fault though. Turned out it was someone from their refugee hostel. I think Inama made sure she was adopted by a Russian speaking couple."

"Still, why Russian?", very slow, Harry looked up. "Sorry – it's just kinda curious, isn't it? He secretly fed you with books. Why teaching you Russian? Didn't he speak French too?"

"And Scots Gaelic, Latin, German, Mandarin Chinese,"

"Chinese.", growled Ron, his face even more contorted. "Okay?"

"And before you ask, your sister told me."

"Oh. But _still_ – "

"Well, _Hermione_ , how should I know? I never asked his portrait. Maybe he thought that out of all the languages he knew, that'd be the most useful for the career everyone knew I'd go after, sooner or later? Or maybe he thought, his best friend would survive the war while he was certain he himself wouldn't and knew that in this case, that man would need someone who would bear his idiosyncrasies for the sake of it?"

"Huh? Wait – Karkaroff?"

"What other crazy friend of his with Russian descent do we know?"

"Yeah. But blimey – now you learned that language for noth- sorry – ", Ron froze at Harry's obliterating look. "And anyway – er – it's not like – I mean, you have somebody's idiosyncrasies you decided to bear for the – "

"Oh finally!", Harry sighed and read on.

"Huh?"

"I thought you'd never get to the point."

"Point?"

"Where you would start asking me about Draco."

"Well, yeah! What's that thing you've got going there?"

"You think we have a thing going?", Harry's tone bore no significant characteristic of emotion.

"Do you?"

"I mean, I know you think that."

"And am I right?"

"Depends,"

"On what?"

"How much of a thing you think it is.", Harry briefly gave him a smart-alecky frown before his eyes were back on the book and he flipped a page.

"How long has this been going?"

"Not even a handful of days,"

"Really? Not longer?"

"No."

"So not long enough for – uh – "

"For what."

"Dunno – had sex?"

"That really depends on how you measure speed in relationship and define sex, doesn't it?"

"Probably.", Ron chuckled, to Harry's surprise quite relaxed and he even seemed less judging than during the past months, now that it was out.

"But of course, seeing as one of the scientific terms for a blowjob is `oral sex´, yes."

"Okay?"

It still surprised Harry, but perhaps Ron did indeed feel more comfortable talking about such matters when all cards were laid open – seeing as he hadn't minded sharing stories about his own sex life with Harry in times. That had lead to having him know things about Hermione he hadn't really wanted to know, but all in all he didn't bother much knowing them either. In fact he himself was quite indifferent as well.

"And? Is he good?"

"What d'you mean?", Harry looked up again.

"Has he got some notable talents?"

"Oh – I – I _think_ , you misunderstood that a little."

"What now – did you or did you not?"

"We did."

"But – oh!", it seemed, Ron's eyes were opened wide enough now that the scales fell from them.

"Yes.", Harry smirked to his book.

"Does Ginny know?"

"She does. And for whatever reason, not mind at all."

"Really."

"Yes.", sighed Harry languidly, placed the bookmark and stored the novel in his pouch at last, to be able to look at him without being distracted by wanting to know what came next in the book, for the time being. "The only thing she made clear is that she doesn't want a threesome yet."

"Yet?", Ron smirked disbelievingly.

"Yes, this is your sister we're talking about. I really don't know what happened to you, but two years ago you'd have strangled me if I told you that the thought somehow turns her on."

"Quite possibly, yeah."

"And I don't know why or how, but she must have expected it to happen quite a while ago. Otherwise – ", he needed a thinking pause; whether he should have actually broached.

"Otherwise what?"

"I don't think she would have bought me that very peculiar Christmas present – and waited till New Year's Eve to – "

"What're you talking about? What did she buy you? A dildo?"

"A strap-on, actually."

"A what?", Ron frowned, but Harry could tell it wasn't astonishment – he really didn't know what that meant.

"Very well. I think it'd be better to show you than trying to explain.", he rummaged in his pouch, barely able to pull out the construct then. "Phew. There."

"What the – "

The way Ron took the assembly of belts in his hands, trying to figure it out; and his expression; just made Harry grin.

"Wait – uh – hold on – I – I think," he childishly put it on his head with the dildo atop, "Yeah. I think I got it.", and he actually found a way to secure it with one of the straps.

"Brilliant!", Harry shook his head, laughing.

"Is it?", he too had to laugh.

"Yeah! The best Unicorn I've seen in a while!"

"So – uh – ", Ron could barely calm down. "She – she wears that?"

"Yes. But not on the head, I hope you know."

"Yeah. But – I mean – did you – try it out too?"

"Well, that was actually the whole point of it."

"Doesn't it – hurt?", with the narrowing of his brows, Ron's grin was gone instantly – and Harry's turned into a pondering but assuring smile.

"It did, a bit. But she did her best to make it as comfortable for me as she could."

"Did you like – "

"What are you two laughing about in here?"

She had opened to door so fast she had frozen the whole situation – herself included, and it was clear that for the entire time she stared at Ron, she wasn't entirely sure what she saw there.

" _What_ in the name of Agatha Chubb.", her shock was very real.

"Oh shit.", moaned Ron, bright red drowning his freckles. "I forgot you have unrestricted access to this room."

"I'm not really sure whether I'd like it to remain that way, to be honest. What _is_ that!"

"That, Hermione,", Harry explained, trying hard to keep a straight face, "Is a very rare Magical Creature. It is called Ronicorn."

Neither could help bursting into laughter. Hermione though, the door handle still in hand, only shook her head aghast.

"How come you just happen to have a strap-on!"

"Easy! It's not mine!", Ron grinned. "And how come you know what that is!"

"Well, I'm not exactly living under a rock, you see. And whose is it then, if it isn't yours?"

"Theoretically speaking,", Harry meant, his head still turned to her as well when her eyes fell on him, but another curious face appeared behind her in the door.

"What the actual fuck are you doing with my strap-on, Ron!"

"What?", Hermione yelped, cracking her neck as her head spun. " _Your_ – ?"

"Heck, get inside, Hermione. Mum doesn't need to know everything, really."

"Oh goodness, of course!", hastily she scuttled into the room waiting for her to close the door behind and explain herself.

"I mean, yeah – legit positioning. But _why_!"

"Sorry – ", Ron hastily bound it off and threw it into Harry's lap, whereupon Harry supported his head on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee while he studied the girls' expressions thoroughly, his other hand –

"Well, your dear brother wanted to know. So I showed it to him."

"Okay,", Ginevra sang. "Well, now you know!"

" _Your_ strap-on?", Hermione aspirated.

"Problem?", the bored groan and stare she gave her, made her falter for a second.

"Uh – no – I mean – what? Why do you have a strap-on?"

"Let me think.", mock ponderingly, she crossed her arms. "Because – I bought it?"

"What for!"

"For my brother to bind it onto his head, because all he ever wanted; the one thing he strived for in life; was to become the living breathing eroticization of a unicorn!"

"Oh shut up.", all three of them knew she had meant that for Harry, rather, who snorted into his hand. "Harry could you – uh – could you please – stop – "

"Please what?", he grinned.

"Fumbling that – that _thing_!", she shrieked.

"Why.", Ginevra dropped her arms and slowly walked up to Hermione, her naughty gaze right on her flushed cheeks. "Does it unsettle you? Because – _deep_. _Down_. You know; understood; that I – secretly, bought it not only for me, but – for you?", she was now so close that Hermione had to back up against the desk, which also didn't help.

"What?", it was only a whimper that left her.

"Oh come on.", Ginevra smirked lustily, then bared her teeth in a broad grin. "You should see your face, damnit."

"That is _not_ funny!", Hermione puffed.

"What's you problem, Hermione!", her friend laughed. "You two keep boasting to us about all those things you do in bed and now that you finally know what Harry and I do, you're all flustered and shocked?", Hermione's eyes now flicked between the two, trying to avoid looking at Ron, who was almost as perplexed.

"I – I'll better – go – ", she mumbled.

"Yeah.", smirked Ginevra. "Before Mum comes in, asking questions. Oh and you'd also better change your clothes.", she pointed at the clock on the desk. "We'll be leaving in half an hour. Oh but wait – this is _your_ room. So, Harry, come on,"

Still grinning, he slipped off the bed, taking the strap-on with him and Hermione gasped again, as she apparently had just now noticed that he only wore underpants along with the white shirt.

~~#~~

Various things could be interrupting an everyday course. So it had been the message of Dolores Umbridge's most peculiar death amidst a certain carnage. The different circumstances had made it clear to everyone that something was going to happen. Naturally, Kingsley Shacklebolt had summoned all capable duellers to the Ministry for the announced day. Guards were posted at every entrance and exit and the security measures in the departments had been raised. All Aurors were alarmed and extra watchers had been placed in front of the Minister's office on the date everyone had been quivering at all throughout the week when just thinking about it while attending their usual business, or as it had been for some, cleaning up Azkaban.

One minute to twelve o'clock. The entire Ministry stood still and people were crowding behind the shields the Aurors in full combat uniform had cast in the Atrium. Patrolling up and down in front of the armed audience, they were not less nervous than everybody else.

Instantly, silence fell over the hall when the telephone box floated down, the four guards that had watched the entrance, squeezed into it. Frightened eyes followed it down to the ground. It landed softly and the doors sprung open. Gasps of shock rushed through the masses when one after the other toppled slackly out onto the floor. But when they were levitated aside by some invisible force, every person conscious was quiet again. Wands were raised, ready to strike. The red phone box flew back up as though nothing had happened.

"Put on the glasses – ", one of the Aurors whispered to another.

Hastily he loosened them from his belt, but the moment he lifted them, a white flash shot through the air and knocked it off his hand, shattering as it crashed against a wall where it had landed with such force that the tile it had hit, bore a crack now. Immediately his colleagues answered to the attack, but all of their spells were blocked by a shield that hadn't been seen otherwise. Its caster remained hidden.

"Stop it, everyone!", a young man yelled; the only among them to having refrained from the heavy leather uniform in exchange for a much more comfortable robe of his own; and stepped forward when they had done so.

"What the hell are you doing?", his friend hissed. "Get back Harry!"

"They're not fighting, Ron!", Harry hissed in return. "They're not here for fighting!"

"How can you know?"

"I just – know it, alright?"

"'E ees a clever man, Ronald Weasley.", the muffled, rather deep and slightly hollow voice of a woman with French accent echoed out of nowhere. "You should listen to 'eem."

"Who's there?", Ron called out, staring at the motionless bodies like almost everyone else. "And how come you know my name?"

"Zat ees because you are famous.", like her voice, footsteps resounded in the wide underground hall. "Not as famous as 'eem of course, but famous enough."

"Show yourself!", Harry shouted.

"Eef zat ees your wish, son,"

From thin air three figures covered entirely in long blood red velvet cloaks appeared, side by side. Each of them wore a mask that hid their whole face, even their mouths. That probably explained why the voice of the woman had sounded a bit muffled. The one to be seen right from Harry's viewing point, seemed slightly overweight; or simply crooked; while the other two were slim and the person to the left a head taller than the one in the middle. This one's red and silver mask was definitely from Venice, Harry thought. The middle looked more like a doll with red ornaments on the forehead, but had marks under the eyes as if the carrier cried tears of blood and the mask of the seemingly chubbier person was unmistakably Asian. Harry couldn't fully see it from the distance, but it looked like that white mask with black and red decoration had the wearer's eyes covered and painted as well. Either lips were red too.

The puppet-masked figure took one step onward, if though appearing to have some problems doing so. It was the woman that had spoken. By their appearance, Harry knew that the last thing they would do, was hurting any of the people in the hall. But it also shocked him that they were supposedly indeed the same –

"Now, you are perfectly right, dear boy. Eet ees not our intention to 'arm anyone 'ere. So you need not worry about zose guards 'ere. Zey will wake up een about two 'ours, as fine as zey were before zey were stunned and forced to drink a Sleeping Potion."

"Who are you and what do you want?", Neville asked from Harry's other side.

"I thought, we made our point clear. Eet ees merely our wish to be 'eard by ze Minister."

"I am here.", Kingsley had joined the gathering unnoticed and stepped out from the masses, to Neville's right. "First of all, I'd like to point out, that you are clearly outnumbered."

"Oh I would not be so sure eef I was you, Minister. Each single one of us 'as fought such numbers on zeir own already and survived eet, as you see."

"And who would you be?"

"Zat ees,", she waved her glove-covered free left hand to the chubby one, "Feng; you should not underestimate 'er eyesight and speed; and ze lady to my right ees dear Abelarda, 'o will cut off your fingers and 'ave zem for dinner eef you should only sting a 'air of mine. You may call me Jeanne.", she made a short bow. "To you, we are known as – what was eet? Avengers? But of course zat ees not what we call ourselves."

"And what do you call yourselves?", Kingsley's brows knitted.

"Ze Peverell Sisters.", Harry and Ron weren't the only ones who exchanged alarmed looks. "We are ze mistresses over Death, quite likely. Each of us 'as escaped Death often enough."

"So you consider yourselves invincible?", asked Robards, standing further away between more Aurors.

"Oh, no, no, no. Not at all, Mr Robards.", she sang and he frowned, obviously surprised after all that she knew his name too. "Merely cunning enough to _escape_ every single time. Or lucky; take eet as you might."

"How did you know, Dolores Umbridge used to be a Death Eater? None of us knew. The same goes for quite a number of your other victims.", Kingsley continued.

"Well, we are – _efficient_. I must daresay eet would 'ave been much easier to work while Lord Voldemort was still alive,", many people shuddered at the name, perhaps out of mere habit, "But we still 'ave our ways to track those fools down and let zem pay for zeir crimes."

"Do you not think, it would be better if you left the execution to the Ministry?"

"Ah of course zat would be een your favour, but I must disappoint you, we are not willing to cooperate. You see, for all our lives we 'ave been working alone and as soon as somebody wanted to assist us, everyzing went – ah – down ze tubes. Please understand zat we cannot work togezer wiz you. Especially not now."

"What was the point of changing your approach with Madam Umbridge? Why hanging her upside down from the ceiling on her underwear, rather than eviscerating her?"

"Zat was ze wish of a friend of us, may God rest 'er soul."

"Who was this friend?"

"We do not blame ze dead. Once gone, zey are forgiven. Everyzing after taking ze step over ze verge, ees not fully een our 'ands, therefore we do not blame zose anymore, 'o passed over. Eet ees a different world wiz different laws and such needs different judgement. We are solely cognizant in ze world of ze living."

"You would say you see yourself as rightful judge and executioner?"

"Why all zeese questions!", Jeanne gave a pitiful moan. "Eet ees like een a kindergarten 'ere! But no, I do not. I am only ze judge, as you wish to call it, Abelarda does ze dirt work; and what a devil she ees; and Feng, takes care zat no – _little children_ – spy on us. So now zat all ze monsters 'o are left 'ave fled abroad, I 'ardly reckon you would be needing our 'elp. Zey are too far away for your Ministry to be een charge. You 'ave no choice but leaving ze job to us, Minister, and I assure you, ze ozer Ministries will not even notice we ever were in zeir countries. Eef you seek for cooperation zen, you will only earn panic. We shall work much cleaner from today on. Or as eet ees razer, we will also do ze washing.", she gave a playful giggle. "Now before we leave you to your everyday stress, I would like to speak a few words to zat wonderful young man 'ere 'o 'as guessed our motives right."

"Me?", Harry aspirated.

"Well, of course, yes, exactly you, dear 'Arry! 'Aving known your fazer for years, I can gladly say zat, eef 'e could, 'e would like to tell you zat 'e ees utterly proud of you zat you 'ave become a better person zan 'e was.", Harry's heart leapt up high. "You 'ave proven to be a fantastique Auror."

"You knew my Dad as well?"

"Eet ees apparent, not? Yes, your fazer and I 'ave been – fairly good friends.", the woman took a deep breath and Harry could have sworn to see the shiny eyes in the holes glisten for a moment. "And wherever 'e may be, I can tell you zat 'e ees proud of you."

"That's some words,", Ron chuckled quietly.

"Shut it.", Harry hissed back.

"I would also like you to deliver messages to some people we 'ave been watching out of ze shadows on ze account of an old friend 'o left zis world.", Jeanne continued over their short argue.

"Yes?"

"Ze words come directly and exactly like zis, from Severus Snape.", the very same heart that had been throbbing against his larynx, now plunged into his stomach that nearly gave in.

"Hang on,", whispered Ron.

"But first you must understand zat 'e could not 'ave said those zings while Voldemort was still among ze living.", Harry nodded. "Very well.", the woman reached into the front pocket of her red velvet robe, pulled a sheet of paper and held it up.

"Harry!", Ron hissed, but he didn't care. "What the – what're you doing! Are you mental?"

Steadier with every step, he left the masses, the shield letting him through without resistance. He quite well knew that feeling of walking far longer than it actually was, but probably he didn't have it now because he had already expected it to come. Far more, it felt as though he was approaching an old, very good friend, unknown but ever present, almost like walking into trustworthy arms, going home after a long day of exhausting work.

Being close enough then, he tried to look explicitly at those strangely familiar eyes behind the mask. But from the distance he could for sure say the person in the wide red velvet dress, who was his size, was indeed a woman. She now brandished with the letter so as to make him take it. Harry did that with another quick glance, pulled it from the envelope, unfolded it and read the words that were written with a handwriting similar to that in the Potions book he had miraculously received at the beginning of his last school year at Hogwarts, only that there was much more flow to them, much more security. It was the writing he had last seen on a simple birthday card.

 _Should this letter ever reach any hand but mine, I ask it only to be passed on when the war against Tom Riddle was won and following people survived it, but me:_

 _To Minerva McGonagall I would like to speak my congratulations for having secured Hogwarts and its students. My gratitude also goes to each and everyone who assisted her. Furthermore, I beg Horace Slughorn to finally give up on all of his bad habits of which he knows perfectly well to what I am referring to_. _I would also wish Filius Flitwick to take the same into account._

 _Then I would like to ask Draco Malfoy not to overdo things once peace is returning. It does not get along well with his pointless wish to live long enough to take responsibility for all of his father's faults._

 _I also wish to speak my apology to all those who had suffered emotionally from my teaching methods and respect to all who stood up against the torture of the Carrow twins, and even more, the whole regime they had been serving._

 _The following words go to Hermione Granger_ :

Harry's eyes nearly popped out when he saw the signs written there. He couldn't read them at all yet as it was handwriting, but recognised them to be Cyrillic letters. Looking up, he only saw that Jeanne had closed her eyes. The rest of the letter was in English again.

 _From Ronald Weasley I expect at least a little acceptance and discretion. Some rules might be asking for being broken, but others are crucial to be followed._

 _To his sister Ginevra and her dear friend Luna Lovegood I would like to speak my utmost gratitude for everything they have done for me and the world. For Ginevra, I have a few more words: don't linger in worlds in between. Don't cling to that which has been given no heart. As a good friend once said to your dear, `It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live´. Live, my foxy. And for Heaven's sake, tell Hermione to listen to what Luna tells her. If possible, with all the vigour of a true Weasley._

 _Then last, I am writing to you, Harry, in hope you will be ready to forgive me for all I have done to you. Please do not think bad of me – or your mother even. Some reasons might not be clear to you yet, but I beg you to accept them in the way given, until you can fully understand. I dearly wish you the future Sybill Trelawney predicted for you in her last desperate attempt to not being slapped by PP but advise you to reconsider the Minister-part and rather do some really useful manual work. I wish you from the bottom of my heart, the chance to be the father you always longed for having yourself. May a long time pass until we meet on the other side of the river.._

Letting the tears make their way, Harry carefully stuck the letter back into its envelope and stuffed that securely in his Mokeskin Pouch. Unsure whether to actually do what he felt the need for, he didn't even notice that he scratched his neck until Jeanne escaped a faint chuckle. On that, he composed himself, looked at Jeanne once more and pulled her into a grateful embrace that made her stagger slightly, but he caught her weight.

"Thanks.", he whispered, his voice shaking. "For everything."

"For you, always.", she whispered back and, though a little hesitantly, returned his gesture.

It didn't matter how the people in the hall stared at them. None of them knew the reason. He could hear deep, faintly trembling breathing from under the mask and hood and knew that she cried as much as he did. On that, he held her close, as tight as he could without becoming forceful, or even only demanding. And when everyone lowered their wands; including Ron at last; the two separated and Jeanne patted on his head in a way that made Harry's breath get stuck. In the moment the memory flashed before his eyes, the three women stepped back and became glowing white fog that melted to a single bundle.

"Good luck – ", Harry gargled at them the second they vanished into thin air and he could have sworn to have heard three familiar voices breathe their gratitude.

For a long while, he just stood there, his wand in hand, and stared into space where they had gone, having left a blinded spot on his wet eyes. Ron had come running, but he didn't care. He couldn't care less who was going to ask what or whether the encounter might be making it to the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. If it did, he would surely add it to his grandfather's collection. He ignored the stare Ron gave his tears or the words he whispered when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry? Are you – crying? Hey – what was that mate? Talk to me! What's in that letter? And why did you – ", with a sigh, Harry got back out the parchment and read one wish aloud.

"` _From Ronald Weasley I expect at least a little acceptance and discretion. Some rules might be asking for being broken, but others are crucial to be followed_.´ Whatever that means, Ron, I think he's right and you should do that."

Sighing again, Harry stored the letter another time, wiped off his tears and marched straight to the lifts, dropping some more information as the crowd made way.

"The Avenger Case is officially _and_ unofficially closed. Someone should tell Gringotts that the victims' vaults are released. There's nothing in there anyway which they'd need to protect. And after lunch I'll take a look at that shop that swallows customers up in Glasgow, if nobody minds."

~~#~~

"And? What did he write?", Ginevra asked, her head resting in Harry's lap.

"You really think I'll tell you?", huffed Hermione, carefully cut out the part with two flicks of her wand and melted the rest seamlessly together with another.

"Hey!", Harry moaned from the sofa, but Hermione had already thrown it in the air and stored her part in her beaded bag. "That's really unfair, you know?", he summoned the now shorter letter into his free left hand; the other was brushing through Ginevra's hair.

"There is a reason why he wrote that in Russian. It's awful enough that you stole my book for Gaelic Runes. And besides, I thought you had enough time to decipher it."

"For the last time, Hermione, I didn't steal it! I didn't even touch it! I merely tapped it twice with my wand."

"And why had it laid on my bed then?"

"You should ask Luna,", meant Ginevra.

"Oh come on.", groaned Hermione, leaning back in the armchair that faced them.

"Really. And I've been ordered to tell you to listen to her. You just read it. So Hermione, _for Heavens' sake, listen to what Luna tells you_."

"Yes. After all she seemed to have known exactly what we would face if we broke into Gringotts, Just to name one.", Harry noted. "You can't deny. And you even understood it then."

"I remember exactly what she said. That could have applied on everything! The whole war! The entirety of life!"

"Well, then you have proof she's wise enough to be taken serious."

"Oh shut up.", she murmured at their mutual smiles, fighting hard against her own.

"And since when do _you_ understand Russian? Stole _my_ books or what?"

"He gave her lessons.", Ginevra answered casually.

"What?", Harry's brows narrowed.

"And also in Occlumency. It appears, I succeeded. Not even Dumbledore could enter my mind.", she crossed her arms and legs and gave him an utmost malicious, conceited smirk. "Can you say that of yourself?"

"I have learned to shield my mind at last.", her played tension fell off.

"But it took you far longer.", she sighed.

"And I can provide you some very good reasons. A, I've not been connected to Voldemort because he used Legilimency on me but because I was carrying around a piece of his soul, _if_ you should remember, and B, he admitted that it was mainly his own fault that I failed in his lessons."

"When did he do that?", Hermione straightened with interest.

"What did he write to you?"

"That's none of your business!", she hissed.

"Touché.", meant Harry and took a deep, self-satisfied breath, looking out into the darkness.

"What are you doing?", Hermione had raised, searching for something in her pouch and went around the armchair, coming to halt in front of the warming fire in the big chimney.

"A job,", she aspirated.

"No, honestly, what are you – ?", Ginevra sat up as well, staring at her orange shining outlines when she studied a small piece of paper. "Hermione?", the other girl had slid from the sofa now and walked over to her. "What's that?", Hermione let her read the pencil note. "When did he – "

"Grimmauld Place.", Harry now joined them too to have a look on what they discussed. "Remember, when he yelled at Walburga – and told you off for being rude towards your mother? He pushed that under the door. I could just hide it and lie down before you came in."

"Potion? So there's really been one?"

"I never told you?", Hermione now fought with tears, rather than a smile.

"Er – tell me and I know whether it's again or for the first time."

"That's how it all started. With a – a little serving of Sleeping Potion."

"Oh. That one.", Ginevra chuckled sadly.

"I kept requesting more throughout the year."

"Yes. Now I definitely remember."

"But I forgot some in my trunk when I handed back the Time Turner. Then I carried it around in my school bag as a sort of Remembrall. I still have it, to be honest.", she smiled as sad as Ginevra's chuckle had been.

"He asks you there to – "

"Burn the paper, yes."

"And – ", Hermione took a deep breath and threw the small, crumpled piece into the flames. "Not really."

"Yes, really."

"And what's that roll?", she slightly unrolled it, reading the lines and lastly, some tears ran down her cheeks and her lips curled like the paper in the fire. "Hermione?", but she only waived Harry off with a shaking head and quiet crying, trying not to feel Ginevra's hand on her back or see the tears that stood in her friend's eyes as well. "If that is what I think it is – "

"And what – do you think – it is – Harry?"

"He had had a P in Divination?", Harry moaned disbelievingly and Hermione couldn't restrain her sobbing any longer.

"Yes, he had. They both had – and dropped it for Muggle Studies. But your guess – had been – right. I did – write to him."

"So that's why he wrote in capitals. So – "

"You wouldn't recognise the writing, yes."

"Wow. You really were deep into this,", both girls escaped a flat laugh.

"Yes, she was far deeper into that than you might imagine.", Ginevra smirked and Hermione wiped her tears dry to look at his writing one more time, before she – "Hermione – "

"I think, he didn't quote Dumbledore only for you.", she took one of the deepest breaths she had ever taken and slightly shivered at the sensation. "And he ordered me several times to burn it. Also in that letter. He wrote that no matter how much I would write onto the paper, it would only erase his words and bring no new. He meant, the one or other way, I would eventually erase them. But that I should decide for myself which way would hurt me less.", she explained hollow while they watched the roll burn down. "And I think, following the instructions in his last will hurts me much less.", Hermione sniffed shortly, wiped off some more tears and went for the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?", Ginevra asked quietly.

"Dinner. You should be going too, if you don't want to order the waste from Kreacher."

With a last chuckle, she left them alone with the fire in the otherwise empty common room. Arm in arm, they listened to the crackling, the heavy wind blowing around the tower, their breathing and beating of their hearts, and watched the flames dance. When those ate up the final word, Ginevra leant her head closer to Harry, holding onto his Oxford blue satin shirt and he laid his right hand on her head, comforting it to his collarbone when her eyes closed. He didn't see it, but somehow, he could feel it. His own remained open.

"What's precious?", he whispered softly.

"Hmm?"

"The last word – any idea what he might have written there?"

"Time.", Ginevra aspirated back.

"Time?"

"Time's precious.", she sighed. "Will you stay overnight?"

"I'll leave on Monday morning. That store's really worrisome, but it can wait until Monday."

"Okay. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, actually. But it doesn't matter."

"And how it does. You're no use to me or anyone else if there's just bones left. And I'm starving too. Besides, I don't know whether you know, but I don't like waste and I think Kreacher doesn't like me at all either. So before Hermione turns out to be better at predicting than Luna, we'd rather get cracking."

~~#~~


	71. Chapter 70 - Crimson Waters

– Chapter 70 –

 **Crimson Waters**

Windswept and sticky hair, spread in awkward ways and sopping wet clothing. The style was unitary. Everyone who had made it back to the Great Hall for lunch, too hungry to take a voluntary shower first or even only dry themselves magically, looked the same. Almost the same. One of the tables, the only table that wore mostly green among black, held a mood nothing short of pure depression. The rest of the hall was cheerful, even partly the losers' Head of House. But that was probably because he was having a lively chat with one of his former favourite students who seemed bothering her own appearance as much as the majority did. Her thick dark hair was hanging down in still dripping bundles over her dark skin and her green Quidditch uniform created a small pond around her feet.

A thundering applause broke out when the heroine of the hour was carried in on the shoulders of her Housemates along with her equally exhausted and drenched comrades. Supporting her as well, two of her brothers who had taken a day off for the match, her best female friends; one wearing a big lion's head for a hat; and her fiancé, whose long black hair was as wavy as hers and Hermione's, despite being as wet as everyone else's. Neville, Hannah, Dean, Seamus and Parvati helped holding up the other players.

After long, action-packed hours, Ginevra had caught the Snitch hanging upside down on her broom and speeding only inches above the muddy ground of the pitch, having given the Slytherin Seeker no chance to beat that. Grinning like a Cheshire cat and laughing out what was left of her lungs, she held the thrashing golden nut high up for everyone to see it, bathing in the carols that echoed through the hall, crushing the Slytherins with a variation of the famous words that had once been written by one of them. Almost all of Hogwarts sang ` _Weasley is our Queen_ ´, as they were carried through the central corridor, up to the middle of the hall and let down to finally take a seat and enjoy lunch as though they had already won the cup.

"SHUT UP!", Ginevra laughed when everyone had made themselves comfortable. "I'M HUNGRY!", but instead of digging in, she grabbed Harry's face and the cheers burst their ears once more on their kissing.

"I'd like to kiss a Weasley too.", Hermione meant amid more peals of laughter and an indifferent shrug of Ron and – bent around to place a thick kiss on Ginevra's cheek before she devoted to her boyfriend's lips, Ginevra laughing on into Harry's chest then.

"I'm sorry to disturb,", a teacher deadened the rejoicing, his arm laid around his girlfriend who still wore a red raincoat over her Hufflepuff uniform, "Mostly because I might risk being attacked with apples by my former Housemates, but that was an _absolutely_ _breathtaking_ , _magnificent_ and _epically amazing_ game. From all of you. Feel free to carry on. Oh – and long overdue ten points to Ravenclaw for that extraordinary hat, Luna."

"Now, now.", the Headmistress, her shining red robes being of a darker red now than before the match and her bun sloppily dangling between her shoulder blades, had reached the core of the party. "That is slightly – too less for Ravenclaw. I would say, another ten for Miss Patil for levitating herself up from the ground onto the highest seats of the stands."

"But Madam!", Padma moaned, having magically cut out a piece of a bench to fit in her wheelchair at the Gryffindor table. "I'm not a student anymore!"

"Oh as if I wouldn't know after such remarkable results on your N.E.W.T.s.", McGonagall lilted. "But that doesn't stop me from awarding points to your former House. And you lot, you should rather be quick with that meal of yours and get yourselves dry. The season isn't over yet. For the rest of you, a cold is no excuse for missing classes."

"That would apply to you as well, Professor."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Granger. I can very well keep myself healthy. Yes, I can. Oh don't give me that look, Draco – oh my goodness – "

All heads turned into her viewing direction. The black woman had abandoned Slughorn at the staff table and wiped back her wet hair, flouncing towards the heart of the red mass, her broad shoulders adding a breathtaking touch to it, as if she was a dark lion herself.

"That's really been a fantastic game, you played there.", she raised her voice while she was still walking the last yards and the hall fell completely silent, heads eagerly peeking past others.

"Holy – fire spitting barnacle, may you strike me hard – ", Ginevra aspirated to herself, staring up to the woman, probably more perplexed than everyone else in the hall.

"No way – ", Ron breathed. "No – that can't be – that's not – no – "

"You deserve the title `Queen´, Miss Weasley.", Ginevra went bright red but swung her legs over the bench, sprang up and stood as straight as if she was about to salute. "Ey, no need to be so stiff, mate.", the woman grinned with her arms akimbo. "That was a damn great catch."

"Thanks.", Ginevra chuckled, a little more relaxed now and even the Snitch she still held seemed to calm down.

"For how long have you been Seeker?"

"Quite a while. I've actually started as a Chaser, but went as a substitute when Harry wasn't allowed to play.", she shortly jerked her head down at him. "I've done his job ever since then."

"Captain too, I heard?"

"Yeah."

"Great. That's a really good team you've built yourself there.", Ginevra only chuckled with a flattered smile. "Fine. You seem to know who I am, don't you?"

"She used to have her room wallpapered with you,"

"Shut up, Harry!", Ginevra hissed from the corner of her mouth.

"Really? Well, that's an honour. Now. You'll graduate this year?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Half of my team's had their fills, but you might know anyway."

"I – do?", aspirated Ginevra, her breathing becoming heavier and Ron's jaw clapped open, apparently having understood where this was going.

"Right. I'll be lacking a Chaser, Seeker, Keeper and my second half and so I'll have to face a very much renewed team for the Millennium Season. Not so bad. I'm prepared for that. The problem _is_ ,"

"Everyone in the junior teams is afraid of you.", Ginevra mumbled subdued.

"You got it. _No idea why_ , but they seem to fear me more than my bat and that's no use if they want to be in my team. Anyway, that's why I thought, I might go looking at the very bottom. I've secretly watched all previous games of the school year, and saw some really satisfying stuff here. But it wasn't enough, you know. Though that game today, I must admit, your team beat the crap out of me. So, unfortunately you're the only bird in that freaky casserole, but if you find some worthy for the other free positions, just send me an owl and I'll take a look at them, okay?"

"Okay – ", Ginevra panted.

"So, if you're as good a Chaser as you're a Seeker, I'll leave you the choice, how you go searching for our team. Deal?", she held out her right hand; it took Ginevra a moment to grasp that this was actually happening, but she accepted with a broad smile.

"Absolutely!"

"Any more to say?", they let go.

"Nothing more than _thank you_ , Captain Jones!"

"Gwen, for you now.", she winked and gave her a firm pat on the shoulder, but Ginevra was so used to receive those from her brothers that her knees didn't give in, notwithstanding her state of being completely out of sorts. "Then, enjoy your well-earned lunch. I'll be off for my own, okay?"

"Sure."

"If I haven't received an owl earlier, but you still want to be in the team, just send me an invitation to your graduation party."

"I'll do that, yes.", Ginevra chuckled.

"See you."

"Yeah – bye – "

Each and everyone stared after Gwenog as she left the hall for the open front gates and disappeared out in the rain. Then the applause erupted once more and, pure pride in her eyes, Minerva McGonagall laid her hand on Ginevra's left shoulder when Harry had gotten up and gently pulled her into his arms. Ginevra only covered her face with her hands, unwilling to reveal the tears of disbelief. Ron had wrapped his own arms around Hermione's stomach from behind, the gaze at his sister mirroring that of their former Head of House.

"Now it's confirmed!", George grinned, standing and clapping like many others again. "There's a real Harpy in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Weasels!"

~~#~~

Fresh snow glided down on muddy grounds, between some newborn leaves that would quite probably not survive the night. An invisible force dug into the dirt, mixing the gentle white with wet brown again and again and forming rather deep trenches for something that was not supposed to be there. But for her, it was. As was it for many others now. They however, were far away and she was alone – or would have been, for the eyes of someone who had the luck of not being able to see what reshaped the forest ground.

Snowflakes vanished in midair when they landed on the dark, bony bodies, but for her, they melted on the warm skin of the beings. With an absent smile, she threw a raw piece of meat into the herd and watched one of them swallow it with relish, while the others shared a dead Acromantula.

Cold crawled up her legs, but her thoughts were too distant from where she stood as to bother. The waterproof, thick woollen stockings kept away most of it. Suddenly, she was not alone with the herd anymore. From behind, a hooded figure approached her in the shelter of the old trees, graceful like the breeze's sigh – it could have been caution, or sadness. But it was not hesitation. She didn't turn. There was no need. Somehow, she had expected someone to come. The stranger stopped at her side and neither looked at the other. Their eyes only followed the next piece of meat that was thrown onto the ground.

For a long while, they stood there, silent, studying the peaceful herd, until her bag was empty. Then the stranger turned to leave, without a look at her, without a word. But he stopped once more, upon a whisper that spoke to him, accompanied by a soft smile, and she held out her loose fist while the words glided over her lips.

"They won't be able to move on unless everyone has let them go."

Hesitation had arrived then. It filled the entire body of the other, when a hand in a black glove approached the tiny stone which laid on fair, seemingly fragile fingers. Those indeed belonged to a strong body that hosted a much, much stronger soul and heart, much like the other. And though in a glove, the hand shivered at the touch, whether it was that of which had held the stone or the stone itself, neither knew, nor cared.

Fascinated, or unsure whether it was there, the fingers in black held up the stone against the silhouette of the angelic face, blurred to the eyes due to the focus on the object.

"He knows.", she said, not losing her smile, but the hand sank with the other's fingers enclosing the stone. "But I'm sure you were aware of that already. Though there's no need to worry. He won't spoil it, and you know that too."

For a moment that appeared like an eternity, she paused, as if waiting for a reaction, regardless of knowing there wouldn't be the slightest.

"I'll tell her to do something to get her mind off on a certain day, if that is alright for you,"

There was still no answer, but neither did she request one, nor would it have been necessary for the hooded to say any word at all. Both understood.

And the black figure, not really a stranger, became like the animals – invisible to those who had a pleasant life, and even more, invisible to all who weren't supposed to see. As silent as he had arrived, he went. As silent, the girl turned into the other direction and was gone equally.

~~#~~

Dramatic weather ruled over all following weeks, bringing loads of rain and snow in rotating intervals all over Britain, making it almost impossible for anyone to spend a day outside and clouds were so omnipresent that the one or other began to make jokes of wondering about what a clear sky would look like, if there should ever be one again, apart from the artificial weather images created in the many fake windows of the Ministry of Magic. So it wasn't until May that the real sky showed itself to larger parts of the isles and Hogwarts even had to wait for the first of June to see a sunrise without clouds, though they decided to return to business in the course of the day and gathered for a nice thunderstorm that stagnated one person's mood that was anyway in horrible conditions ever since the first anniversary of a certain battle.

It had been a reserved celebration at Hogwarts, with some tear-washed speeches under the many grey clouds that had conquered the sky so effectively. Far away from that school, where students and teachers alike were drowning in examination stress as though there had never been any war, he drowned in the weather. The leaf canopy wasn't the umbrella he had hoped for. His eyes boring into the stone in front of him though he didn't fully see it past his tired, wet eyes and the equally wet glasses, his thoughts were everywhere but the place he stood at.

They were with two sisters and a little boy that probably sat together on the veranda of their lone house, gazing out at the lake. Then they moved on, to high numbers of children he didn't know, but knew to be well cared for in an orphanage that had been opened around Easter. They were with the job he was supposed to dedicate to at the very moment, but was unwilling to do so, knowing he might risk his occupation. They were with his fianceé, who would quite probably graduate in a month with highest marks in the subjects she took and afterwards become what he felt sorry for not having had in mind himself when he had been asked about his planned career: a professional Quidditch player in one of Britain's best teams.

But life had had different ideas for him from the beginning on anyway. His thoughts travelled to his room in The Burrow, that was missing a red wall ever since January, but now hosted a picture of Hogwarts in front of an almost clear blue sky he had painted himself from a photo reference and was really proud of. The bed in front had been enlarged and he couldn't await sharing it with Ginevra again. And then, those thoughts were torn radically off their path, by the voice of a friend.

"Hey.", his head spun to the young man he hadn't heard coming or noticed in any other way, but was glad it was him and not someone who would mean harm.

"Hey.", he replied as limp and looked back at the grave while Neville closed up with his hands in his wetting pockets.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not wise to stand under a tree while a thunderstorm's showcasing its most magnificent bolts above?", Harry only shrugged. "Or want to join them at last.", he shrugged again. "Robards's really worried."

"What do I care.", Harry sighed, but it was nearly swallowed by a thunder.

"I don't think they'd want it.", Neville gave the grave a nod.

"Perhaps,"

"Look, I didn't really come to cheer you up, because I know you won't let me do that. But someone's waiting for you in Robards' office."

"And who?"

"No idea who she is."

"She?", Harry still wouldn't look up, but did indeed develop some rapidly increasing interest.

"The door opened and suddenly she was there. I'd just handed over my report on that mishap in Aberdeen when the door opened and closed. She came totally invisible and locked us in. But I didn't get to see her face yet. Wore a Death Eater mask."

" _What?_ ", Harry's head jerked up so quick his glasses slid to the side and he had to readjust them, though it didn't benefit his sight much.

"Dunno. She didn't do anything than assuring us she wouldn't harm anyone but rather has information for you you'd be eager to hear."

"Alright – ", Harry panted and seconds later they walked through the Atrium of the Ministry, drying their eyes. "Did she trap you?", he asked on, cleaning his glasses.

"No. She was rather busy defending herself with a Shield Charm against Robards. When he'd calmed down, she even restored the office."

Due to the average weather, no one was paying attention to the stream they created on the tiled floor behind. They weren't the only ones to do so, and people had gotten used to jumping out of the way of enchanted mops soaring through the air to do their duty. The clattering of the lift as loud as the thunderstorm over Godric's Hollow, they quickly jumped out at their floor and headed straight for the double door of the Auror Office.

"What the – Harry? Have you taken a bath or what?", Ron chuckled from his desk as they passed him.

"Nearly.", Neville answered for him. "Picked him up showering himself under a tree."

"Hopefully it wasn't a walnut tree.", a woman giggled.

"I'm not _as_ unfortunate as your Dad, Simone.", Harry grumbled and splashed Neville with more water when he shook his hair in front of their boss's closed office door.

"Right. Shall we?"

"Yeah.", Neville pressed down the handle, but the door wouldn't open.

"Okay? Well, seems we have to wait.", but they waited in vain.

"Are you sure she didn't feign an excuse to kill him in there while you were away?"

"That's not funny,"

"I didn't laugh."

"I know. Still. Get back."

"What – no! You're not going to burst it up!"

"What other chance do we have?"

"An unlocking spell?", Harry moaned. "Or maybe – that?", he knocked three firm times.

"Knocking?", Neville murmured, but the lock clicked and Harry threw him an angry glance. "Oh."

"And you thought I'm off my trolley, standing under a tree in a storm. Honestly, bombarding a door before considering asking politely – as if we'd be facing Fluffy in there."

"And if we are? You just said she might have killed him – "

"Oh shut up.", Harry opened the door lively and immediately found a wand pointed at his face.

"Good.", still covered with a soft golden metal mask, the woman breathed the word at him. "You, may enter. But he,", she nodded a single time at Neville, "Will wait outside.", she stepped back and let him in. "Just like you.", her wand was now pointed at Robards who held his own up as well.

"I will not leave you alone in here with him."

"You survived me too, didn't you? I said, I have information for him. Not an Infernal Crystal. Get out."

Harry could see the angry, flashing blue eyes follow his boss until he had left. Then the door fell shut and he was locked in with the woman who wore thick purple leather robes and a hooded cloak in similar colour, which she now pushed back and revealed an elegant dark blond mane. When she trailed her wand over her mask, it dissolved and Harry got to see a heavy jawed, tanned, but otherwise quite beautiful face. Nevertheless her expression was grim and she studied him from top to bottom.

"You really had a shower.", her rather growling voice with an unmistakably American accent fitted the rugged features, but her look became slightly amused and she blinked several quick times.

"And if?", Harry grunted at her. "Who are you and what do you want."

"Straight forward to the point, yes. That's how I like it. Well, I want to offer you some help."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that.", she reached into one of her front pockets and pulled a small, silver pouch, from which she withdrew a thick, red, Dragon skin folder that was bound shut with two belts.

"What's that?", Harry stared up at her but took it anyway.

"Don't ask. Open.", a little sceptical, he did so. "Well?"

"Er – "

"Familiar with that?"

"That's – ", he held up a photo that was owned by red, one of that kind he had decided to take off the wall for good.

"They've continued your work. Recorded all data, took photos – and cleaned up afterwards. No signs on doors anymore, but they continued their job, like they stated."

"And how come you get hands on that?", Harry closed the folder securely and resumed looking deep into her crystal eyes, trying to break into the mind behind, but was smacked back out before he could get a single glimpse through her guards.

"I'm a friend."

"They work alone."

"So do you, preferably.", he said nothing on that. "See? But that doesn't mean they don't have a life apart from that work.", Harry shortly wiggled his eyebrows on her clothes.

"You fought at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Okay. How much do you want for that?"

"Charming.", she chuckled. "I offer you help. A friend doesn't ask being paid for such."

"If you say so,"

"Not only I. I heard, you say that too in times."

"Why now."

"Simply. They're still not done yet. By far not. But some must've taken a whiff that they're still active and returned to Britain."

"What?"

"Yes, you heard me right. They're back in town. But don't go looking. You won't find any hint."

"Never expected I would."

"Good. So? Want to keep up your collection?"

"You can bring me all?"

"Well, for a macabre museum, why not?", the woman smiled sheepishly.

"You can get me all of it?", his tone became demanding and she nodded briefly, but earnest. "And you're sure you want nothing in return?"

"Like what?"

"Oh I dunno – a coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee.", she said soft.

"Or a beer?"

"No alcohol either."

"A trip to Disneyland?"

"I entered the British Ministry of Magic without being noticed before I went through that door we're standing by. The gates of a No-Maj theme park are no obstacle for me. Besides, I was there already."

"Liked it?"

"Quite, yes."

"Okay. Then say something."

"I said, I don't want anything in return."

"I insist."

"Your look tells me no different."

"Well?"

"A hug?", she smirked but Harry found her shocked when he actually hugged her; though positively.

"Thanks.", he whispered, surprised himself how wonderful the arms of a stranger on his back could feel, but maybe it was only due to his current average state of miserable – which also seemed to be fading away now. "What was your name again?"

"I didn't say a name.", they separated.

"Will I ever get one?"

"Call me Ju, if you like."

"Ju?"

"Ju.", the blonde smiled so gentle now it didn't fit to her face at all.

"And where does that Ju come from?"

"A large, boring town, somewhere in Britain, with a pond and a willow at the outskirts."

"You don't look British. You don't sound British at all."

"Well, that's 'cause you're just looking at the face of a farmer who lives a solitary life in the middle of a Texan nowhere and has no clue her brush's missing a hair since this morning.", even if he had wanted it, Harry wouldn't have been able to stop the chuckle from bursting out of him.

"Should've known."

"You should."

"Yeah."

"You should also get your buttocks out there and play some chess with your ginger friend. He looks far too unemployed for having a serious job."

"Now does he?"

"And how he does."

"I don't reckon, I'll see you again?", she sighed with a smirk.

"I won't steal another hair of hers,"

"That's likely."

"Although I must admit, that accent's sorta fun. Right. Keep your eyes open for an owl."

"When?"

"Oh – every now and then?", she merely shrugged and vanished. "Bye, sweetheart.", she added when she pushed the door open and left without any sign of ever having been there but the folder and the dazzled faces of Harry's boss and colleagues.

"And?", Neville frowned, still standing where he had left him and Harry strutted out with the folder held to his chest, very much like Hermione would do it with some of her beloved; or not; books.

"Chess."

"Chess?", Robards gazed after him, watching him sit down by Ron's desk.

"Chess. Come on, Ron. Get out your board. It's an official order."

"From whom?"

"Ju.", Harry grinned like a child.

"Who the heck is – "

"Ju.", he repeated, giving him a nod that said as much as `if you don't know whom I mean, I can't help you´. "So?"

"So?", Ron moaned, being as confused as everyone else in the large room.

"Chess."

"Do I have to kick Luna next time I see her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"And – drunk?"

"Negative."

"Stoned?"

"Never been."

"On Felix Felicis?"

"Natural luck, rather.", Harry smirked mock ponderingly.

"And what's that?", Ron attempted to tap a finger on the folder that laid on his desk now, but Harry's flat hand sped down on it.

"Mine.", he snarled grim.

"Bloody hell!", his friend gasped.

"Precisely. Now get out your chess board. I need to slay some pawns."

~~#~~


	72. Chapter 71 - Scrutiny

– Chapter 71 –

 **Scrutiny**

Stifling and reeking from flop sweat, the air was unbearable in the corridor behind the Great Hall, where a large number of students was gathered, anxious and nervous looks on many faces, as present as during the past days. The other half, was absolutely confident and talked about what they might be doing after school. But mainly, wand movements were trained or detail knowledge was shared in last minute. Among the students, whiter than any of them, a teacher had refused to leave one of the benches that had been put up along the wall, facing the row of windows. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and had his mouth buried in his palms, having a hard time not starting to cry on the ignorant dangling of Luna's legs to his left, as well as her random humming.

"Oh come on. She'll have done alright this time. She's just been too nervous."

"I know.", Draco panted into his hands. "But it's not D.A.D.A. that worries me. It's the rest. I've seen Tofty's face. The way he looked at me after she fled to hell only knows – "

"Alright, she might have screwed up Transfiguration again,", admitted Ginevra, "But there's been Charms and Potions and I'm sure she's already done well in Defence too."

"Three NEWTs is minimum for the post she wants. Good, she's pocketed Herbology with ease, but if she doesn't pass Potions and at least one other – ", the door opened and several heads rushed at Professor Coveridge who peered out with a list. "Oh my god – isn't – where's she – "

"Mr Goldstein, if you may follow me please, Miss Gommerick, you and Professor Tofty should be familiar by now and Miss Granger, to Professor Marchbanks of course. Miss Granger? Where – where is – "

"I'm – here!", she shouted from far down the corridor where it bent right to the door that led into the front yard.

"You? Late?", Ginevra laughed as she came running, completely exhausted, with something on her held out hands.

"Oh – shut – up – ", Hermione moaned and slid to halt. "You – won't – like to – hear – but I – "

"Miss Granger, Professor Marchbanks is waiting."

"Second – Madam. It's – about – life and – death – ", it was really hard for her to breathe and talk at once, but she had to. "Death, rather."

"What's that, Hermione?", Ginevra stared at the fluffy thing in her friend's hands.

"I'm so sorry – "

"Is that – Arnold?", her tone became similar to Hermione's.

"Crookshanks – I've – I've found him – in a – shortcut – with – with – oh Ginny – ", she handed the dead pet over and brushed back her sticky curls.

"Er – are you sure it was Crookshanks?", Ginevra frowned. "He looks rather like he just – snuffed it on his own – I don't see anything that's – "

"Really?"

"Yes. I mean, he's not even missing a single bit of his fur.", she turned the lifeless ball in all possible directions and searched for any wounds. "No blood, no scratches – nothing. They might just have said goodbye, you know? Anyway, Fred said I shouldn't expect him get too – old – er – yeah – ", upon realising what she had just said, she couldn't avoid blinking heavily at the dead furry animal.

"Oh Ginny – ", Hermione wailed.

"You – you should get going."

"What? Oh – my exam – yes – goodness yes! I'm there already, Professor!", Hermione downright lunged for the doorway to the hall, almost knocking McGonagall and Kingsley over, who had left their seats at the podium to see why she wasn't coming. "Sorry – I'm really, really sorry – my cat's killed – er – I mean, Ginny's Pygmy Puff – I just found him dead at my cat's feet – ", she stammered, but was silenced by McGonagall's hand on her shoulder and Kingsley's soft, deep voice.

"No need to worry, Hermione. Take some thorough breaths, calm down and take in your seat with Professor Marchbanks."

"Okay – sorry – "

She still aspirated her last apology, but took a step into the hall, where her colleagues had sat down already, waiting for their final exam to start – it struck her immediately. While the other practical examination settings had been quite similar, a sudden awareness shot into her head. This was it. She stood exactly where he had stood, only that he hadn't had needed to take care of a deceased little version of a Puffskein – let alone that this sort of breed hadn't existed yet back then. But this was the moment, no matter that she would still have to present her Thesis. It was the last of her exams, the end of her time at Hogwarts and she would never return as a student ever again. Yes, she would still be welcome in these halls, but it would be different from now on. Everything was and would be different.

Memories of already long gone time suddenly cascaded before her eyes, like people still described the final seconds awaiting death, where you would reflect on your entire life within mere seconds, and she felt just like she had back then, when she stepped up to the Sorting Hat, having the urge to vomit as well as turn and run for it at the same time. She smelled a strange mix of all the food she had ever eaten in this hall, heard snippets of Dumbledore's speeches; of the hat's songs – foreigners sitting down with them, and the mishap of the Weasley Twins' try to pass a certain age line. Umbridge's hair curl snapping up. Even her wrist now hurt from the memory of her fail in Apparition Class. A lonely dance under glistening Christmas decoration. Countless chess matches, one of which, had been her own. Dust, rubble, grief of an entire year and more of terror and anxious loneliness – and all of it blown away over a single summer – wiped from the hall, but not from memory. A new chapter, a new start.

With her head held high and an unmitigated look of peremptoriness to play down her panic, she flounced straight towards the very old Griselda Marchbanks and sat down in front of her, straighter than usual and her legs side to side, her hands in her lap, purposely. The woman gave her a worried gaze, but Hermione blocked it coldly.

"I am sorry to hear about your friend's – er – pet – do – do you feel capable of taking your exam?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Very well. Please put your hands on the table, where I can see them.", she did that, but how Marchbanks had asked her to do so, had sounded rather rude to her. "Good. As we have already spoken about your Thesis, we should go straight forward to some personal questions I however haven't had the opportunity to ask. I can understand that the death of a creature you seemed to like, can be a terrible add to the stress you already went through – eight N.E.W.T.s and a Thesis – absolutely extraordinary. You have, at least in terms of numbers, gotten close to – "

"I know whom I have gotten close to, thank you.", she said more snooty than she had intended to, but couldn't deny she was proud of the work she had loaded upon herself.

"Er – naturally.", Marchbanks gazed at her over her spectacles. "And I don't mean to worry you, but you seemed to have some troubles in your practical Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. examination. Of course I know what you have been through and doubt you would fail,"

"What I have been through.", Hermione snorted quietly. "We all have been through things, haven't we? And that result back then was the fault of someone who got herself pinned to the ceiling of her cell in Azkaban."

"If you refer to Dolores Umbridge,", Marchbanks sighed but was cut off again.

"Yes, exactly her."

"She might have ruined your education for a year, but I have knowledge of your successful resistance movement. It makes me a little more optimistic, but – fine. Before you chop me into slices with that look of yours, I will not linger on the matter any longer.", she shortly scratched her temple with another sigh, this time at the open folder between them. "However, I do have a note on your career advice interview in here. A side note from Madam Umbridge that you may be striving for a high position within the Ministry of Magic and – "

"I thought she would get that through. No, I don't want to go for – Mr Shacklebolt's post. As you might have assumed while reading my Thesis, I wish to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, namely in the Being Division. I have already had a job interview and was assured, once I achieved the required N.E.W.T.s, I could start working there."

"And which direction – "

"Rather the Goblin Liaison Office, but next to it working as a volunteer for better treatment of Houseelves."

"Very well. I have – ", the woman skipped some papers, "Yes, here it is. I have a question regarding your theoretical Charms exam. You wrote there that a Disillusionment Charm does not necessarily need an incantation spoken or even a wand held. I am familiar with the non-verbal casting, but so far I have not come to acknowledge that it can be done wandless and transfused – by touch? This is a minor error, but still I would like to hear why you wrote that."

"It's not an error at all.", Hermione remained cold. "I have seen someone doing it."

"Ah now I remember, yes, Houseelves can become invisible without a wand."

"I'm not talking about Elves."

"Not?", Marchbanks blinked.

"Not at all. It was a wizard and he was excellent at it."

"And who would that be?"

"Severus Snape.", she said curtly, charming a quiet chuckle out of Marchbanks.

"Now had he been?"

"Oh yes."

"Indeed, he was very talented. That has brought him not only friends, however. But you may be familiar with that, if you already know such about him."

"Quite."

"And – how did that work?"

"Will?"

"Of course. I did not expect any other answer. He believed strongly in willpower. I have read his Thesis in Defence Against the Dark Arts thoroughly, I remember, and I must say, he had believed in many extraordinary things he had managed to prove right. Yes, it appears very legit to also believe he may have been able to make himself invisible by only wanting it. I don't wish to further speak about his exams as this is _yours_ we are dealing with here, but it happens to lead me straight to my next question. Have you happened to have gotten the chance to read his Thesis as well or why else did you describe special forms of Patronuses so detailed, rather than merely naming them as the question – "

"I haven't gotten to read his Thesis, but I won't deny he told me a lot on the matter. Most of it appears; as you already pointed it out; _legit_ and it would surprise you – never mind. Next question?"

"What were you going to say, Miss Granger?", Hermione only gave her an annoyed stare. "Then not. Though I have indeed a very troubling question. Personally troubling. A fair number of your colleagues who already took their N.E.W.T.s before Christmas and also a number of the current, seem to be believing that there is something like an advanced version of the Killing Curse? They did not wish to give me further information, but all insisted that there is evidence."

"Then you should have used Legilimency on them.", mumbled Hermione. "Oh, forgive me. I forgot, it is illegal using it on an examinee.", she knew she had stepped across some border at last as the other two had raised for the practical part already, but Marchbanks seemed unwilling to stand up at all and preferred taking off her glasses very slowly, placing them carefully on the folder and looking straight into Hermione's eyes.

"Could it be,", she said very quiet and as slow, "That your relation to – Professor Snape – exceeded that of a teacher to a pupil? That you had gotten close to him in other ways than the number of N.E.W.T. exams taken?"

"I hardly believe, such is part of a regular examination, Griselda?", McGonagall joined in their conversation, causing silence to fall over the hall and a perfectly conjured shield to collapse.

"Please don't understand me wrong, Minerva, or especially you, Miss Granger. I am not accusing you of anything illegal. I am solely interested whether he – "

"Shared more than specialised knowledge? I am sorry to disappoint you, but what Professor Snape shared with me explicitly, he shared with me alone and I am not to tell anyone a thing about it."

"I can understand that you defend him. He partook in certain things that were rather irresistible, that much is proven, and even comprehensible when considering his background, once gotten over the shock how far he could indeed go in terms of – er – the forbidden."

"If you mean the Ministry record he managed to get himself _and_ steal without anyone's notice or the fact that he was a contract killer, for the one and other side, you tell me no news. I know things about him that would redefine the word `shock´ for you – and many more. But for your welfare, _Professor_ , I would prefer referring to a certain ` _Jeanne_ ´."

"That one Avenger?"

"Yes, that one. He's gone. He won't speak for himself here any longer. Nor will I. If you want to talk about him, ask Professor McGonagall whether she may grant you entry to her office for the chance of meeting his portrait there. But the last thing I would do, apart from giving away secrets to people who aren't capable of believing their own eyes, is promising you to get any answers from him, Madam. The castle is big and he knows to travel it faster than anyone I am just slightly familiar with, even the Ghosts. And I should know best, as he has successfully avoided me for an entire school year. But say, that you actually find him up there and are able to confront him without causing him to flee from you, he might as well listen to you with a smile and not give you any hint of an answer or response at all. To your actual question, yes, there is an advanced Killing Curse. I haven't seen it, but I believe the people who have. And that's much, considering that I normally don't like to believe anything without finding it logical or having witnessed it myself. Any more questions? Or shall I show you my Patronus already?", she jumped up.

"Miss Granger – I – "

"I could try to conjure Fiendfyre as well, Madam. I can't guarantee I have as much control over it as he had, but I think, giving it a try won't hurt, would it? Oh yes – I forgot – I am the little bookworm! I'm the theoretical! The Mudblood who could do complicated spells at young age but failed at highly advanced magic!"

"Miss Granger!", Marchbanks was on her feet as well.

"And you should definitely work on your shields, Madam.", Hermione huffed. "Harry wouldn't think bad of me if he was here. I'm like a sister to him and he would defend me. Besides, he will never take an educational exam again. He's not easy to _collect_. If you don't know what I mean, ask Professor Slughorn. Harry took his NEWTs irregularly because he didn't want to be displayed, but also not treated like a child. Everyone knows what he's capable of now. That's what differs him from his parents at that age, or me. While he's been deemed worthy enough to be believed everything at last, we others will still have to prove our abilities. That's unfair, seeing as Kingsley already tried to work against that by hiring people that haven't graduated but shown their skills otherwise. But you know what differs me from all others, Madam? What I really have in common with Harry?"

"Er – ", the examiner just stared at her like everybody else.

"I _want_ to still prove myself. For the sake of peace. So that a regime like Voldemort's cannot infest our rows again. I am a Mudblood. I am Muggle-Born and I am proud of it. Lily Evans might have failed at implementing that information, but we're not less talented or less valuable in any other way just because of our descent. Yes, it _does_ matter where you come from. Because, combined with your experience, it is what makes you. But it doesn't matter at all if you decide to ignore every bit of influence and do nothing with your life. Or worse, nothing but hurt others. It's not where we come from. We're all the same. We're all human. But we are individuals and it's each individual's choice to use their experience and knowledge from it for personal _and_ common welfare. Yes, I have killed a Death Eater.", it brought her exactly the reaction she had wished to get. "Or two, if I think about it. But that doesn't make me a bad person. I won't say, killing is alright. There are better options. And that is, what makes me a good person, in my opinion. I _know_ it is not okay to cause harm. That is what differs me. That is what makes me able to do _that_."

Though angry to the bone, she swung her wand and without even a whisper, a bluish silver stream burst from its tip, separating in the air and becoming a bright otter and crow. They rushed lively through the ancient hall, around her and gently sat down on her shoulders, flanking her definite expression.

"Next. Question."

~~#~~

Every day could be a good day, as much as everything else, considering the point of view. So while many people had complained about the rain on that late August day like they would every year, one young woman was different. She came in through the kitchen door of The Burrow while her family was already at supper, soaking wet. It hadn't surprised any of them that she hadn't taken off her new dark green uniform, but as much pride there was on her mother's face when she saw her only daughter so cheerful in spite of the exhaustion, as much anger gushed from her mouth when her look fell on the mud Ginevra spread on the floor.

"Cool down, Mum.", she laughed when she sat down and helped herself to some liver paste and a kiss of her husband. "I'll clean that later."

"You two fit together so perfectly.", moaned Molly. "Tidiness was never your strength."

"Oh shuch up, Mum.", munched Ron.

"Yeah. You know it's in the blood,", meant George who had decided to sleep at home more often again and now eyed his brother-in-law's neat robe that matched Ginevra's wet uniform in colour. "And besides, Harry's grown some sense of tidiness, you can't deny. I mean, look at that! He's as sleek as a whale on a beach! Apart from the black kelp of course."

"I just don't want to be called a beggar ever again, that's all. And after all it doesn't hurt being well dressed when you got a job at the Ministry. It works miracles on people that rate respect according to clothing. Spares faces from papers and badges being slammed into them."

"Though your hair's still shitty.", Ron added on the greasing mane with regardlessly standing off ends.

"Why don't you for once leave Harry's hair?", murmured Hermione. "We're not interested in that. What we're interested in is how Ginny's first day was, right?", her eyes travelled between the two gingers.

"Amazing.", grinned her friend. "Best day on a pitch ever. Okay, it's just been training, but it already felt like a game. Can't wait for the first one."

"Sounds good. But you should be careful. As you said, it was only just the first training. This is a complete new level now. You could seriously get hurt in a game."

"Don't be such a party pooper, Hermione.", Ginevra chuckled. "I can take care of myself. And you could seriously get hurt in Hogwarts games too, remember? I think, Harry's a great example. When have I ever gotten hurt, huh? How's _your_ first day been."

"Awful.", sighed Hermione. "I had no idea they would let me work through trade agreements. Incredible how low the Ministry's trust in Goblins is. My head is bursting with numbers and calculations."

"Yours? No way!", Ron caught himself a nauseated glance.

"That is how you usually start at the Ministry.", Arthur noted. "You do low work until they decide you can do better."

"Well, unless – ", George started, explicitly looking at Ron and Harry.

"But I got – "

"It doesn't matter how many OWLs or NEWTs you got.", said Harry. "Not in real life. Yeah, like I said, it does come in handy and I'm really glad I passed them. But other than that, not yet. And we've been trying to tell you for years and even now we turned out to have been right, you still won't believe us."

"Yeah. Look at us."

"Neither of us has graduated.", George agreed with his brother. "Mystery whales not counted. And still we got better jobs than you."

"But there are also many people who haven't graduated either and haven't got any job at all."

"So do people who graduated with best marks,", Harry crushed her angry pouting.

"Good certificates can indeed bring you further in life,", continued Arthur, ignoring his wife's warning stare, "But they aren't mandatory if you want to get the job you like to do. They might bring you better payment, though what matters is that you are happy with your occupation."

"Are you happy?", Hermione asked him.

"I wasn't, at first. But I learned brutally that I actually like what I do. Frustration is of course unavoidable when having to rely on others to cooperate. Still there is always a solution. Don't let yourself be beaten on your first day already. You are a clever young woman, Hermione. You know your way round, I'm sure. Did any of you hear news from Draco and Hannah, by the way?", like usually when the subject was raised, Hermione needed to be quick to step on Ron's foot to prevent him from complaining.

"I still need that bit!", he hissed under his breath.

"You haven't lost it yet, have you?", she countered.

"Sorry, forgot about that. He's sent me an owl yesterday."

"He's sent _you_ an owl, Harry?", Ron moaned.

"Problem?"

"No – it's just – it's still Malfoy, you know?", and Harry as well could be oblivious.

"They had to stay inside for a couple of days because of the horrible weather, but as soon as it gets better, they plan to visit the centre of Shanghai and move onwards to Quingdao and then Beijing and probably even get to see the Great Wall."

"I still don't understand why he of all wants to visit a Muggle building."

"It is one of the greatest structures ever built by men.", Hermione corrected Ron. "Of course it is horrible how many people had to die building it, but it is also a great example of what willpower can achieve. And who says it's been all Muggles to have built it? I don't question Muggles' abilities to build something that lasts as long, but – "

"Done with it?", snorted Harry. "I just meant to answer a question. You don't need to start arguing again."

"It's in her nature. Thought you knew – ow! Stop stomping on my feet!"

"I still don't get it.", Ginevra muttered quietly, shaking her head, drops from the still dripping bundles of long hair splattering in various directions. "How can they possibly – "

"I stopped questioning that long ago.", mumbled Harry. "Guess, they need it. _Anyway_ ,", he continued more forceful, "They seem to do alright. Although Draco believed he'd gotten mad the other day."

"He finally admits it?", Ron chuckled and got himself another loathing look from his wife, who eventually choked at Harry's next sentence.

"He thought he'd seen Karkaroff sitting in a teahouse."

"You're alright?"

"I'm – fine – ", Hermione coughed, bright red.

"But he meant, since we got proof he's definitely dead, his mind must have played a trick on him. And besides, even if he'd miraculously still be alive, what would he be doing in China? He never seemed to be the type to hang out in a teahouse, if you ask me."

Harry laughed but Hermione could see that Draco's supposed sighting troubled him, and her as well, she had to admit. After all she was still carrying Karkaroff's body around in her beaded handbag, transfigured to a single bone. But maybe Draco had really gotten a bit too fond of him before the battle and the different climate messed with his eyes. After all he had frequently seen things ever since it, or at least confessed openly that he did see things; she didn't know whether it had ever been like that; that weren't there. Understandable, considering what he had gone through.

Draco had loaded himself with big projects, Harry had decorated his wall with corpses, Ron had fled into chess parties and Ginny had started writing a secret diary. Only little more than a year had passed since the end of the war, a year that had gone by faster than any other and she had gotten to understand that she was the only one who hadn't built herself a castle of ignorance, a castle to crouch up in and lock out the world. Or had she? Wasn't her castle a construction of secrets? A web of lies? A castle Luna had tried desperately to destroy? Why was Luna so keen on Severus' innocence? Still? Any time they talked about those Death Eater murders? But the evidence was there.

"Tell me, what is wrong with you, dear?"

"Huh?", she had been so deeply in considerations that she had lost track of the conversation.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Mum.", Ginevra frowned.

"Oh of course there is something wrong with you. I can see it in your eyes. There is something going on. What haven't you told me?"

"There's quite a lot I haven't told you,"

"What?", Molly gasped.

"Did you really expect me to tell you every single piece of knowledge there is in my head?"

"You should tell her.", Harry whispered from the corner of his mouth, with a little smile and no one missed that he had never had such a smile on; something in Hermione's brain however clicked and she remembered to have seen that look before, on his father.

"What should you tell me?"

"I said we wait!", hissed Ginevra.

"How long? She'll know latest when you drop out of the team."

"Horrible enough, isn't it?"

"Drop out of the team?", her mother moaned.

"Last time we talked about it, you were different.", Harry said to the rest of his supper.

"Sure there are more important things in life than Quidditch."

"More important things than Quidditch? Blimey, Hermione! Stop giving me those looks!"

"But until then,", Ginevra ignored either, "There's only the loss of my head that can make me stop playing."

"It's dangerous."

"Harry,"

"If something happens, it's not only your problem alone. It's ours. Don't forget that."

"Which problem, dear?", urged Molly. "What's wrong?"

"I said nothing's wrong.", Ginevra snarled.

"She's your mother. You can't fool her. She knows already anyway."

"But Harry – "

"Tell her, or I do it."

"Ginny dear – "

"Alright, alright.", sighed her daughter, but couldn't hold back an excited smile either. "There's a cub in advancing."

~~#~~

A sticky cloud hung over the still humid short grass that had suffered from the sun of the previous days. Gently swaying against the high cliff in the deep, the salty sprays could be smelt even up high and a flock of seagulls was circling over a hooker far on the greyish blue waves under the misty sky. He could feel his face getting warm from the breath reflected by the cloak's materials. Sure to be visibly alone on the high plain, he took it off and stored it in his pouch, whereupon he needed several attempts to get his hair back in something like an order. Frustrated, he had to take off his glasses as their hinges had trapped some strands.

With a deep sigh he inhaled the flat breeze and took another look around. Something was clearly there, and he knew he was being watched. Furthermore it made him certain that there were many more skills he needed to develop. Nevertheless he turned his head past the blue line on the horizon and the boat and onto another spot in some distance. Where the coast declined behind a hill, there was a long beach, a small harbour and a number of houses that gained his interest, since he understood he wasn't to join the watcher.

So he climbed that hill to his right and looked down onto the village, through which a small river joined the salty waves. The wind must have changed slightly, as he now could hear the bell atop a swaying buoy down at the port. That side of the hill was rather steep, but he nevertheless ran down towards an overgrown path, onto which he nearly crashed. Cursing to himself, he realised that he had stepped on his loose shoelace. Just as he crouched down to fix it, he spotted a figure by a fence around some meadow. Pointed olive eyes pierced his of a far lusher green and some more wrinkles formed on the elderly woman's bloated face. A single grey curl hung from beneath her worn out brown scarf and every other second she would unintentionally squint at it.

Supported on an iron wheelbarrow filled with cow dung, she studied him for a while, then turned to an open gate in the fence and meant to do what she had come for, but she was halted by the young man once more.

"Excuse me, Madam – ", she didn't turn however.

"No English.", the woman said curt, with a heavy accent.

"русски? _Do you speak Russian?_ "

There was a rather long pause, which she used to put down the barrow, and not without a faint stagger, slightly turned back to him. Another mustering stare, a nod.

" _Yes. Yes, boy. Go to the river. But one house before, turn right. Follow the street. Just past the butchery. Three more houses on the left-hand side_."

"Er – "

" _That is where you will find him_."

" _Him?_ "

" _Now_.", she dropped a brief chuckle and an awkward smile. " _I have never seen you, but you could not be more alike. I have confused him often enough to know that stare. And you really need to reconsider your hairstyle, boy_.", without meaning to, he touched his shrubby waves. " _He handles it far better_. _Now go, before you miss him. It is nearly time_."

" _Time? Time for what?_ "

" _Lunch, sweetie. And it is Saturday! They'll close! Or do you not have a watch?_ ", he pulled the chain from his front pocket.

" _It is ten in the morning –_ "

" _Goodness, no, it is about midday!_ "

" _Oh. Sure. Time zones. Forgot about those._ "

" _Now hurry up! My grass will not flourish on its own either!_ "

" _Thank you, Madam. Thank you._ "

" _Yes, yes._ "

While she brandished him off, he was already running for it, raising dust under his now formerly black shoes and trousers. By the moment he finally arrived in said street and could spot the river past the cobbles, a church bell started to ring. Panting heavily and sweating into his purple shirt, he hasted along, ignoring a way too familiar ginger who left the butchery, grunting after him in Russian. To prevent himself from hurtling over some baskets before the shop, he reached for a lamp post and his shoulder gave an alarming sound.

Trying to breathe, he straightened hair, clothes and glasses, wiped some sweat off his face and with a split-second concentration, cooled down his body. Another deep breath and he entered through the old glass door, instantly meeting with a tiny bell's chime and the greetings of a pair of customers, who had some issues changing position with him in the crammed small shop.

On the counter stood a bouquet in a bucket and behind it, picking, adding and adjusting flowers, the blonde whom the customers had said goodbye to. Her icy eyes had a strange brownish shimmer in the dull light coming from outside and not only her sunken cheeks reminded him a little of Narcissa on her bad days. The tousled plait over the shoulder and some sweaty strands in her face, she peeked past the bouquet and eyed him with interest.

" _Good morning, only just_.", she meant in Russian. " _You can consider yourself lucky that I am still busy_."

" _Good morning, yes. I – do you have – greeting cards?_ "

" _Yes, what would you need?_ ", she cleaned her hands with a towel and opened a drawer to her right and he spotted quite quick what he had hoped for.

" _Something for a grandfather-to-be?_ "

" _I have_ – ", while she searched, he went to a bucket in the corner to his left, hosting a number of white tulips. " _Only three different ones here_.", she placed them on the counter and he went over, a single tulip in hand. " _Which one – ?_ "

" _No matter, actually. I would only like you to please take one of them to your assistant in the back, along with this_.", with a definite look into her eyes he held the tulip towards her.

" _I – what?_ ", the woman chuckled out her more than obvious confusion.

" _Please, yes_."

" _Now?_ "

" _Yes, now, thank you_."

Not knowing what to think of it, she picked the middle card and the tulip from him and disappeared through the curtain of bead strings behind the counter. He didn't have much time to study the shop. Something silvery white suddenly appeared by the colourful bucket she had abandoned for him. The piercing, doleful eyes reminded him of a candle's halo through a crystal carafe, only that they didn't shine.

He was sure that he now belonged to the few people ever having wandered earth to have been granted that rare opportunity. Puzzled by the sight, he didn't even notice that the moment didn't last as long as it felt to him. A sort of bridge seemed to exist between their eyes as though it had ever done so, and slowly but appearing to know exactly what it did, the creature gently raised its left hand.

Thin rosy fingers in a very loose fist downright commanded him to mirror them. In similar manner, he lifted his right hand, cautious not to scare the being, but his knowledge told him that he wouldn't, as his move was too predictable. In a blink the creature tilted its hand slightly up, as if to signal him to stay below, which he did.

Never had he felt a touch that was so unearthly yet familiar, it sent shivers down his entire body, when the hand faintly enclosed his fingers only. Those almost instantly turned grey. So did the small creature's big eyes. Knowing he was safe to do so, he stretched out his left arm and carefully stroked its soft head. The fur was unlike any he had touched so far and still he knew the feeling so well, having felt something very close to it only minutes ago to his face and both hands. As he continued his stroking, the creature retrieved its left hand from his.

Then, startling not only him, there was the sound of some metal object hitting a tiled floor, followed by a high surprised shriek; unmistakably by the shop owner; and some hasty footsteps. In a brief moment he noticed that his hands had regained their colour and the creature was gone.

Nevertheless he startled another time when the then again swaying wooden beads where pushed aside with some force. A disbelieving pair of eyes he hadn't seen in some while hit his, yet flicked at the counter so quickly he could barely catch it.

"Hey.", he smiled at the mix of emotions bombarding him. "And no, it's not your fault I found you. I just have means others don't and you know that, I believe. Does Luna know of that Demiguise?"

~~#~~


	73. Chapter 72 - Turn of the Millennium

– Chapter 72 –

 **Turn of the Millennium**

Some days off. Everyone needed them once in a while. The fresh autumn breeze that messed with their hair was a welcomed change. Two months had passed since she had been forced to reveal her pregnancy to her team. Of course that had resulted in her sacking, but Gwen had ensured her to take her back in once the child was old enough she could leave it to her family for the course of trainings and games. Meanwhile she worked as the Harpies' press agent, glad she had Luna to give her advices. She would also return to that place every few days, to the place she had called another home for some years, even though it had been as difficult sometimes as living with a bunch of brothers.

Every time she had returned, she had lit a candle at the memorial in the front courtyard. This time there stood two candles – and two arms were wrapped around her body from behind, resting on her growing belly. Two happy smiles gazed over the hills and the lake, ginger and black waves crossing their view at times. A soft, nuzzling kiss on her right cheek made those smiles grow even bigger and cost her a quiet laugh.

"I still can't think of a name.", Ginevra smirked.

"I can still think of too many.", smiled her husband.

"I'm fine with any of them as long as Mum doesn't force us to name her after someone from my side of the family tree."

"What's wrong with a little Muriel?"

"Shut up, will you?", Ginevra laughed. "Ron's having too much influence on you!"

"Oh not at all. This is my wicked brain alone."

"If you say so,", she sighed, her eyes drifting down on a long trench in which trees were wedged – and losing leaves.

"Aren't you cold? There's snow on the hills!", he was surprised himself by the sight.

"I noticed that. But I got you, haven't I?"

"You got me. And I'll never allow any wind to make you shiver or anything else that dares to throw some coldness at you.", his cloak moved to cover them both now, on his mere will.

"When have you learned to do such?"

"A while ago,", Harry snickered, his head gently pressed against hers.

"Shall we go down to Hagrid's?"

"Whatever that is the Ladies' wish,"

"Oh stop it, whoever you are, using Harry Potter's mouth to speak.", giggled Ginevra.

"Who says it isn't me to use my mouth?"

"Because that doesn't sound like you."

"Just because I don't speak like my best friend?"

"I'm really glad you don't, but that's scary sometimes. Funny, but scary. You sound like Nick if you do that."

"Then I will abandon a formal speech – and talk like that bloody tosspot of a best friend, okay?"

"Hey! Don't you!"

"Are you afraid she could hear me already?"

"Dunno.", Ginevra's smile vanished as her eyes drifted over the landscape once more. "I can feel her at least."

"I can feel her too.", also Harry's smile faded, if though not entirely.

"But she doesn't really move yet – "

"I never said I can feel her move. I said, I can feel her. I feel that she's there. She exists. She's – I don't know how to explain – I – I just feel her – like a second sun filling my heart with warm light – ", Ginevra couldn't help inhaling the fresh air deeply when her eyes became watery.

"That's what you feel?", she gargled.

"That's how I'd describe if that were the words for it. But they aren't. I don't think there are any to describe what it really feels like.", like her, he couldn't see the lands anymore. "I thought I was happy when found you looking at me, alive after Voldemort's diary nearly killed you – or when I kissed you for the first time – or at the pitch after the battle – or when we sat up in the common room and you asked me – or when you told me there's going to be a third of us – or at our wedding – I – I had no idea of happiness, I think. I'm nearly exploding from that happiness now, and still it's all that keeps me whole. I'm actually afraid of what happens to me when she's there at last. I'm afraid of seeing her. What if that happiness kills me and I'll never be able to see her growing up?"

"Stop – stop saying such rubbish – ", Ginevra swallowed. "Happiness can't kill."

"But what if it can?"

"Then we both die a happy death."

"That'd be wonderful. I died too many of the other kind."

"Let's see Hagrid."

"Alright."

"Even if it meant that you'd get late for work tomorrow?"

"As long as I'm with you two I don't mind missing the world spinning."

Moving through the castle was an almost impossible task. At every corner they met people who wanted to hear news. So after having recited one and the same story about a hundred times, they passed the Stone Circle seemingly hours later. It was already getting dark, but they had Kreacher to bring them something from the kitchen if hunger should settle down in their stomachs.

Both of them had taken that path to the big hut so many times they didn't even need to look at the ground. However, it was slightly muddy and slippery from the previous rainy days, so Harry had to hold Ginevra. In addition, her pregnancy limited her abilities already. Slightly staggering and with a slowness and ponderousness that had never been there before, she let herself be supported by her husband. Some laughter later, they reached the wooden door that already stood open for them. Hagrid had heard and recognised them. His big, hair-framed grin welcomed them. It was a miracle he still fitted in that door, but the joyful greet and the warmth of the hut was all they needed at the moment.

~~#~~

Crackling, giving warmth but no comfort, the flames burnt in her eyes, yet couldn't fully reach her skin. Curled up in a thick knitted blanket she sat on the sofa in the otherwise dark room. In the corner, the glistening Christmas tree. Darkness outside and around, far away it seemed, a handful of white stars dancing down from the clouds. Upstairs, muffled by distance and wooden doors, Ron's snoring. That though was not what made her unable to find sleep. She was so used to it that she barely heard it anymore. Everyone else had gone to bed as well. All but one. She knew the other was there, hidden in the shadows away from the flames' light, studying her.

"I know you're there.", she whispered, surprisingly not startling the other.

"Thought so.", replied her friend, equally low, but surprised her instead.

"You?", Hermione gasped when she went to join her on the sofa, wearing a knitted pullover over her pyjamas. "I thought – "

"Luna?", Ginevra chuckled. "No. This one time, no. What're you still doing up?"

"I don't know. Can't sleep. You?"

"Me neither. She's been kicking me for an hour."

"She's kicking already?"

"Yeah. Not much with the little feet she has, but she's got a talent for hitting a very sensitive nerve."

"I don't think I'd be ready for that."

"What. Becoming a mother?"

"Yes."

"Well, I wouldn't have thought I'm either, but I got enough people around me to help. And besides the kicking and still very occasionally feeling sick, I can't wait."

"Really?"

"Yeah. A year ago I'd have killed myself on the mere thought of ever being a mother. You see, it's not hard to miss what Mum's been through and still is going through with the bunch of us. But despite the trouble, she seems to really enjoy it. Somehow I can totally understand her now."

"That's nice.", Hermione sighed, sadly. "I don't think Ron would ever be ready for that."

"I think he'd be a good dad. Overwhelmed, of course, but he's gotten really good with Teddie."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sure he'd be there for our child. Or children. Like – "

"Are you pregnant or what?"

"What?", her breath got stuck. "No! Well – not that I know. But – "

"Are you on about that again?"

"What again?"

"Don't take me for a mug, Hermione.", she snorted, still quietly. "It's getting a bit annoying, really."

"What – "

"We're days from hitting a new Millennium. You've known for three years and still you keep complaining about affairs that were never yours to bother."

"Well, forgive me that I keep seeing the secluded result of the secluded role model. I just – "

"Just _what_. Why, yes, of course they are more alike than you fancy to see. Especially remarkable given the circumstances of the past. Trust me, if Harry does one thing not, it's idolising him. He's become the way he is on his own and it's neither of their fault that you solely happen to see the congruities. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're giving your best to find every tiny bit they have in common just so you can nag about it."

"Nag? I'm not nagging!", Hermione protested hissing.

"'Course you aren't. Then why are we back at that topic?"

"Because you started!"

"Fine, we'll let it rest. Or so I will, if you can. But I doubt you can. More than nineteen months ago he told you to live on. He _told_ you to grow happy with Ron, even. And I know as much as you do that you miraculously love my brother. So let him rest. It doesn't help anyone that you try to correct the past. There are things you can't mend to your will; not even with a Time Turner."

"After you've confronted him with what you knew about his and Harry's relation – how openly did you talk about things? I mean, of course I can understand if you still don't want to talk about anything that happened during that time,"

"Are you honestly asking me if we talked about you?", Ginevra raised an eyebrow. "Well of course we did! Seems only natural, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Don't expect me to say that he's been making up scandalous stories about you or anything."

"I'm not!", that really upset her, but somehow she understood how upset the other was.

"Look. No offence, but even Luna gave up trying to tell you to leave it. But while she may possess the ability to ignore others' ignorance, it drives me mad. It drives me mad that you still blame him for the way he lived his life. After all you've seen, all you've gotten to know about him, all he did for you, you still blame him. And I'm not really sorry to say that, but it doesn't help anyone. Especially not you. He was able to adjust to circumstances, very quickly. He was able to make the best out of bad situations he'd gotten himself into, and plan longterm, regardless of how much the universe tried to screw him up. You on the other hand, can't really. I don't know if it's because of that; if you are jealous or something – "

"I'm not!"

"That you are incapable of doing so, but instead of trying to do that yourself, you curse him to the grave – and beyond, as it is. You know almost all he was capable of and it hurts you so much that you aren't, that you rampage inside. Hermione. I know you got brains. I know you're talented. You prove it well enough. There was no need to prove yourself against him. Sure, you did, but there was no need. Because while he may have challenged himself to grand scale, he only did it as he would have gotten bored otherwise. I wouldn't know myself, but I guess that's one of the downsides of being born with a photographic memory."

"A – what?"

"Don't tell me you – "

"Of course I know what that is! But – "

"Well blow me!", Ginevra chuckled under her breath. "You didn't know?"

"No.", Hermione aspirated, lightly shaking her head.

"He never told you?"

"No!"

"Well now you know. That's why he was so ambitious. He understood that he was born with a rare ability and did his best to advance it, in a playful way. He made everything a challenge. Or why do you think he was able to speak German almost fluently within a few weeks? From reading a dictionary and interacting with his boss and the people in that village? Just because he felt the need to be able to deal with customers, should she be busy otherwise? Or why he'd done the same with Russian just because Igor showed up?"

"Wait – he learned two languages at the same time?"

"Seriously, Hermione?", she didn't like the look Ginny gave her in that drab light. "Asking me whether we talked? Did _you_ talk with him at all? He didn't manage to get Igor a job within a day as well because he used the Confundus Charm or something. He was just making the best of his own abilities and used them well to help others."

"Hold on, now that you mention it – didn't Karkaroff already teach at Durmstrang at that time? I never really thought about it – "

"He did. That's why Severus knew him in the first place. He was already quite famous. Or rather, notorious. As talented as he was at transfigurations, he was at dissecting living animals out of boredom. Or curiosity, whatever."

"Excuse me?", Hermione moaned.

"You know what job he got him, right?"

"Yes.", she could vaguely remember. "At a butcher's. Karkaroff told me himself."

"Well guess why. Severus did know the man had issues and found the best solution."

"Interesting. So Karkaroff simply decided to stay with him – "

"Yes. They bonded very quickly, regardless of having been nine years apart.", and they must indeed have bonded deep, Hermione considered, thinking back explicitly on one of Ginny's memories Luna had made her watch once. "So deeply that Igor didn't want to leave anymore. From what Severus told me, I think he found the first person he could be himself with. The first who understood – or most likely, accepted him the way he was."

"Okay. I know that Severus liked to experiment with animals too. And that he was able to kill at young age. But is that really why they got along so well? That's kinda – "

"Gross, you mean?", chuckled Ginevra. "I don't think _that_ is why they got along so well. All Severus ever did was testing spells on one single mouse he had somehow managed to duplicate. We talked about that matter. He said it wasn't even testing on anything that could be considered alive. Yes, he copied the mouse's anatomy and all and it was apparently breathing and able to bleed, but all copies he could ever create were more like corpses. Much to his liking, as he told me, as they wouldn't run away. Oh goodness, don't give me that look. I'm sure worse things've been done for science. And wizards are just as much saints as Muggles are in that matter. Also this isn't about taking apart animals. That was probably just Igor's vent for all he'd gone through."

"You mean being a wizard growing up in a Muggle orphanage."

"Inter alia,"

"Of course – ", Hermione gasped. "Severus _was_ the _strange boy_ in his neighbourhood. He was always outcast for what he was. And mocked in school because he was so good. And if Karkaroff was also very talented but always treated like scum for it – "

"Yeah. I'm really surprised he only became an animal abuser rather than an Obscurial. That's what I meant by vent. I think Severus just felt the need to keep him alive. As he'd already saved his life in the first place. He once told me a saying his mother has told him when he was little. That you're responsible for the lives you save. He certainly took that to heart."

~~#~~

"Who'll betray me?"

"Hmm?"

"What d'you think?"

"If you told me what you mean, it might be possible for me to tell you my opinion, you know?"

"My best friend's an intolerant git, the guy I used to think of as a big outsider turned out to be a good leader – whom have I overlooked? Who's followed me on the heels while I ignored them? Who's my Pettigrew? Who's my Wormtail?"

"What makes you think that every story repeats itself?"

"Dunno.", Harry shrugged. "Sometimes things tend to pass on mysteriously in families. Usually in the craziest directions. Oh but well, Hermione and Ginevra are still alive – guess you're right then. I hit that one pavement and only half of it."

"You hit nothing, Harry.", smiled Luna. "You have your own story. Of course some people will make one and the same mistake again and again, but that doesn't mean that you have to follow their example."

"I nearly did."

"Then that's the difference, isn't it? You _nearly_ did.", she winked, but just then, a mew would draw Harry's attention.

"What the – "

"He's lovely, isn't he? He just slipped in when Arthur left for work."

"Er – and where does he come from? I can't recall there'd been a wild cat living anywhere near,", Harry eyed the tricoloured, spotted cat sceptically.

"I don't think he's wild, otherwise he wouldn't have come in, would he?"

"And _she_ wouldn't feel like she's at home here already. Multicoloured cats are always female.", sighed Molly who just came out of the laundry room under the stairs with a big pile of ironed clothes. "Good morning, dear.", she smiled to him.

"Morning.", Harry though had no intentions to fully take his eyes off the cat, especially not as it stood up and scuttled towards him.

"But it seems, Crookshanks isn't so fond of her."

"Can't see – why – ", the cat had hopped onto the chair next to him and straight up the table. "Oh no."

"What?", Molly stopped again, just one step from the now closed door and startled as much as the cat, when Harry sneezed heavily and the animal sped off to the living room so fast, it downright slid around the corner. "Oh bless you!"

"Thanks.", Harry robbed his nose, squinting.

"You aren't allergic to cat hair, are you?", asked the woman.

"I am.", moaned Harry.

"But you seem to be doing well with Crookshanks?"

"Guess, he's enough of a Kneazle,", he had no idea why, but Luna's quiet giggle coronated his already bad mood eventually. "Probably the reason why I could stand Mrs Figg's cats, but no one else's. She must have interbred them.", a leisurely stomping elephant came striding downstairs.

"What's up here?", Ron sang so lively that Harry's contempt could rise fully again, even before the newly achieved illuminations had swept it aside.

" _Down_ here.", he quietly growled at the window Ron himself had stared at so many times when he had been in a bad mood.

"You shouldn't be so mean, Harry.", Luna meant, but he knew that Ron hadn't caught his adding anyway. "You only have two brothers."

"What?", he listened.

"No matter how mean you are to them, they'll stick with you. The problem is, you won't be able to forgive yourself. This way you might break your own heart one day,"

"What's she talking about?", Ron frowned when Hermione's feet came in sight and he turned the frown up at her, stopping her in place. "And where do you suddenly come from?"

"I came from upstairs.", huffed Hermione.

"I mean, before. Where were you yesterday? It's the second time you've been absent from the celebration – and there's only been two,"

"I _was_ there."

"No, you weren't."

"She was.", Harry threw in boredly.

"How can you say?", Ron kept his frown. "You weren't there either!"

"I was."

"But you – "

"Just because you didn't see me, it doesn't automatically mean I wasn't there. I thought you'd figured that in our first year at Hogwarts already."

"Sure, but – oh – oh! Blimey!", Ron smacked his hand on his forehead. "But why going there under the – sorry – forgot you're not an attention whore,"

"That's right, naturally I'm not.", Harry said grim. "Though sometimes I may turn out to be when my best friend seems to miss the basics in life. Then I try to make him as jealous as possible until he wakes up,"

"What're you – "

"Just saying,"

"And you?", he still frowned and squeezed himself to the handrail to let Hermione pass, who skipped the creaking stair as usual.

"I'm hungry. And he's right. He never sought for attention. He only did what felt right to him. If it took you another five years to get hold of that information, I'm sorry for you."

"I never said he did – "

"Don't make me laugh, Ronald.", Hermione snorted on her way to the dresser. "And it's `good morning, Hermione´, not `where do you suddenly come from´. I'm your wife, not some stinky sock you found under your bed after weeks of having been absent from your everyday life.", someone else snorted from upstairs.

"Yes?", Ron hissed up to his sister.

"Sounds like you've reached the state of living a clichéd Weasley-marriage in all its purity.", Ginevra chuckled, her extremely big belly bumping along. "If I'd known that Mum's having so much influence on her, I'd kicked you out two years ago."

"You. Kicking me out. Tz.", Ron hissed and stomped back up to his and Hermione's room.

"You'd be surprised,", she shook her head and went to finally join the other three.

"You really think, you'd be able to persuade your mother that she throws us out?", Hermione smirked.

"If I fall to her knees, begging, maybe? I always had more – "

There used to be times when, if something like that had happened, everybody would have laughed on a cursing person before they had jumped up for aid. But this time it happened so terribly fast, there was no time for a laugh, despite occurring in a span that appeared to be years. _Crack_. Not even a squeal, only gasps – and a ball of long ginger hair, mixed with the soft green of pyjama pants and a wide T-shirt. The sound of a trunk rolling down a rocky slope and then crashing onto a road that was the small corner below.

His heart had stopped, but in the second before, it had shot enough energy into his legs to make him hurtle up from the chair. Harry had seen much blood in his life. On photos, and a lot in real. And this time it wasn't all too much either. But it was as if a rock of that slope had hit him too, crushed him beneath and he was now looking at his own blood, his existence, all that had ever been there.

The entire world became a chaos of voices, the calling of her name – a horde of Centaurs running for him as he knelt there, trying to make her look at him, but she didn't stir, didn't react. Her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping. She wasn't, however. No one slept with blood trailing from their mouth and nose – and seemingly everywhere else – hands tried to pull his away, unable to help.

"I'll take her."

Agreement all around. Agreeing was all that seemed right now, now that simply everything that could go wrong had done so. He felt her rather small, thin fingers taking his. A moment later they were gone.

White halls, like heaven, though hell on earth. More voices flooding his ears, meaning to calm him, but achieving only the opposite. His crimson smeared skeleton-white hands clung to one of Luna's arms which carried a weight that should have been to heavy for her, as much as this weight meant to him. He wanted to help, assist her carrying; she waved him off, the only calming voice among the hundreds.

More arms came, more voices – and he didn't know what was worse: that they took her or that Luna let them. His pleading remained unheard, ignored. Words that reached his ears, though were considered uncontrolled blabbering by his mind. None of these sounds made sense, none of them were important. All that counted was her and where they would take her. Automatically his feet gained speed once more. Only to be stopped by a pair of strong arms. Way stronger than he was at the moment, they held him back. Even worse, they turned him around to make him look at a face he hadn't seen before.

Just a second. It was only one of those ages lasting seconds the Healer needed. Unlike the others, he managed to calm him instantly with a single look of his. And though Harry had never seen that face, the look had something utterly soothing. Like a loving father's concern in a moment of pure need for exactly that, although he hadn't known he had had that need until the look had told him.

His dazzled eyes wandered down from the tawny hair and amber eyes and catfish beard to his own red handprints he had created next to a shield that decorated the tall Healer's surprisingly white chest:

 _HGP. PPPS. VaGAntdS. SpdS. Ob-Gyn. HerbH._

 _ **Francis R. Carlisle**_

Francis. White. A white lily on a grave – a lily in a bowl, sinking to the bottom and becoming – a wee – fish – that should carry the name Francis, until it would be gone – and the lily to the grave.

Like the flower petal in the water, Harry sank. He sank to Francis Carlisle's chest, onto her blood and into his arms – and cried a kind of sea that hadn't left his green eyes in a very long time, or probably never before either.

~~#~~

"What's he doing here?"

Any time spoken by the same ginger, the well known line was all that could tear them from their disturbing thoughts and shoot them like a rocket, back to where they were. Bill and Fleur sat as ashen as each of them by a window in the white room that almost swallowed Luna, whose legs hung slack from the window's sill, and eyes empty like many others, only slowly drifted towards the newcomer. In a corner, Molly, Arthur, George and even Charlie had crammed together with Neville, Dean, Seamus and the Patil twins, Padma's wheelchair taking in the most space. A second corner was solely taken by a married couple, of whom one had dropped the harsh words. The other jumped up and stumbled over into her parents' arms. They had arrived with the blond.

"Sorry I couldn't come earlier. Hannah's stuck at the Cauldron. London seems to ignore what's happened. And Teddy's fever doesn't get better either. So Mum and – "

"No need for apologies.", Arthur gargled.

"Right. How's everyone?"

"How's everyone? _How's everyone?_ ", Ron gnarled. "You just come here, acting as if that's a frigging party!"

"I never acted as though it's a party,", Draco got seriously angry due to Ron obviously having missed how miserable he looked and felt.

"And how you do! Besides, you're not invited!"

"She's my friend too."

"She's my _sister_ , you dullard, not just my friend!"

"It's enough, Ron.", whimpered Hermione. "There's no reason for arguing."

"I'm not arguing! I'm voicing facts!"

"No, you're acting like a child.", said Bill. "And I am sure that Draco's the same as all of us. And no, there's no news apart from that it must be worse than we hoped.", Molly gave a horrible, woeful moan. "But we shouldn't meet the trouble halfway."

"Then let's hope we're overreacting and everything goes well.", Draco sighed and conjured some chairs for him and Hermione's parents between her chair and Bill's in the small room, spotting Harry just when he had sat down already, alone at the opposite wall and crouched up on the floor. "What – "

"Let him.", whispered Luna, her voice as empty and hollow as her eyes. "He has left to a different world. We can't reach him there."

Though he heard everything that was said, he was glad that at least Luna knew what exactly was going on. His eyes neither saw his glasses, nor the floor they were directed at, away from where still bloodsmeared hands rested which had meanwhile spread the drying essence nearly on all his clothes. Unfocused, they stared into nowhere – and everywhere. There was too much happening behind them as to trouble them with what was in front. He hadn't even noticed that he was still breathing until that very moment or that his arms had gotten numb from wrapping his knees or his lips dry from standing ajar, covered in salty remains of his tears.

He had thought he had reached a state where he couldn't spill any more of them, but he had apparently been wrong as more seemed to be willing to dam up under his rigid eyeballs, pushed down by the automated movement of his lids. What were all these functions, all these feelings when they made no sense anymore? When the only sense laid out of reach, behind two double doors connected with an infinite corridor? The only reason to him why his heartbeat had calmed down was that he felt her being alive, probably even asleep already. She was well, that much he knew. But why was there a hole in that heart? Why didn't it feel complete anymore? The footsteps his ears picked up might carry news. But did he want to hear?

Slowly, one of the doors between their room and the corridor opened and immediately all heads turned, all eyes stared at the healer that had come in, all bodies stiffened. All but Harry's. Only his lips closed at last and he swallowed down the dryness. Quiet footsteps in a sizzling silence of impatience. They drew near, to him. He however was unwilling to look up until the Healer knelt down by his right and a hesitant hand found its way to his right shoulder.

"Why's he wearing white?", he could hardly perceive Ron's distant hissing. "All healers wear green! Why's he – "

"Honestly Ron,", muttered Hermione, "We're close to hear news from Ginny and all you can care about is the colour of his scrubs?"

"I'm just saying – "

"Shut up – "

The silencing words had come from Charlie this time, though they meant nothing to Harry. Whether he would have continued arguing or not, it didn't matter to him. Nor that the blood had vanished from the Healer's clothes. All that mattered was the blank amber eyes that drilled into his – and whispered words of confirmation that made everyone else nearly collapse from their relieved sighs.

"She's asleep now. She'll be fine.", said Mr Carlisle, yet it wasn't enough for Harry – this time, it wasn't enough.

A grander silence covered the room when he paused for words. A veil of anticipation, but no glee at all. Harry knew what it meant. He knew when the Healer's gaze couldn't close the dark hole that had been blasted into his heart and he didn't need to carry on his whispering. There was no chance bearing it, and his eyes tore the connection, drifting back at the floor.

"You think, it doesn't make sense? Well, it doesn't. That much I can say. But life has to go on. It does; that much I can say as well. Eventually, it does. Yet it'll always be there, that hole.", Harry's eyes returned to Mr Carlisle's. "And it'll return any time the slightest memory is reawakened, and worse, any time you'll find yourself – incapable of – saving someone else's child, as much – ", the man swallowed, "As much as you had been – incapable of saving your own – "

Lips curled, not only Harry's. And the image of that sad face blurred before his eyes. The next thing he noticed was that he fell against the man like he had before. He fell into his comforting arms, arms that knew what it was like, arms that could give him the only thing that could probably ease him at the moment: understanding.

~~#~~

Lights danced outside the window and tried to reach the white room, but it remained in shadows, only half of its possible brightness visible to the eye, and even less, to her. She imagined there to be trees. She imagined to be sitting in the bed of her room in an old, small manor somewhere among shining meadows and the cooling, soothing shadows of a soft deep green between gently swaying trees, instead of beneath a plain and dark wooden cross on the wall. She imagined the light to be golden, rather than the silvery shine it had due to some hazy clouds dancing across its rays, there, outside the room she really sat in on white bed sheets, against the head of that momentarily too big single bed, even though it was rather small for its kind.

There was a tree, somewhat in front of the window, but below, were nothing but graves and though the room was on the second floor, it seemed, she stood between them, trapped, encircled by those who moved no more. Hesitant, ironic and limp, the little smile was gone from her lips as fast as it had appeared there when the cat had hopped onto the windowsill as if willing to shut the dead out, to build a barrier, a guarding shield.

The tears had dried on her face, beneath her burning eyes. Too many of them had she cried, in the last hours alone and she was tired of crying. So she just studied Crookshanks, the glow of his fur when sunlight happened to fall in. His bottlebrush tail swayed like she imagined the trees around the inexistent exile to be doing in the wind. For a while, he only sat there and stared out, at the church she didn't see – and didn't want to see. But then he turned and looked straight at her, before his head turned up to the ceiling.

Her eyes followed his look, just for the hope he had spotted a spider or some other insect up there. It would mean one more life in the room. Though if it was due to the tiredness of her eyes or the size of whatever he saw, she couldn't perceive it. Even less did she know why he mewed at it.

"What's it, Crookshanks?", she raised her voice, quiet and croaking like she had never heard it before, sounding just as if she had aged a few decades in only a day. "What did you see up there? What d'you want?"

"Maybe 'e wan's me ter stroke 'im."

She didn't startle at the voice. Her mind was gone somewhere to a world where everything was possible, for the mere sake of soothingness. Maybe she had expected to hear his voice inside that mind's ears. Now that it was there, it felt good, but also hurt her so much that she wouldn't see him. Perhaps, she thought, if she wanted it enough, he would become visible to her, like the forests or meadows that weren't there. If she concentrated enough, he might shape before her tired eyes, a hallucination that was worth being created.

"Seems 'e's believin' it migh' make me feel better.", instead, Crookshanks flickered between being there and not, when he stretched up as if really leaning into some caressing touch. "Bu' 'ow ter tell 'im it doesn'?", listening to the sighing voice, as hoarse as hers, she watched the cat disappear and appear again several times, thinking how much her brain had really gone round the twist – but after all she had slammed into the corner, and some stairs before – maybe even the handrail. "'E migh' know anyway."

Visible once more, Crookshanks' head turned after that spider or what else on the ceiling, too fast in her opinion and seconds later, the bronze marbles rested almost on her. The bed slightly sunk in next to her. She felt it. As much as she felt the warm hand on her left cheek the moment he actually appeared, no colour left to him, half there, half not. Nevertheless she could see him enough to know he had been crying as well. And it wasn't even illogical. She had seen Myrtle cry in times.

"I though' I couldn' stand lookin' at 'im – bu' I should've known lookin' at ye would be worse."

"What are you, Dad?", that last word did something to his grieving face she hadn't meant to cause. "Are – are you – a ghost?", suddenly that blank gaze was gone, transforming into a faint but warm smile.

"Ghos's,", he whispered, shaping more and more, becoming as solid as his touch was, "Are transparen', me foxy.", and he wasn't anymore, sitting there as alive as her; probably exactly as barely alive as her.

"That's been done to death too.", Ginevra huffed, unable to keep a straight face either. "I'll give my vote."

"Vote?", he asked when he crawled to her left and pulled her down onto the pillow with him.

"To make that our family motto.", she sighed when snuggling up to his chest in his arms, deciding to believe it was not just imagination.

"Wha' 'bou' tha other?"

"You mean – er - `For the Greater Good´? No. `Ghosts are transparent´ sounds cooler. And I don't think anyone could interpret that wrong, can they?"

"Tha' migh' be righ'."

"You said, you've seen Harry? Hasn't he gone to work?"

"Why should 'e?"

"Because I've sent him.", Ginevra grumbled with her eyes closed.

"No. 'E's – "

"Down in the graveyard.", she snorted knowingly.

"Yes.", confirmed Severus.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he stepped into one of those one day for sleeping."

"Ye 'ave ter understan' 'im."

"I try to. And I think, I can – partly. But I can't see how it can make him feel better."

"Sum'times a lil chat wit' tha dead does make ye feel better."

"You should send him Jeanne."

"Jeanne?"

"I mean, I can understand that you don't want to show yourself to him. But I believe, Jeanne can get him back to his senses. He's grown quite fond of her – and even misses her a bit, if I think about it. And then you can tell me who gave their life for you.", he needed a moment to grasp that.

"Wha' d'ye mean?"

"It's in the family, isn't it? Surviving – because someone else died instead."

~~#~~

Charity Burbage. He stored the photo in his Mokeskin Pouch. An old photo of the Hogwarts choir, which he had taken with him, to stare at. A teacher that had never meant anything to him. A teacher he had ignored. But she had cared for him. If his supposed early memories weren't fooling him, she had. And last night, that dream – or had it been a dream? He was quite certain it hadn't. The position from which he had watched them laugh and having a happy conversation in the Clock Tower Courtyard, alone on that grey, moist day, goofing around while everyone else; according to the clock he had taken a quick glance at; had been at lunch or the fact that he had woken up face to face with Crookshanks who had laid down between him and Ginevra – he was very certain, it hadn't been just a dream. He was certain it had been reality, a real occurrence from years ago.

The woman had received a present from her best friend, a golden ring which she had seemed to had seen somewhere but hadn't had enough money or guts to buy it. He however had bought it, making her incredibly happy, probably not even due to the material value of the ring, but the personal.

" _Since it is technically yours, –_ ", he had said when her eyes had glistened from tears of disbelief.

Had the ring once belonged to her mother and she had had to sell it? Harry assumed that he would never get to know. But he knew he had seen the ring in other memories, and even in real life, though he had been too focused, distracted or shocked to care about it. Last time, there had been too much blood on it as to care for that ring on the hand that had reached out for him. He had cared for the dark eyes that had drifted away, across the river.

Once again, it had been a wonderful place to go to. Only the bell had told him that he had sat in the grass for more than an hour, doing nothing but silently staring at cold stone. When that little bell made him startle up and pack the photograph, he realised how much he was used to be on his feet. His buttocks were aching, even though the ground was rather soft.

At one point, the old priest had come to somewhat join him from the distance. He had noticed the man, but preferred to dedicate to the graves. So he did when he heaved himself up and went closer for conjuring white flowers. It were always the same, but this time he decided for whole masses. When he turned for the bald Muggle priest who supported himself on a walking stick, a big bush of each decorated the ground in front of the two stones.

"Sometimes the dead can give us the silence we need.", the priest spoke with his hoarse voice as Harry approached him. "But if you should need the ear of a living,"

"Thanks for the offer, Reverend.", Harry croaked quietly, hardly able to look at him – the wall behind him was a more pleasuring sight than the man who was slowly falling victim to death as well.

"How is your wife coping with it?"

"She's kicked me out.", he shrugged. "Oh – not what you think, Sir.", he hastily added at the look he received. "She ordered me to go to work to get my mind off. Maybe I'll do it, dunno. But I think, I'll just roam the streets for a while. I've never done that here. Guess, I should get to know Godric's Hollow a little better, right?"

"Do whatever feels adequate. Though should you still wish for someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

"Certainly, Reverend. Thanks for everything. Have a good day."

"Thank you as well. Make the best out of yours. Our precious time passes faster than we can control the loss. You of all should know. Use it wisely.", the old man gave him a sad smirk and left the graveyard with Harry's eyes on his back.

For some minutes he just stared at where the priest had disappeared behind the church's silhouette before he could persuade himself to do the same, trying not to digest the exact words the man had said. Not willing to be stared at, he got out his Invisibility Cloak and threw it over. There were hardly any people in the streets, but the knowledge of not being seen by them, felt incredibly good.

Godric's Hollow was actually a very beautiful village with numerous narrow alleys between the main, wound streets and old houses. At some point he already thought he might get lost, but when the bell rang for two o'clock and he heard where the sound came from, he noticed that he had gone in a sort of circuit.

Taking a deep breath, he strolled past another narrow alley to his left. But there was something to this alley, that struck him so fast he believed he had gotten a heart attack. Dazzled, he slouched backwards and stared into it, sure to have seen a black figure standing there. Yet the alley was deserted. It might have just been his mind to play a trick on him, he thought, when he recognised the ruins at its end, in the other street. He stood exactly where his mother had stood with her basket. Lingering there for a little longer, a disturbing thrill grew in him. Some sensation, some curiosity, that eventually won the battle and made him walk through between the windowless, shadowed walls.

On the other side, he was alone. Only him, invisible to – no one, and the ruin of that cottage. He remembered exactly how it had looked like at his first visit. Now the chimney had fallen into the rubble. Ignoring how his stomach crumpled, he stepped forward, swung himself over the low garden door. The moment he had touched it, the sign appeared on the other side, but he didn't care. He landed smoothly on the long grass that had collapsed onto the path and trudged over it, in the shadows of the hedges that had taken in the rest of the garden. The front door hung askew in its hinges, best held by the ivy, and it was easy for him to push it inside, creaking, cracking, rustling.

Dust owned the kitchen that might have been one of the brightest that ever existed. The ground floor mainly consisted of that one room and there were some dishes left by the sink to his right for drying. They hadn't gotten to sort them back in. But those were the only intact dishes. The cupboards had lost halt by the explosions and their content had shattered on the tiled floor. Also at that side, a broken window and small terracotta pots lying beneath, the earth spread and the herbs dried and dusty brown, only roots clinging to what was left, caught in time when their own time's end had come.

Though it was early summer, he found himself reminded of the once hidden second building of Malfoy Manor. The greenhouse and the baths there had looked similar bright but abandoned. On one of the walls hung a clock. Eleven minutes and twenty-one seconds past ten – in the evening, as he understood from what he had been told so often. No one had ever mentioned an exact moment, but that was it. He knew it now.

For a while he just stared at the clock until two more things drew his attention, things that seemed awkward to be standing where they were, after such an attack: there was a flat pot on the stove, dusty like the rest. So was a lone empty baby bottle that stood on the table, its inside smeared with long dried milk. Harry swallowed heavily as he approached it, his fingers held out, but not daring to actually touch it. Blurred images suddenly swam before his eyes, like they had so many times before, like a puzzle completing itself a little more every now and then. Familiar faces he though couldn't match yet. Voices in his ears. Voices he knew, but was unable to identify at the moment. Someone must have fed him before he had been brought away. He knew of the attack, but what had happened after? After the green flash? What had really happened then?

Before his fingertips could accidentally touch the bottle, they were frozen in place. He could even feel some strange energy between his skin and the dusty object, as if there was a sort of magnetic field, neither attracting, nor repelling his hand, but keeping it within tiny distance. To a greater degree, it seemed to be exactly that energy, which suddenly cleared up the images in his head. Maybe it was the cloak that kept him from touching – he couldn't tell.

But, Harry was, quite sure of it, suddenly lying on the floor. He could see a torn ceiling, far away above him. A moist, cold breeze tried to devour the warmth that surrounded him and there was this longing for much more comfort than he already received. His head was aching badly, but the pain was distant now, like it was indeed only the memory of true horror. A shaking voice whispered to him, upon his own agonising attempt to be understood.

"Mummy's h-here.", said that whisper, the mouth that spoke it, not visible, but a blurred pair of shimmering wet eyes.

Another arm was laid around him. It was cold. Why was it cold? Surely from the air that crawled in from outside. For a moment Harry couldn't help his consciousness from today drifting in. He knew why this arm had been cold. It would never be warm again. Unsure whether he could stand the awareness, he tried to keep track, to not lose his memories. But all he remembered was that he suddenly was hungry. And someone had been called a traitor and there were thundering sounds, like angry feet leaving. He could also hear a tremendous cry, echoing loudly in his head. It had sounded like when Grawp had been attacked by the Centaurs – Hagrid? He could remember Hagrid's arrival?

But there was someone else – he could see a grey and brown shimmer that flicked up in some distance, when he felt being carried around. The quiet sound of more shoes on – it must have been the tiles he stood on now. Or did his head only connect the few noises he had made minutes ago, with his memories of that night? But he knew he was definitely hungry. And the person who carried him around, tried to calm him with whispers. He felt a touch against his forehead, soothing the pain – and his present mind was fought off again, another part not truly willing to see one of Hogwarts' corridors now. Just not now.

A second voice, speaking above someone crying; more than obviously Hagrid; clearly complaining about a story. Yes, the person who had – he could remember, he had been longing for more than just calming words – had he, at that age, already treasured the miracle of a distraction? And had he, upon that being understood, been told a stor- a boiling white surface, like a wild river's dance – powder being gushed into it with familiar words that were; at that time, spoken by a voice far deeper than Hermione's; leaving yellowish stains on the calming liquid. Words of love – about lost love – and a spoon was magically, elegantly turned three times by snowy-white fingers. The vessel that carried the now thicker liquid was lifted – playfully moved around, until the substance was poured into a bottle – flowing down its insides, covering the clear material with a fog-like veil – with some kind of cloak – and only seconds after, he could feel his own fingers, then and now, wrapping the bottle.

It had been warm. Now it was cold. Though he could feel the wonderful taste in his mouth – he swallowed multiple times, but did not taste his own saliva – it was this taste of his early childhood, that had been over in course of the same night he had drank from that bottle the last time. Now this bottle of glass was cold, although it was summer. It was cold, like the arm had been. The warmth, only a memory.

Harry felt his fingers glide off, heard the bottle fall over and roll some inches across the dusty table. His grown fingers hooking to the furniture's edge, with the actual cloak in between, he knelt in the signs of passed time, tears as hot as many years ago, trickling down his burning cheeks, behind his glasses. He had believed to know what sacrifice meant. He had believed to know what loss felt like – even more these days. But when his lids closed, either way unable to hold back the tears, he knew he was, though of the approximate same age, and in spite of all he had gone through, far from understanding, far from actually knowing.

For how long he sat there, he didn't care. Nor did he care that the blood had left his right hand due to its position. When he caught himself at having stopped shaking and crying, that weak body mattered the least to him. Physical pain was nothing. It could be really bad, but never the worst. Never. And there were still too few people who understood. At least in his surrounding. He couldn't force them to understand. They hadn't experienced. And he also didn't want to force them to accept. It would only make everyone, including himself, even more angry.

With a deep breath that filled and left his lungs, he raised from the floor and climbed the as well dusty stairs, finally having stored his cloak. His wand ready, just in case, he made his way to the first floor, where he ended up in a corridor with some doors that had been blasted open. At its end, bright sunlight fell into the big hole. No cold darkness, but bright warmth. He climbed over torn wood and broken glass of framed paintings of landscapes that had lost some colour. No photos, neither moving nor still. If there had been any, who had taken them? Had it been Hagrid too? Or –

Having crossed a destroyed door on the floor, Harry now stood in the middle of what once had undoubtedly been his room. The room he had been lying in, on the floor, when his dead mother's arm had been laid around him, merely to please him, to fake a whole world. The light blue walls were singed, dirty and at some areas washed by rain. Like even nature had cried over the crime towards life that had been committed there. Not a single bit of the room was intact. Not a single bit – but a cot. It was dirty as well, yet otherwise untouched.

Careful, he stepped over some burnt looking black heap and gazed over the bars. A dust covered plush owl laid in between still soft appearing pillows under a layer of reddish and brownish grey. The wood creaked a bit when he leant onto it to reach down and get the owl. Beneath the dust, it was white with golden yellow eyes. A Snowy Owl. Hedwig. With an ironic chuckle about mostly Hagrid again, he patted the dust off it and took another look at his unpleasant surrounding, catching himself as he scratched his strangely itching neck with his dirty fingers. In addition, some dust fell off what was left of the ceiling and attic, onto his head. Though he didn't bother.

There was this sudden idea, a rather macabre idea, but maybe it would cheer Ginevra up. It was time for a change. Time for a new start. But he had to consider it thoroughly. What better place to do that was there than – he hadn't been there ever since. Not even when they had returned. He hadn't seen them a single time since. Astonished that he was actually missing them, he stored the plush owl in his Mokeskin Pouch, pushed his wand up his sleeve and turned on the spot.

~~#~~


End file.
